THE INNKEEPER'S LESSON
The chief inn of Fontainebleau town was a rambling galleried quadrangle
of semi-deserted buildings situated on the Rue Basse, and bearing the
sign of "The Holy Ghost."
This town, in the heart of the woods, had no other sources of livelihood
than a vegetable market for the Palace, the small wants of the
wooden-shoed foresters and of the workmen employed by the Master of
Woods and Waters in planting new trees, and those of the crowd of
strangers who flocked to the place during five or six weeks in the
autumn of each year, when the king and Court arrived for the pleasures
of the hunt.
The host of the inn--formerly an assistant butler in Madame du Barry's
hotel at Versailles, was a sharp, sour-natured old fellow, truculent and
avaricious. The spine of this man was a sort of social barometer; by its
exact degree of curvature or stiffness in the presence of a guest the
stable-boys and housemaids knew whether his rank was great or small, and
whether, to please their cantankerous master, they were to fly or walk
at his beck, or in the case of a mere bourgeois, to drink his wine on
the way to his room.
Germain, on first arriving a few days previously, found himself in an
atmosphere of Oriental abjectness; for when the Rouen diligence drove
through the inn gateway, and mine host at his pot-room window remarked
his smart belongings, his landlord soul settled him as a person of
quality. But when the innkeeper had thought it out for an hour over his
wine, his attitude became one of doubt.
"No valet, no people," he muttered, "this fish then is no noble, and
yet, by his mien, no bourgeois. Luggage scanty, dress fine. What is he?
Gambler of Paris? Swiss? Italian? No, he speaks French, but without the
Court accent. By that he is none of _our_ people--that is one point
fixed. A prodigal son, then? Parbleu, I must make him pay in advance."
"Sir," said the landlord, knocking at the door of Germain's room, and
then stepping in rather freely, "I regret to tell you that it is the
rule in Fontainebleau for travellers to pay in advance."
"How much?" replied Germain, pulling out a purse full of pistoles.
The rascal was taken aback.
"I was about to say," said he, retreating, "that though such is the
rule, I am making of your honour an exception."
And he disappeared to further correct his speculations upon the visitor.
"Some little spendthrift of the provinces, I wager," was his next
conclusion. He instructed the senior stable-boy to go in and light three
candles, and chalked up the guest for nine. He also began to concoct his
bill. The household thenceforth took small liberties with Lecour's
orders.
Next day the landlord, when Monsieur was about to mount the handsomest
horse which could be hired in the town, again quitted his post of
observation at the pot-room window and advanced. He knew the animal and
its saddlery; his suave smile reappeared, and his back bent a little as
he noticed with the eye of an expert Germain's ease in his seat.
"Monsieur desires to see the Court, no doubt? He knows, perhaps, that it
does not arrive till Thursday?"
"Indeed. Tell me about the doings of the Court. I have never heard about
it."
A triumphant, hard expression came over Boniface's visage. He looked up
at his guest, straightened himself, turned his back, and went into the
house.
"What," he muttered, "I, the entertainer of counts of twenty quarterings
and the neighbour of a king--am I to have a plebeian in my house so
peasant that he ignores the topic of _all_ society? He shall feel that
he does not impose on Fontainebleau."
Germain's apartment, situated in front of the house, consisted of two
rooms fitted up with some elegance, and both looking out upon the
market-place and church. He was now told that these quarters were
engaged by "persons of quality to whom Monsieur would doubtless give
place in the usual manner." He submitted without protest, and accepted
uncomplainingly the inferior chamber assigned to him on the courtyard in
the rear.
The little town shortly began to fill with liveliness and tradesmen. A
fine carriage drove up before the inn, its horses ridden by postillions,
and followed by two mounted grooms. Three young noblemen, brothers, of
an exceedingly handsome type, alighted. The keeper of the "Holy Ghost"
and his two rows of servants grovelled before them in a body and
conducted them to the best suites within, including that taken from
Germain.
It was next morning that the latter met de Bailleul.
His host now placed the final insult upon him. At dinner he motioned him
roughly to sit at the table of the rustics.
Germain refused; he was paying for better.
The landlord angrily resisted. The Canadian, now aroused, for he saw at
last the intention to slight him, stopped, laid his hand significantly
on the hilt of his sword, and looked at the man. That motion in those
days had but one meaning. He was let alone.
Within an hour the coach of the Chevalier drove in for him and his
baggage. The sycophant recognised the arms on the panel and collapsed.
Yet that hour's reflection on the innkeeper's conduct woke Lecour to the
power of rank in old Europe.