"Ah! I suppose you mean that you have someone in the house?" "Alas! yes, my lord," the landlord answered, hanging his head. The traveller stamped his foot passionately. "S'blood!" he exclaimed; then, at once resuming an apparent calmness, he continued, "Who are the persons?" "There is only one." "Ah!" said the traveller, with satisfaction, "If there be only one, nothing is more easy than to dislodge him." "I fear not," the landlord ventured timidly, "for this traveller, who is a stranger to me, I swear, looks to me like a rude gentleman, and not at all inclined to surrender his place." "Well, well, I will take it on myself," the traveller remarked carelessly, "where is he?" "There, in the kitchen, my lord, warming himself at the fire." "That will do; is the room ready?" "Yes, my lord." "Rejoin those gentlemen, and show them the way yourself; none of your people must know what takes place here." The landlord, delighted at having got off so cheaply, bowed respectfully, and hastily retired in the direction of the garden; as for the traveller, after exchanging a few whispered words with a footman, who remained with him, he pulled his hat over his eyes, opened the door, and boldly entered the kitchen. It was deserted: the stranger had disappeared. The traveller looked anxiously around him; the waiting men, probably in obedience to orders previously received from their master, had withdrawn to their attics. After a few seconds' hesitation, the traveller returned to the garden. "Well," the landlord asked, "have you seen him, my lord?" "No," he replied, "but it is of no consequence; not a word about him to the persons who accompany me; he has doubtless left, but if that be not the case, be careful that he does not approach the apartments you have reserved for us." "Hum," the landlord muttered to himself, "all this is not clear;" and he withdrew very pensively. Truth to tell, the worthy man was frightened. His new customers had unpleasant faces, and a rough manner, which reassured him but slightly; and then again he fancied he had seen alarming shadows gliding about among the trees in his garden, a fact which he had carefully avoided verifying, but which heightened his secret apprehensions. Dame Tiphaine, torch in hand, was waiting at the house door, in readiness to light the travellers, and conduct them to their apartments. When the coach had been turned and stopped, one of the travellers went up to it, opened the door, and assisted a lady in getting out. This lady, who was magnificently dressed, appeared to be suffering, and she walked with difficulty. Still, in spite of her weakness, she declined the arm of one of the travellers offered her in support, and approached Dame Tiphaine, who, compassionate like all women, hastened to offer her the service she seemed to request of her, and helped her to ascend the rather steep staircase that led to the dais room.