e caravan,
but who remained in the caravan, nevertheless, because she had to do what
she was told.

The neighborhood of the Inn, therefore, seemed strangely deserted when a
man appeared upon the bridge in the direction contrary to that of the
general stream of passers-by, for this man was coming from the direction
of Neuilly and was going in the direction of Paris. He was a twisted man
with a hunched back, who was clad in black and carried a long sword, and
he came slowly down the slope of the bridge and along the road to the
Inn, looking about him quickly and cautiously the while as he did so. He
had the air of one resolved to be alert against possible surprises even
where surprises were improbable if not impossible; but his sinister face
wore a malign smile of self-confidence which proclaimed that its wearer
felt himself to be proof against all dangers.

XI

AESOP REDUX

Seeing that the neighborhood was vacant of all occupants, the hunchback
advanced to the Inn, and, seating himself at a table under one of the
little arbors, drummed lustily with his clinched fist upon the board. In
answer to this summons the landlord appeared hurriedly at the door--such
a man as had evidently been destined by heaven to play the part of
landlord of a wayside inn.

He advanced and questioned his guest obsequiously: "Your honor wants--"

The hunchback answered him, roughly: "Wine, good wine. If you bring me
sour runnings I'll break your head."

The landlord bowed with a dipping upward projection of apologetic hands.
"Your honor shall have my best."

The landlord went back into the Inn, and the hunchback sprawled at his
ease, tilting back his chair and resting his lean, black legs on the
table. He sat thus wise for some little time, blinking under the shadow
of his large, black hat at the pleasant sunlight and the pleasant
grasses about him with something of the sour air of one to whom such
pleasant things meant little. But presently his careless eyes, that might
almost have seemed to be asleep, so much were the lids lowered, suddenly
grew alert again. A man appeared on the bridge--a lank, lean,
yellow-skinned man, with a face that seemed carved out of old ivory, with
furtive eyes and a fawning mouth. The new-comer was gorgeously,
over-gorgeously, dressed, and his every movement affected the manners of
a grand seigneur. He carried a tall cane with a jewelled knob, on which
his left hand rested affectionately, as if it pl