CHAPTER XXXIV
"LE MONARQUE"
A few minutes later he had reached the principal inn of the town, "L'Auberge des Trois Matelots," immediately opposite the rough wooden jetty, and from the bay window of which Gaston immediately thought that a magnificent view must be obtainable of the stretch of the river and the English Channel far away.
He turned into the gate. The house itself was low, one-storied only, and built entirely of wood round a central court-yard, which was as deep in slime as the rest of the town of Le Havre. Opposite Gaston as he rode in, were some primitive stablings, and on his right some equally primitive open sheds; the remaining two sides apparently stood for the main portion of the building, as several doors gave upon a covered verandah, to which some four or five steps gave access.
A weary-eyed ostler in a blue blouse and huge wooden sabots, from which bunches of straw protruded at the heel came leisurely forward when Gaston drew rein. He seemed to have emerged from nowhere in particular, risen out of the mud mayhap, but he held the mare none too clumsily when M. le Comte dismounted.
The next moment a portly figure appeared in one of the doorways under the verandah, clad precisely like the ostler, save for the gorgeous scarlet kerchief round the gargantuan neck, whilst another, equally bright in hue, peeped out of the pocket of the blouse.
Above the scarlet neckerchief a round face, red as a Normandy apple, was turned meditatively on the mud-stained cavalier, whilst a pair of small, beady eyes blinked drowsily at the afternoon sun.
"See that the mare gets a good rub down at once, then a feed of corn with a dash of eau-de-vie in it, a litter of straw, and a drink of water; she is done to death," said Gaston, peremptorily to the sleepy-looking ostler. "I'll be round in a quarter of an hour to see if she is comfortable, and give you a taste of my whip if she is not."
The ostler did not reply, neither did he touch his forelock in token of obedience. He smothered a yawn and with slow, dragging steps he led the over-tired mare toward the rough stabling in the rear. Gaston then turned toward the verandah and to the few wooden steps which led up to the doorway, wherein the apple-faced man still stood with his hands behind him, drowsily blinking at the unexpected visitor.
"Are you the innkeeper?" asked Gaston curtly.
"Yes, M'sieu," replied the other with great deliberation.