As I rode up to the inn door an old sergeant, with squinting eyes
and his tongue in his cheek, scanned me inquisitively, and
started to cross the street to challenge me. Fortunately, at
that moment the two knaves whom I had brought from Paris with me,
and whom I had left at Auch to await my orders, came up. I made
them a sign not to speak to me, and they passed on; but I suppose
that they told the sergeant that I was not the man he wanted, for
I saw no more of him.
After picketing my horse behind the inn--I could find no better
stable, every place being full--I pushed my way through the group
at the door, and entered. The old room, with the low, grimy roof
and the reeking floor, was half full of strange figures, and for
a few minutes I stood unseen in the smoke and confusion. Then
the landlord came my way, and as he passed me I caught his eye.
He uttered a low curse, dropped the pitcher he was carrying, and
stood glaring at me like a man possessed.
The soldier whose wine he was carrying flung a crust in his face,
with,--
'Now, greasy fingers! What are you staring at?'
'The devil!' the landlord muttered, beginning to tremble.
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