I thought it likely enough that we might find it hard to get rid
of him. But this was not so. After listening with gratification
to our repeated thanks, he bowed with the same grotesque
flourish, and marched off as grave as a Spaniard, humming--
"Ce petit homme tant joli!
Qui toujours cause et toujours rit,
Qui toujours baise sa mignonne,
Dieu gard' de mal ce petit homme!"
On our going in, the landlord met us politely, but with
curiosity, and a simmering of excitement also in his manner.
"From Paris, my lords?" he asked, rubbing his hands and bowing
low. "Or from the south?"
"From the south," I answered. "From Orleans, and hungry and
tired, Master Host."
"Ah!" he replied, disregarding the latter part of my answer,
while his little eyes twinkled with satisfaction. "Then I dare
swear, my lords, you have not heard the news?" He halted in the
narrow passage, and lifting the candle he carried, scanned our
faces closely, as if he wished to learn something about us before
he spoke.
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