I stepped to the door, with very natural curiosity, a company of four mounted men escorting a mule-litter, the curtains of which were drawn so that nothing might be seen of him or her that rode within. Grooms were those four, as all the world might see at the first glance, and the livery they wore was that of the noble House of Santafior—the holy white flower of the quince being embroidered on the breast of their gabardines. They bore upon them such signs of hard and hasty travelling that it was soon guessed they had spent the night in the saddle. Their horses were in a foam of sweat; and the men themselves were splashed with mud from foot to cap. Even as I was going forward to regard them the taverner appeared, leading my horse by the bridle. Now at an inn the traveller that arrives is ever of more importance than he that departs. At sight of those horsemen, the taverner forgot my impatience, for he paused to bow in welcome to the one that seemed the leader. “Most Magnificent,” said he to that liveried hind, “command me.” “We need a guide,” the fellow answered with an ill grace. “A guide, Illustrious?” quoth the host. “A guide?” “I said a guide, fool,” answered him the groom. “Heard you never of such animals? We need a man who knows the hills, to lead us by the shortest road to Cagli.” The taverner shook his grey head stupidly. He bowed again until I fancied I could hear the creak of his old joints. “Here be no guides, Magnificent,” he deplored. “Perhaps at Gualdo—” “Animal,” was the retort—for true courtesy commend me to a lacquey!—“it is not our wish to pursue the road as far as Gualdo, else had we not stopped at this kennel of yours.” I scarce know what it can have been that moved me to act as I then did, for, in the truth, the manner of that rascal of a groom was little prepossessing, and his master, I doubted, could be little better that he left the fellow to hector it thus over that wretched tavern oaf. But I stepped forward. “Did you say that you were journeying to Cagli?” questioned I. He eyed me sourly, suspicion writ athwart his round, ill-favoured face, But my motley was hidden from his sight. My cloak, my hat and boots allowed naught of my true condition to appear, and might as well have covered a lordling as a jester. Yet his inveterate surliness the rascal could not wholly conquer. “What may be the purpose of your question?” he growled. “To serve your master, whoever he may be,” I answered him serenely, “although it is a service I do not press upon him. I, too, am journeying to Cagli, and like yourselves, I am in haste and go the shorter way across the hills, with which I am well acquainted. If it so please you to follow me your need of a guide may thus be satisfied.” It was the tone to take if I would be respected. Had I proposed that we should journey in company I should not have earned me the half of the deference which was accorded to my haughtily granted leave that they might follow me if they so chose.