When I came back to the inn for a bit of breakfast, the landlady was in
the kitchen combing out her daughter's hair; and I made her my
compliments upon its beauty.

'Oh no,' said the mother; 'it is not so beautiful as it ought to be.
Look, it is too fine.'

Thus does a wise peasantry console itself under adverse physical
circumstances, and, by a startling democratic process, the defects of the
majority decide the type of beauty.

'And where,' said I, 'is monsieur?'

'The master of the house is upstairs,' she answered, 'making you a goad.'

Blessed be the man who invented goads! Blessed the innkeeper of Bouchet
St. Nicolas, who introduced me to their use! This plain wand, with an
eighth of an inch of pin, was indeed a sceptre when he put it in my
hands. Thenceforward Modestine was my slave. A prick, and she passed
the most inviting stable door. A prick, and she broke forth into a
gallant little trotlet that devoured the miles. It was not a remarkable
speed, when all was said; and we took four hours to cover ten miles at
the best of it. But what a heavenly change since yesterday! No more
wielding of the ugly cudgel; no more flailing with an aching arm; no more
broadsword exercise, but a discreet and gentlemanly fence. And what
although now and then a drop of blood should appear on Modestine's mouse-
coloured wedge-like rump? I should have preferred it otherwise, indeed;
but yesterday's exploits had purged my heart of all humanity. The
perverse little devil, since she would not be taken with kindness, must