“Your excellency,” said the host, “it is the Countess Gemma, of Castel Nuovo.”
“Well!” replied the traveller.
“Her carriage has been obliged to stop at my poor inn,” said the host, “because one of her horses became so lame that she is unable to proceed.”
“Well, go on,” said the traveller.
“She had calculated,” said the host, “having no expectation of this accident when she left St. Agatha this morning, on sleeping at Melazzo this evening, where she has relays, so that she is entirely unprovided with everything.”
“Tell the countess that my cook and larder are at her service,” said the traveller.
“A thousand thanks in my mistress’s name,” said the servant; “but as the countess will, no doubt, be obliged to pass the night in this inn, while a relay of horses is brought hither from Melazzo, and as she is equally unprovided for night as for day, she would be glad to know if your excellency would have the gallantry to—”
“More than that,” said the traveller; “let the countess occupy my apartment—this room will do for her lady’s-maid, whom she will not be sorry to have near her. As for myself, I am a man accustomed to fatigue and privations; I will content myself with the first room that is disengaged; go, therefore, and tell the countess she can step up at once—the room is at liberty, and our worthy host will do the best he can for me.”
Speaking thus, the traveller rose, whistled to his dog, and followed the host; and the servant at once descended to accomplish his mission.
Gemma accepted the traveller’s offer as a queen would the homage of a subject, and not as a woman who accepts a service from a stranger; she was so accustomed to see everything submit to her will, and everybody obey her voice, and even her look, that she saw nothing striking in the extreme gallantry of the traveller.