“Sir--sweet sir--dear sir--great sir!” sighed the host, little elated at the prospect of sleeping for the next thirty nights in the stable, “can’t you choose some other resting-place? I can assure you, that if you go nearly as far as Montella--about half a day’s journey from here--you will find a magnificent hotel, where you will be infinitely better lodged than here. Are you listening to me, my dear sir?” A vigorous snore proved to Ali that he was simply throwing away his eloquence. To make quite sure the knight was asleep, the landlord began to inspect his purse, but Porc-en-Truie did not stir. “Well, this is sleeping like a nobleman,” said Ali, not half satisfied by the self-appointed award of a handful of gold pieces. “For this amount I can afford to let him finish his nap!” [Illustration: 189] CHAPTER IV. ALI PÉPÉ’S LITTLE HARVEST. ALLEGRIGNAC, Porc-en-Truie. Mont-Rognon, and Maragougnia continued to dwell in unconscious propinquity. “Who can tell what has become of my companions?” said all four, each to himself. “They have perished beyond doubt, or are prisoners at best. Faith! that’s their look-out! Success is very properly the prize of superior intelligence.” For a whole month Porc-en-Truie slept, Mont-Rognon ate, Allegrignac played the guitar in a whisper, and Maragougnia plotted impossible meannesses. On the twenty-eighth day of his captivity Mont-Rognon greeted Ali with a smile which he struggled to make as gracious as possible. Ali was terrified to see it, dreading lest his customer should ask him for credit on the strength of such an act of condescension. “Sit down here opposite to me,” said Mont-Rognon, growing every moment more agreeable to Ali, who was growing every moment more uncomfortable. “I am tired of eating alone. Besides, I have something to say to you.” The landlord sat down, poured himself out a bumper, and listened. “Since I have been here I have watched you closely, and the result of my examination is favourable to you. Occupied as I have been, it was impossible for us to exchange much talk, but it was enough to make me appreciate you. I recognise in you one of those bold spirits who, regarding life as a journey, reject from the outset whatever may encumber their progress. Conscience is to them a stranger whose name gives rise to a smile, and remorse a bugbear invented by the weak to restrain the strong. They only require in life that which it is able to offer, but they are not of the kidney to forego one single opening for enjoyment, let the price be what it may. People of my way of thinking are always ready to encourage that spirit. Do you comprehend?” [Illustration: 191] “That depends on what is to follow. I’ll tell you presently. Go on!” “I travel, as you have been told, in the gastronomical interests of various sovereigns. One of them, whose name I choose to withhold, has sent me to this country with a mission so truly extraordinary that I dread to impart it to you.”