“You will choose me apartments opening on the garden. I shall not go out, and nobody must have access to me save you and the sun. You will have the room adorned with flowers. I never grumble at the accounts which innkeepers present to me. I satisfy myself with the explanation that they are not strong in their arithmetic; I am not myself, either. But I insist on being treated well. One word more: you give me the idea of a man who is rather proud of his ears. I always respect people’s tastes, but I shall be compelled to deprive you of those ornaments if you mention to a single soul that I have stayed here. You understand me?” “Clearly!” “Then lead me to my prison!” It was not long before Allegrignac was duly installed. His furniture consisted of a bed, a table, some flowers, and a guitar. He ordered breakfast, and desired to be left to himself. “I am curious to learn what these strange people want here,” said Ali, as he went up-stairs. “I only hope the fourth knight won’t take possession of my bed for an indefinite period. Let us try and get him out of it at once.” The host gave a vigorous push at Porc-en-Truie’s door. “Sir! you bade me call you in good time. The sun has been up some hours. Are not you going to start?” “Come in!” said the Lord of Machavoine. “I want to have a word with you.” “But, my dear sir, I can’t come in. You shut yourself in when you turned me out, and I know from experience that one cannot break in the door.” Porc-en-Truie was reluctantly compelled to get out of bed and open the door, jumping into bed again, however, immediately, and turning his face to the wall. “Do you know this bed is delicious! I have slept splendidly in it, and I am not such a fool as to go scouring the highways while I can get a good rest here. Listen to me attentively, and don’t let me have to repeat anything, for I’m dying for sleep. You will place beside me on a table a venison pasty, two cold dishes, some preserved fruit, and thirty bottles of wine. Thirty--you hear?” “Only too well!” “Once a week you will come in on tip-toe, and lay the repast afresh. I am going to take a nap--you may call me in a month’s time.” “I trust you won’t think of doing so--keeping me out of my bedroom for a month-” “I warn you that I do not know how much money there is in my purse, and that I sleep so soundly, you might rob me of it without my opening my eyes. Ah, by the way, I forgot! As I don’t wish to be disturbed, I command you not to tell a soul that I am here. I don’t care a bit if your inn is on fire, if the enemy is coming, or an earthquake happens. I mean to have my sleep out. Above all, don’t let my fellow-travellers know of my determination. Nothing less than your life or death depends on that. Now, set everything out properly here, and don’t let me hear any more of you for a month.”