After all, it mattered little. A couple of hours' riding
in the morning would bring us to Toulouse, and we would start
betimes.
I bade Gilles dismount - he had been the louder in his complainings
--and follow us afoot, bringing my horse to the Auberge de l'Etoile
at Blagnac, where he would await him. Then I mounted his jaded
beast, and, accompanied by Antoine - the last of my retainers - I
rode into Blagnac, and pulled up at the sign of the "Star."
With my whip I smote the door, and I had need to smite hard if I
would be heard above the wind that shrieked and howled under the
eaves of that narrow street. Yet it almost seemed as if some one
were expected, for scarce had my knocking ceased when the door
was opened, and the landlord stood there, shading a taper with
his hand. For a moment I saw the glow of its light on his rosy,
white-bearded face, then a gust of wind extinguished it.
"Diable!" he swore, "an ugly night for travelling"; adding as an
afterthought, "You ride late, monsieur."
"You are a man of supreme discernment, Monsieur l'Hote," said I
testily, as I pushed him aside and stepped into the passage. "Will
you keep me in the rain till daylight whilst you perpend how late
I ride? Is your ostler abed? See to those beasts yourself, then.
Afterwards get me food - for me and for my man and beds for both
of us."
"I have but one room, monsieur," he answered respectfully. "You
shall have that, and your servant shall sleep in the hayloft.
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