For my part I did not leave the muleteer, who told me that he would undertake to carry me to one of the best inns in the town: where the host was an excellent cook, and where I need not be afraid of having hatched eggs passed upon me. This assurance pleased me exceedingly, for I required a good meal to set me to rights: and we proceeded to the door of a house of tolerable good appearance, the master of which received us with great civility. This was perhaps the completest knave in that part of the country; and I only got out of the fryingpan into the fire, as the saying is. The muleteer led his beasts to the stable, where he remained for some time to provide for their wants, and as I was much fatigued, the soles of my feet being much swollen, and my thighs feeling as if they were broken, from riding three or four hours without stirrups, I laid myself down and rested until the muleteer returned, who asked me whether I was not ready for my supper; for that he had resolved to set out next morning at break of day, that he might reach Cazalla before night, and should therefore be glad to get to bed early. I answered that there was nothing would give me greater satisfaction than to sit down to table, provided he would assist me to rise and even to walk, as I could scarcely support my own weight. He did me this service so readily that I felt much obliged to him. We then called the landlord, and told him that we wished for a good supper. “Gentlemen,” answered he, “I have such excellent provisions in the house, that you will have yourselves only to blame if you do not fare well, for you have only to say what you would like.” This answer pleased me exceedingly, but I was afraid that he exaggerated, for I fancied that he had the looks of a rogue; no matter, said I to myself, let him be as much a rogue as he pleases, so he use us but well; he was a pleasant sort of fellow, and a man of some humour. “Will you allow me,” said he, “to dress you a part of the pluck of a calf that I killed yesterday? I will make you a ragout of it fit for the Gods; it was the prettiest little calf,” added he, taking me kindly by the hand, “that you perhaps ever saw. I was extremely mortified that I was obliged to kill it, but the drought of the season would not allow me to keep it.” We begged that if our supper was ready, he would let us have it quickly; “it is not only ready dressed,” said he, “but well seasoned also;” upon which he skipped into the kitchen, and returned in a few minutes with two plates, in one of which was a sallad, and in the other a part of the pluck of this much-lamented calf.