Clementina

The village was a straggling half-mile of low cottages, lost as it were

on the level of a wide plain. Across this plain, bare but for a few

lines of poplars and stunted willow-trees, Wogan had ridden all the

afternoon; and so little did the thatched cottages break the monotony of

the plain's appearance, that though he had had the village within his

vision all that while, he came upon it unawares. The dusk was gathering,

and already through the tiny windows the meagre lights gleamed upon the

road and gave to the falling raindrops the look of steel beads. Four

days would now bring Wogan to Schlestadt. The road was bad and full of

holes. He determined to go no farther that night if he could find a

lodging in the village, and coming upon a man who stood in his path he

stopped his horse.

"Is there an inn where a traveller may sleep?" he asked.

"Assuredly," replied the man, "and find forage for his horse. The last

house--but I will myself show your Honour the way."

"There is no need, my friend, that you should take a colic," said Wogan.

"I shall earn enough drink to correct the colic," said the man. He had a

sack over his head and shoulders to protect him from the rain, and

stepped out in front of Wogan's horse. They came to the end of the

street and passed on into the open darkness. About twenty yards farther

a house stood by itself at the roadside, but there were only lights in

one or two of the upper windows, and it held out no promise of

hospitality. In front of it, however, the man stopped; he opened the

door and halloaed into the passage. Wogan stopped too, and above his

head something creaked and groaned like a gibbet in the wind. He looked

up and saw a sign-board glimmering in the dusk with a new coat of white

paint. He had undoubtedly come to the inn, and he dismounted.

The landlord advanced at that moment to the door.

"My man," said he, "will take your horse to the stable;" and the fellow

who had guided Wogan led the horse off.

"Oh, is he your man?" said Wogan. "Ah!" And he followed the landlord

into the house.

It was not only the sign-board which had been newly painted, for in the

narrow passage the landlord stopped Wogan.

"Have a care, sir," said he; "the walls are wet. It will be best if you

stand still while I go forward and bring a light."