"That is just the difficulty," said Master Pivois, scratching his head.
"Speak, zounds! I am not an ogre; what is it that causes you such anxiety?"
The landlord saw that he must out with it, and fear giving him courage, he bravely made up his mind.
"Monseigneur," he said, honestly, "believe me that I am too much the man of the world to venture to act with rudeness to a gentleman of your importance—"
"Enough of that," the stranger interrupted, with a smile.
"But—" the host continued.
"Ah! There is a but."
"Alas! Monseigneur, there always is one, and today a bigger one than ever."
"Hang it all, you terrify me, master," the stranger remarked, with a laugh; "tell me quickly, I beg of you, what this terrible but is."
"Alas! Monseigneur, it is this: my entire hostelry was engaged a week ago by a party of gentlemen; I expect them to arrive in an hour—half an hour, perhaps, and—"