In the
happy kingdom of France the fortunate man who escorted a pretty woman,
no matter where, needed not to fear ridicule or contumely, and was sure
to be envied.
The large low room into which Maitre Chirriguirri ushered the party,
with much ceremony and many bows, was scarcely so magnificent as he
had given them reason to expect, but our strolling players had long ago
learned to take whatever came in their way without grumbling, and they
seated themselves quietly on the rude wooden settles ranged round a
rough, stone platform in the centre of the apartment, upon which a few
sticks of wood were blazing the smoke escaping through an opening in the
roof above. From an iron bar which crossed this opening a strong chain
was suspended, and fastened to it was the crane, so that it hung at the
proper height over the fire--for this was the kitchen as well as the
reception room. The low ceiling was blackened with the smoke that filled
the upper part of the room and escaped slowly through the hole over the
fire, unless a puff of wind drove it back again. A row of bright copper
casseroles hanging against the wall--like the burnished shields along
the sides of the ancient triremes, if this comparison be not too noble
for such a lowly subject--gleamed vaguely in the flashing of the red
fire-light, and a large, half-empty wine-skin lying on the floor in
one corner looked like a beheaded body carelessly flung down there.
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