The lower floor of the house consisted of two divisions; the one appropriated to the horses and equipages of travellers, the other to the culinary department of the establishment, as also to the accommodation—at that precise moment—of a motley assemblage of human beings, soldiers, mechanics, carriers, wagoners, postillions, all talking at the same time in their guttural language; smoking, drinking, and hallowing to each other, with loud laughter and jokes; yet the ear was never shocked by the profane oath, or other evidences of the fierce quarrels, which too often occur amongst a mixture of people of similar degree in other countries.
The upper part of the building was laid out in rooms for the accommodation of the better order of travellers. One of larger dimensions than the rest formed the dining-room—this was completely impregnated with the fumes of tobacco; the rest consisted of sleeping apartments.
As Karl drove into the court-yard, he seemed to have roused himself to a sense of his own importance, and the responsibility with which he was entrusted, for he endeavoured to assume an air of authority. “Help, here! help!” he exclaimed as the wheels of his cart rattled over the stones, “help here, to carry the baggage of my noble masters up-stairs! Does no one come? Help here, help, halloo!”
His calls for assistance were at last heeded by a being very similar to himself in dress and features. “Halloo, villain!” cried Karl, as the man approached, “can you not hear when a Christian calls? Here, help me to carry this baggage, will you?”
“Who art thou that speakest thus to me?” demanded the other; “art thou better than I am myself, knave? Art thou not a slave as well as I?”
“Ay, ay, truly,” answered Karl, “but I serve a noble master, whilst thou art but the slave of a base-born Hebrew innkeeper!”
“There thou liest!” exclaimed the indignant ostler, for such was his office. “I serve the innkeeper truly, and if he did not oblige me to observe his fasts, as well as those of our own holy church, the service would not be so bad; but I am no slave of his. I am the born serf of the noble Baron Ogstrofsty; he has let me out for hire, to the old Jew Levi, to pay off an old score, and when I have worked it out, I shall return to my own master.”
“That alters the case,” replied Karl, rubbing his forehead, that he might more clearly understand the knotty difference, “so now let us be friends, and lend me your aid.”
“With all my heart, now that thou art civil,” said the ostler.
Suiting the action to the word, after fastening the horse’s bridle to a ring in the wall, he assisted in taking the luggage from the cart, and led the way up a rude flight of steps, on the landing of which they were met by the landlord Levi, who had been eagerly looking out, in the hope of making considerable gain by his new guests.