The request of the poor little man was but reasonable; and after proceeding about half a league farther on our way, we stopped at a small sort of inn, where I suppose the carriers from Lerida ordinarily paused to water their horses. Here, with rest, and food, and wine, I strove to put Achilles into a fit state for proceeding on his journey; but none of these applications seemed to touch the part affected, and the ludicrous stiffness that supervened when he had sat still for a few minutes, almost made me abandon the hope of going forward that day. After about an hour, however, a very powerful incentive to motion came in aid of my wishes, and soon induced Monsieur Achilles to start from his settle, and though every joint seemed made of wood, and creaked in the moving, he nevertheless got to his horse even more quickly than myself. The cause of this revolution in his feelings was very simple, and consisted in nothing more than a sound, somewhat disagreeable to one of his peculiar temperament. The morning was clear and the wind high, coming in quick gusts from the side of Lerida, which, as near as I could judge, lay at the distance of two miles. It was not far enough, however, to prevent our hearing, after having rested, as I said, near an hour, the beating of a drum, mingled with the retreat-call upon the trumpet. At this Achilles pricked up his ears, and the good dame of the house shrugged up her shoulders, saying, "The soldiers again! They will never stop till they have taken our all!" A pause then ensued; but the moment after, an irregular fire of musketry made itself heard, and close again upon that, burst after burst, came the roaring of some heavy pieces of cannon. The good hostess, who was alone in the house, threw herself upon her knees before a picture of St. Jago, and beseeched him so heartily for protection, that I could hardly divert her attention to receive payment for what ourselves and our horses had consumed. In the meanwhile, Achilles, who seemed heartily to sympathise with the hostess, though his feelings urged him in another direction, had moved to his horse with a very white face; and before I could mount, was already on the road. "Let us make haste," cried he, "in God's name! To my ears, the noise of cannon is no way harmonious. Let us make haste, monseigneur--I am sure I hear them coming! I do not even love the sound of a firelock. The only drum that should be tolerated is that of a charlatan; for though he may kill as many people or more than a soldier, he does it quietly, promising to cure them all the while. Don't you hear a noise behind us, monseigneur?--I am sure I hear a drum, of which sound the drum of my ear has all the jealousy of a rival:--_Morbleu!_ what a roar of cannon! That must have killed a great many people!"