Will. "Because it is a place from which the companions of Ulysses could not be torn away; there are sirens there. One could not be better treated in his own house than there in an inn."
Bert. "What do they do?"
Will. "At table there was always some woman present, who enlivened the meal with her humour and her charms. Then you find there the most agreeable manners. The first one to meet you is the lady of the house, who salutes you, bids you be merry and excuse the faults of what is set before you. Then follows the daughter, an elegant person, so gay in speech and manner that she would have cheered up Cato himself. They converse with you not as with strange guests, but as with familiar friends."
Bert. "I recognise the refinement of the French."
Will. "But, as these could not always be present on account of domestic duties and the welcoming of other guests, there was always at hand a maid-servant thoroughly posted in all kinds of chaff; she alone could take up the jokes of everyone, and kept things going until the daughter came back. The mother was quite along in years."
Bert. "But how about the provision? for one can't fill one's belly with stories."
Will. "Really splendid. I can't understand how they can entertain at so small a price. Then after dinner they amuse you with merry tales, so that you cannot get tired. I thought I was at home and not in a strange land."
Bert. "How about the chambers?"
Will. "Always some girls about, laughing, frolicking, and playing. They asked of their own accord if we had any soiled linen, washed it, and brought it back resplendent. Need I say more? We saw everywhere only girls and women, except in the stables, and even there the maids were often bursting in. When you go away, they embrace you and dismiss you with as much affection as if you were all brothers or the nearest of relatives."