As this meant my paying for two dinners, the landlord was soon restored to good-nature. He was a cheerful, hearty soul, and as communicative as I could desire.
"That is a strong chateau about half a league yonder," I said to him, as I sipped his excellent white wine.
"Yes, the Chateau de Lavardin," he replied. "Strong?—yes, indeed."
"Who lives there?"
"The Count de Lavardin."
"What sort of man is he?"
"What sort? Well!—an old man, for one thing,—or growing old. Or maybe you mean, what does he look like?"
"Yes, of course."
"A lean old grey wolf, I have heard him likened to—without offence, of course. Yes, he is a thin old man, but of great strength, for all that."
"Is he a good landlord?"