On the following day, Sunday, on account of this tumult, we only tarried until after dinner, and then changed our quarters to the “Pike,” where we fared excellently. The son of the captain of the town, who was brought up as a page in the household of M. de Meru,[48] was always in attendance upon Messieurs at table and elsewhere. He did not know a word of French. The service at table is very often varied. They gave us here, and subsequently in other places, after the cloth was removed, other courses with our wine. The first what the Gascons call _canaules_, then spiced bread, and lastly white bread cut into slices, but still holding together. In the cuttings they put plenty of spices and salt, as also in the crust of the bread. There are many lepers in this country, the highways being full of them. The villagers give their workmen for mid-day meal large flat loaves,[49] made with fennel, and spread upon these a mess of bacon, cut very small and mixed with cloves of garlic. The Germans, when they would do honour to a man, always place themselves on his left side, whatever seat he may occupy, and maintain that to sit on his right hand is to put an insult on him, saying that to show true deference to a man it is necessary to leave his right side free, so that he may easily put his hand to his arms. After dinner on the Sunday we quitted Constance, and after crossing the lake at a point about a league from the town, we reached Smardorff in time for bed, after travelling two leagues. Smardorff[50] is a small Catholic town. We had lodging at the “Standard of Cologne,” a post-house which is kept here for the Emperor’s route into Italy. There, as in other places, they fill the mattresses with the leaves of a certain tree, which serves the purpose better than straw and lasts longer. The town is surrounded by a wide plain of vineyard which produces excellent wine. On Monday, the 10th October, we started after breakfast; for M. de Montaigne was persuaded by the beauty of the day to change the plan he had made of going to Ravensburg, and make a day’s journey to Lindau instead. M. de Montaigne never took breakfast, but caused to be brought to him a piece of dry bread which he would eat during the journey, adding thereto occasionally such grapes as he could get on the road, the vintage being still in course of gathering in this region even up to the outskirts of Lindau. Their practice is to train the vines up on trellises, and they leave therein divers verdurous alleys which are delightful to the view. We passed through Sonchem,[51] an imperial Catholic town on the bank of the Lake of Constance, to which all the wares of Ulm and Nuremburg and divers other places are brought in waggons, thence to be conveyed through the lake to the Rhine route. After travelling three leagues we arrived about three in the afternoon at Linde.[52]