“I want something more unpretending,” said Maragougnia, shading his eyes, dazzled by the light.
Ali could scarcely refrain from expressing his surprise in a shout. “More unpretending!” said he to himself, utterly disheartened. “These travellers are all alike—there’s no satisfying them!” But the landlord of “The Crocodile” was not the man to let himself be beaten by such a trifle. “If you will follow me, I have exactly what you require. I can let it you for next to nothing;” and he led the knight to a wretched outhouse, without either air or light, except such as came to it by reversion from the stable.
“There!” said Ali, briefly.
“This will suit me admirably. The smell of a stable is good for the lungs, so this atmosphere ought to be very healthy.”
“I let it to invalids,” said the landlord, stopping his nose. “Sleep in comfort; the straw is this year’s;” and Ali, taking the lamp, left Maragougnia alone with his thoughts.
“Go,” said the Count of Riom—“go, my dear fellow-travellers; go and get your necks twisted, and your bones broken. Go and seek a castle in the air for the satisfaction of a royal vagary. I, more wise than you, shall stop here. Who knows but that fortune may not visit me here?” Thus musing, he fell asleep, and dreamt that his squire had obtained for him a reduction of rent by turning the spit in the inn kitchen.
