ll the events of this my first
journey, though I dwell on them with pleasure; or to say what I thought
of the towns, all new and strange to me, through which we passed.
Enough that we went by way of Limoges, Chateauroux and Orleans, and
that at Chateauroux we learned the failure of one hope we had formed.
We had thought that Bezers when joined there by his troopers would not
be able to get relays; and that on this account we might by travelling
post overtake him; and possibly slip by him between that place and
Paris. But we learned at Chateauroux that his troop had received fresh
orders to go to Orleans and await him there; the result being that he
was able to push forward with relays so far. He was evidently in hot
haste. For leaving there with his horses fresh he passed through
Angerville, forty miles short of Paris, at noon, whereas we reached it
on the evening of the same day--the sixth after leaving Caylus.

We rode into the yard of the inn--a large place, seeming larger in the
dusk--so tired that we could scarcely slip from our saddles. Jean, our
servant, took the four horses, and led them across to the stables, the
poor beasts hanging their heads, and following meekly. We stood a
moment stamping our feet, and stretching our legs. The place seemed in
a bustle, the clatter of pans and dishes proceeding from the windows
over the entrance, with a glow of light and the sound of feet hurrying
in the passages. There were men too, half-a-dozen or so standing at
the doors of the stables, while others leaned from the windows. One or
two lanthorns just kindled glimmered here and there in the
semi-darkness; and in a corner two smiths were shoeing a horse.

We were turning from all this to go in, when we heard Jean's voice
raised in altercation, and thinking our rustic servant had fallen into
trouble, we walked across to the stables near which he and the horses
were still lingering. "Well, what is it?" I said sharply.

"They say that there is no room for the horses," Jean answered
querulously, scratching his head; half sullen, half cowed, a country
servant all over.

"And there is not!" cried the foremost of the gang about the door,
hastening to confront us in turn. His tone was insolent, and it needed
but half an eye to see that his fellows were inclined to back him up.
He stuck his arms akimbo and faced us with an impudent smile. A
lanthorn on the ground beside him throwing an uncertain light on the
group,