The town, which they soon reached, was called Saliente. They read the name upon a guide-post.
The fourth house after entering the place was a hostelry, the Traveller’s Rest. They entered it, and ordered the hostess to take the young lady to a room and to assist her in disrobing.
The order was obeyed, and Maurice and the corporal went into the dining-room and ordered something to eat.
The desired refreshments were served, but the glances cast upon the guests were by no means friendly. It was evident that they were regarded with suspicion.
A large man, who was apparently the proprietor of the house, hovered around them, and at last embraced a favorable opportunity to ask their names.
“My name is Dubois,” replied Maurice, without the slightest hesitation. “I am travelling on business, and this man here is my farmer.”
These replies seemed to reassure the host a little.
“And what is your business?” he inquired.
“I came into this land of inquisitive people to buy mules,” laughed Maurice, striking his belt of money.
On hearing the jingle of the coin the man lifted his cap deferentially. Raising mules was the chief industry of the country. This bourgeois was very young, but he had a well-filled purse, and that was enough.