“I don’t like talking about myself,” said Allegrignac, “but for this once I will yield to your importunity, ami inform you who I am. You must surely have heard of the great giantess Alcomiroziropoulopilousitounitapignac!” The landlord eyed the Count of Salgoon askance for awhile, then, resigning himself to his fate, he made an assenting gesture. “She was my mother,” said Allegrignac. “She perished after six: years of married happiness, murdered by my unhappy father, who was never tired of beating her. Disgusted with matrimony--and not without cause--she determined to live single. I came into the world within twelve months afterwards, and chose the profession of arms. My fortune, my noble birth--everything assured me that I must owe everything to my own prowess. I cheerfully accepted my lot, and crossed the Alps to avenge my father. I laid siege to Toulouse. Need I continue to relate my misfortunes?” “Not on my account, my lord. The particulars you have just related suffice to inform me with whom I have to deal. I have only to ask you who the fourth warrior of your party is?” “This weeping willow----” “I am a poor devil of a wanderer in search of fortune,” hastily interposed Maragougnia. “My wants are as modest as my means: I know how to be satisfied with little.” “I treat my customers according to their tastes and their purses,” said Ali Pépé. “You have, noble sirs, asked for a good many things. I will now give you a sketch of the accommodation I have to offer. I have but one room and one bed to let----” “I’ll take it, then,” said Porc-en-Truie, promptly: “I wouldn’t sleep out of doors to-night for the world. I shall not resume my journey till to-morrow. In the meantime, though, if either of you wishes to have half the bed----” “Thanks, I shall push on to-night,” said Maragougnia, as he left the room to find his squire, and tell him not to give the horses a feed. “They will find grazing on the road,” he remarked. “As for me,” said Mont-Rognon, “I give up the room to you with all my heart. I intend to spend the night in eating. I shall not start till to-morrow morning.” “I’ll keep you company till then,” said Allegrignac; “we have a few bottles and an old dispute to settle. You owe me a dozen, and I’ll bet you that you’ll be under the table by the ninth. I feel just in the humour for the trial to-day.” A scornful smile was the only answer vouchsafed by Mont-Rognon, who turned to the host, and asked, “What soup do you think you can give us?” “Can your lordship put up with pomegranate soup?” “Let us see the pomegranates.” Ali ran to his larder, and returned with a basket-full of fruit. Mont-Rognon selected a dozen. “Don’t forget to serve it up warm, and with a slice or two of orange in it. What next?”