He wore a brown cloth
doublet, brown breeches, and green hose.
"A thousand devils!" he roared, as I entered. "Must a fighting man stand
and beg for a kiss from a tavern wench? I don't believe in any of your
painted saints, wooden or ivory, but I swear by all of them, good-looking
girls are made to be hugged, and I was made to hug them! Here, you ten
times damned dog of a landlord, bring me another bottle of your filthy
wine, or I'll make a hole in your barrel of a body! Be quick, or I'll
roast you on your own spit, and burn down your stinking old inn!" At this
moment he saw me, as I stood in the doorway. "Come, monsieur!" he cried,
"I'm not fastidious, curse me, and you might drink with me if you were
the poxy old Pope himself! Here, wench, go and welcome the gentleman with
a kiss!" And he shoved the girl towards me and began to pound, in sheer
drunken turbulence, on the table with his mug.
I left the kitchen to this noisy guest, and took a room up-stairs, where
the landlord presently brought me light and supper.
I paid in advance for my night's lodging, and arranged to have access, at
any time during the night, to the shed in which was my horse, so that at
the least alarm I might make hasty flight. I opened my window, that the
sound of horses on the road might be audible to me from a distance.
Then, having eaten, I put out my light and lay down, in my clothes, ready
on occasion to rise and drop from the window, take horse, and be off.
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