First of all, a brigadier in the German army, his secretary, physician, three servants, and seven horses. The brigadier’s name was the Comte de Wostpur.--A Spanish cardinal, with two nephews, two secretaries, an officer of his household, and twelve horses. The cardinal’s name was Monseigneur Herrebia.--A rich merchant of Bremen, with his man-servant and two horses. This merchant’s name was Meinheer Bonstett.--A Venetian senator with his wife and daughter, both extremely beautiful. The senator’s name was Signor Marini.--A Scottish laird, with seven highlanders of his clan, all on foot. The laird’s name was MacCumnor.-- An Austrian from Vienna without title or coat of arms, who had arrived in a carriage; a good deal of the priest, and something of the soldier. He was called the Councilor.--And, finally, a Flemish lady, with a man-servant, a lady’s maid, and a female companion, a large retinue of servants, great display, and immense horses. She was called the Flemish lady. All these travelers had arrived on the same day, and yet their arrival had occasioned no confusion in the inn, no stoppage in the street; their apartments had been fixed upon beforehand, by their couriers or secretaries, who had arrived the previous evening or that very morning. Malicorne, who had arrived the previous day, riding an ill-conditioned horse, with a slender valise, had announced himself at the hotel of the Beau Paon as the friend of a nobleman desirous of witnessing the _fetes_, and who would himself arrive almost immediately. The landlord, on hearing these words, had smiled as if he were perfectly well acquainted either with Malicorne or his friend the nobleman, and had said to him, “Since you are the first arrival, monsieur, choose what apartment you please.” And this was said with that obsequiousness of manners, so full of meaning with landlords, which means, “Make yourself perfectly easy, monsieur: we know with whom we have to do, and you will be treated accordingly.” These words, and their accompanying gesture, Malicorne had thought very friendly, but rather obscure. However, as he did not wish to be very extravagant in his expenses, and as he thought that if he were to ask for a small apartment he would doubtless have been refused, on account of his want of consequence, he hastened to close at once with the innkeeper’s remark, and deceive him with a cunning equal to his own. So, smiling as a man would do for whom whatever might be done was but simply his due, he said, “My dear host, I shall take the best and the gayest room in the house.” “With a stable?” “Yes, with a stable.” “And when will you take it?” “Immediately if it be possible.” “Quite so.” “But,” said Malicorne, “I shall leave the large room unoccupied for the present.” “Very good!” said the landlord, with an air of intelligence. “Certain reasons, which you will understand by and by, oblige me to take, at my own cost, this small room only.” “Yes, yes,” said the host.