My questioner made no reply to this, and everybody remained silent, as if nothing had been said. From this I concluded that the abbé aforesaid must be the same whose place I had occupied at dinner. He had doubtless seen me on my arrival and had taken himself off. This abbé was a rascal who had visited me at Little Poland, to whom I had entrusted a ring which had cost me five thousand florins in Holland; next day the scoundrel had disappeared.
When everybody had left the table, I asked Le Duc if I were well lodged.
“No,” said he; “would you like to see your room?”
He took me to a large room, a hundred paces from the inn, whose sole furniture consisted of its four walls, all the other rooms being occupied. I complained vainly to the inn-keeper, who said,
“It’s all I can offer you, but I will have a good bed, a table, and chairs taken there.”
I had to content myself with it, as there was no choice.
“You will sleep in my room,” said I to Le Duc, “take care to provide yourself with a bed, and bring my baggage in.”
“What do you think of Gilbert, sir?” said my Spaniard; “I only recognized him just as he was going, and I had a lively desire to take him by the back of his neck.”
“You would have done well to have satisfied that desire.”
“I will, when I see him again.”