‘And run away with the belle of the château,’ added I, pour comble de hardiesse. She did not seem half to relish my jest, however; and gave a little shake of the head, as though to say, ‘You’re not out of that scrape yet.’
Thus did we chat over our dinner, which was really excellent, the host’s eulogy on the Meuse trout being admirably sustained by their merits; nor did his flask of Haut-Brion lower the character of his cellar. Still no note of preparation seemed to indicate any arrangements for our departure; and although, sooth to say, I could have reconciled myself wonderfully to the inconvenience of the Toison d’Or for the whole week if necessary, Laura was becoming momentarily more impatient, as she said—
‘Do see if they are getting anything like a carriage ready, or even horses; we can ride, if they’ll only get us animals.’
As I entered the little kitchen of the inn, I found my host stretched at ease in a wicker chair, surrounded by a little atmosphere of smoke, through which his great round face loomed like the moon in the grotesque engravings one sees in old spelling-books. So far from giving himself any unnecessary trouble about our departure, he had never ventured beyond the precincts of the stove, contenting himself with a wholesome monologue on the impossibility of our desires, and that great Flemish consolation, that however we might chafe at first, time would calm us in the end.
After a fruitless interrogation about the means of proceeding, I asked if there were no château in the vicinity where horses could be borrowed.
He replied,’ No, not one for miles round.’
‘Is there no mayor in the village—where is he?’
‘I am the mayor,’ replied he, with a conscious dignity.
‘Alas!’ thought I, as the functionary of Givet crossed my mind, ‘why did I not remember that the mayor is always the most stupid of the whole community?’
‘Then I think,’ said I, after a brief silence, ‘we had better see the curé at once.’