The inn, however, was fresh-looking and clean, and the landlord, who soon appeared, although he was not at the entrance as usual when the coach stopped, was the perfection of a French aubergist,--as polished as a prince, and full of smiles. While Pierrot la Grange and Jacques Beaupré stayed by the carriage, at their master's desire, to take out the little sum of his baggage and to bestow a small gratuity upon the coachman, the host led his guest up to a large, somewhat gloomy chamber floored with polished tiles, recommended his fish--the best in the world--and his poultry, which he asseverated strongly were the genuine production of Maine, and took the young gentleman's pleasure as to his dinner. He had hardly gone when the two servants appeared, bringing various articles; but their principal load was evidently in the mind. The face of Pierrot, which temperate habits had not yet improved in fatness, though it had become somewhat blanched in hue, was at least three inches longer since they entered Nantes; and Jacques Beaupré, always solemn even in the midst of his fun, was now not only solemn, but gloomy. "I wish we were safe out of this place, sir," said Pierrot, shutting the door after him. "It is a horrible place!" "What is the matter?" asked Edward: "the whole town looks sad, and you both seem to have caught the infection." "Did not the landlord tell you, sir?" said Jacques Beaupré. "I thought landlords always told all they knew, and a little more. But I suppose he has lived long enough near a court to keep his tongue in his mouth, for fear somebody should cut it out." "The matter, sir, is this," said Pierrot: "the poor young Count de Chalais, who was confined in the dungeons close under the room where they put you, has been condemned to die this morning,--they say, for a few light words." "Indeed!" said Edward, with a somewhat sickening memory of the dangers he himself had seen: "that is very sad. But probably the king will pardon him." "Oh, not he," answered Pierrot: "they say the poor countess, his mother, has moved heaven and earth to save him, without the least effect. His head is probably off by this time." "No, no; that cannot be," rejoined Jacques: "did not the boy tell us that the two executioners had both been spirited away?" "Yes, but he said that a soldier--a prisoner--had been found to undertake the job," answered Pierrot. "Oh, it is a bad business, Master Ned! They say the queen herself has been brought before the council, and the Duke of Anjou threatened with death, and half the court exiled, and the cardinal in such a humor that----" "That every one as he walks along is feeling his ears, to be sure that there is any head upon his shoulders," added Jacques Beaupré. "Would it not be better for you, sir, to go to that good Monsieur de Tronson, and be civil to him, and make as many friends as possible?"