"God forbid!" he said. "But the
devil is within doors, and we must do his bidding."
"Ah!" I replied, my curiosity aroused "I should like to see
him."
The boor shaded his eyes, and looked at me sulkily from under his
matted and tangled hair. "You are not of his company?" he said
with suspicion.
"I hope not," I answered, smiling at his simplicity. "But your
corn is your own. I will call the men out." On which I made a
sign to them to return. "Now," I said, as I walked my horse
slowly towards the house, while he tramped along beside me, "who
is within?"
"M. Gringuet," he said, with another stealthy gesture.
"Ah!" I said, "I am afraid that I am no wiser."
"The tax-gatherer."
"Oh! And those are his horses?" He nodded.
"Still, I do not see why they are in the corn?"
"I have no hay."
"But there is grass."
"Ay," the inn-keeper answered bitterly.
"And he said that I might eat it. It was not good enough for his
horses. They must have hay or corn; and if I had none, so much
the worse for me.
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