"A VERY ELEGANTLY DRESSED MAN STEPPED OUT OF THE COACH AND HANDED FORTH A LADY."
As for the child's companion, the mere sight of him, added to her tears, made me sick. He was not altogether an ill-looking man, and might by some have been accounted handsome; but he had a brutal mouth, a shifty, restless eye, and was of a swarthy, insolent complexion that I did not love. As for dress, he put my outfit, although I had rather prided myself upon it, completely out of countenance. He had more silk about him than all my wardrobe contained, and his ruffles were of the finest lace; he was also decked with gold chains and rare jewels—at least, to me the jewels appeared rare, but I doubt, after all, whether they were more than paste. He seated himself close to the lady, and would have ventured some tendernesses with her, but she gave him no encouragement; at which, smiling grimly to himself, he watched her as a cat watches a frightened bird.
I went on eating for some time, and applied myself with great attention to the wine, in order to spur a somewhat tardy tongue. In half an hour I knew my carriage would be ready, and that was but short time to succour beauty in distress, for that was what my heart conjectured the scene before me to represent. At last, leaning back in my chair and uttering a sigh of satisfaction, I found my voice.
"I give you good day, sir. This inn serves fair refreshment, and is better than it looks."
"I've known worse," he said, glancing at the table; then he turned his back on me again.
"You travel fast," I said, "as though upon some pleasant errand."
"Or as though the runners were behind," he said.
"No, no; even they, surely, would respect your company. The errand must be pleasant."