The place was certainly very different to the one which he had just quitted. The floor was strewn with clean white sand, and, though the air was thick with the fumes of that same pungent tobacco, which already had offended Gaston's nostrils, it was not hopelessly unpleasant, as the deep and square oriel window at the extreme end of this long, low room was wide open, freely admitting the sweet, salt breeze which blew straight from the English Channel; affording too—as Gaston had originally surmised—a magnificent view of a panorama which embraced the mouth of the Seine, the rough harbour and tiny jetty, with the many small craft lying at anchor on the calm bosom of the river, and the graceful schooners and majestic three-deckers further away, all lit by the slanting rays of the slowly-sinking sun.
Gaston, without hesitation, walked straight up to a bench and trestle table, which to his pleasurable surprise he found was unoccupied. These were just inside the bay of the window, and he deliberately placed his hat, coat and whip upon the table in token that he took possession of it. Then he once more turned to mine host, who, much torn between respect for a man who travelled on the King's business—a nobleman mayhap—and pride of peasant at contact with an unwelcome visitor, had slowly followed Gaston, lolling with that peculiar gait which betrays the ex-sailor whilst firm if deferential protest was writ all over his rubicund countenance.
Jean Marie Palisson was born at Le Havre; he had been armateur ere the welcome death of a relative put him in possession of the most frequented inn in the town together with a very comfortable competence, and the best furnished cellars this side of Rouen. He greatly resented the appearance of a stranger in the midst of his usual habitués, which distinguished circle embraced M. le Général commanding the fortress, M. the Military Governor of the port, M. the Civil Governor of the town, MM. the commanders on His Majesty's ships, not to speak of M. le Maire, and M. le Député of the Parliament of Rouen, in fact all the notabilities and dignitaries of the town and the harbour.
These gentlemen were wont to assemble in this the best room of "Les Trois Matelots" at five o'clock, "l'heure de l'apéritif," when eau-de-vie, punch or mulled wine were consumed, in order to coax recalcitrant appetites to a pleasurable anticipation of supper. It was an understood thing, between the worthy Jean Marie Palisson and his distinguished customers, that no strangers were to be admitted within this inner sanctum, save by the vote of the majority, nor had it ever occurred before that any one had thus forced an entrance past that magic door which mine host guarded with jealous care.
Now when Gaston thus arrogantly took possession of the best table in the best portion of the best room in "Les Trois Matelots," Jean Marie was so taken aback, and so awed by the masterfulness which could rise to such complete disregard of the etiquette pertaining to the social circles of Le Havre, that he found himself unable to do aught but shrug his broad shoulders at intervals, and blink his beady eyes in token of helpless distress.
And this in spite of the fact that several pairs of eyebrows were lifted in token of pained surprise.
Gaston was equally unconscious of the disapproval which his entry had evoked, as of Jean Marie's want of alacrity in his service. When he entered, he noted that the several occupants of the room were gentlemen like himself, and he always felt thoroughly at home and unabashed amongst his kind: as for the landlord of a tumbledown provincial inn, Gaston thought him quite unworthy of close attention. He sat himself down on the edge of the table, dangling one well-booted leg with easy nonchalance, and from this elevated position he surveyed leisurely and with no small amount of impertinence, the company there assembled. He had scarce time to note the scowling looks of haughty disapproval which were levelled at him from every side, when the door was vigorously pushed open and an aggressively cheerful young man, loud of voice, jocose of manner, boisterously entered the room.
"Par ma foi! my worthy Jean Marie," he said in stentorian tones, "is this the latest fashion in Le Havre? the host not at the door to receive his guests? . . . Hé! . . ." he added, suddenly realizing the presence of a stranger in the room, "whom have we here?"
But already, at the first words uttered by the newcomer, Gaston de Stainville had jumped to his feet, and as soon as the young man ceased talking, he went forward to greet him.
"None other than Gaston de Stainville, my good Mortémar, and pleased indeed to look into a friend's face."