CHAPTER XIV
OF THE JOURNEYING BACK TO THE HOUSE OF MY REJECTION
However, the Count of Nullepart was wrong in this particular. For on returning to the Three Feathers, we found her supping porridge with the greatest zest, with two servants to wait upon her. We were in time to hear her rate the landlord soundly because her couch had been hard; also to hear her put innumerable questions to that honest fellow as to whether her horse was shoed? what kind of smith it was that shoed it? was the shoe likely to give comfort to the horse? and was it calculated to cause no injury?
“Not that the horse is mine, fellow, you understand that?” said the little lady, who looked as fresh as peach bloom, and who appeared to keep her small head full of practical affairs.
“Oh yes, your ladyship, I quite understand that,” said the innkeeper, with an air of the profoundest intelligence.
“I suspect you stole it, madam, from the Mother Superior,” said the Count of Nullepart, taking up the conversation with a silken air.
“Why should you suspect that, sir?” said she, flashing upon the count the instant glance of a hawk.
“I have two eyes, madam,” said he, smiling, “something of mind, and my five wits—although I have no respect for them, and deplore their use—are yet pointed as finely as five daggers. I am sure you stole your horse from the Mother Superior.”
“How so, sirrah? And why so? And what do you mean?” said the lady, flinging her questions at him scornfully, and tapping her foot on the ground with petulance.
“I have been thinking upon you during the night,” said the Count of Nullepart, “and have allowed myself to conclude that you are run away from your convent on the horse of the Mother Superior, which fetches home the eggs and butter from market.”
“Well, sir, and if I am run away,” said the lady haughtily, “I would not have you mention it in this public place. I have many reasons for running away, and the first of them is my father’s peril.”