He then thought of looking at himself.
His unshaven beard, his disordered hair, his cap soiled with mud, his blood-stained hands, his clothes in rags, he looked horrible.
He took a double louis out of his waistband, and put it on the table of the parlor, which he had entered and said to the landlord,—
"In truth, sir, I am not a thief, I am a proscript; money is now my only passport. I have just come from Paris, I wish to eat first and sleep afterwards."
The landlord was touched, took the double louis, and gave him bed and supper.
Next day, while he was still sleeping, the landlord came into his room, woke him gently, and said to him,—
"Now, sir, if I were you, I should go and see Baron Hody."
"Who and what is Baron Hody?" asked Cournet, half asleep.
The landlord explained to him who Baron Hody was. When I had occasion to ask the same question as Cournet, I received from three inhabitants of Brussels the three answers as follows:—
"He is a dog."