“May I ask, brother Gheorghe, where we are at this moment? I have missed my way in the storm.”
“Where do you want to go to?”
“To Upper Popeshti.”
“Eh! To Pocovnicu Iordache.”
“That’s it.”
“In that case you have not missed your road. You’ll have some trouble to get to Popeshti—you are only at Haculeshti here.”
“At Haculeshti?” I said joyfully. “Then I am close to Manjoala’s Inn.”
“Look there; we are at the back of the stables.”
“Come and show me the way so that I don’t just go and break my neck.”
I had been wandering about for four hours. A few steps brought us to the inn. Mistress Marghioala’s room was lit up and shadows moved across the curtain. Who knew what other, wiser traveller had enjoyed that bed! I should have to rest content with some bench by the kitchen fire. But what luck! As I knocked some one heard me. The old maidservant hurried to open to me. As I entered I stumbled over something soft on the threshold. The kid! Did you ever! It was my hostess’ kid! It, too, entered the room and went and lay down comfortably under the bed.