He went into the inn with his companion, leaving Harry on the bench. Harry reflected. It was absurd to tire himself needlessly; he had ridden with brief intervals for nearly eighteen hours since he left Maintz, and felt by no means eager to get into the saddle again. Perhaps it would be best to close with the man's offer, sleep at the inn, and start fresh early in the morning. Yet he hesitated; there was something about the landlord that he did not like; he felt for him one of those unaccountable antipathies that spring up at a word, a look, a touch. But the feeling was vague and unsubstantial; after a moment he dismissed it as unreasonable, and concluded that his best course would be to take his rest now rather than run the risk of having it deferred for some hours.
He went into the inn.
"The noble Herr decides to stay?" said the landlord. "Well! I would not persuade, but I think you are right, Excellency. Johann, take the gentleman's horse to the stable. I will see then that a room is prepared. And you will like supper, Excellency?"
"Yes. Anything will do."
He accompanied the ostler to the stable and saw the horse well rubbed and fed.
"Whose horse is that?" he asked, noticing a sorrel in the next stall.
"He belongs, Excellency, to the gentleman now with the host, by name Hermann Bart, a farmer of the district."
"Oh! he looks a strong beast—the horse, I mean. I shall want to be off at dawn; you'll see that my horse is ready?"
Returning to the inn, he ate the plain supper brought him by an old woman as deaf as a post. While he sat at table the landlord stood opposite him, attentively anticipating his wants.
"I can have a light breakfast at three, landlord?"