“Why this difference between your room and mine, you will ask?” said Benassis.  “Listen a moment.  I have always blushed for those who put their guests in the attics, who furnish them with mirrors that distort everything to such a degree that any one beholding himself might think that he was smaller or larger than nature made him, or suffering from apoplectic stroke or some other bad complaint.  Ought we not to do our utmost to make a room as pleasant as possible during the time that our friend can be with us?  Hospitality, to my thinking, is a virtue, a pleasure, and a luxury; but in whatever light it is considered, nay, even if you regard it as a speculation, ought not our guest or our friend to be made much of?  Ought not every refinement of luxury to be reserved for him?

“So the best furniture is put into your room, where a thick carpet is laid down; there are hangings on the walls, and a clock and wax candles; and for you Jacquotte will do her best, she has no doubt brought a night-light, and a pair of new slippers and some milk, and her warming-pan too for your benefit.  I hope that you will find that luxurious armchair the most comfortable seat you have ever sat in, it was a discovery of the late cure’s; I do not know where he found it, but it is a fact that if you wish to meet with the perfection of comfort, beauty, or convenience, you must ask counsel of the Church.  Well, I hope that you will find everything in your room to your liking.  You will find some good razors and excellent soap, and all the trifling details that make one’s own home so pleasant.  And if my views on the subject of hospitality should not at once explain the difference between your room and mine, to-morrow, M. Bluteau, you will arrive at a wonderfully clear comprehension of the bareness of my room and the untidy condition of my study, when you see all the continual comings and goings here.  Mine is not an indoor life, to begin with.  I am almost always out of the house, and if I stay at home, peasants come in at every moment to speak to me.  My body and soul and house are all theirs.  Why should I worry about social conventions in these matters, or trouble myself over the damage unintentionally done to floors and furniture by these worthy folk?  Such things cannot be helped.  Luxury properly belongs to the boudoir and the guest-chamber, to great houses and chateaux.  In short, as I scarcely do more than sleep here, what do I want with superfluities of wealth?  You do not know, moreover, how little I care for anything in this world.”

They wished each other a friendly good-night with a warm shake of the hand, and went to bed.  But before the commandant slept, he came to more than one conclusion as to the man who hour by hour grew greater in his eyes.

CHAPTER II

A DOCTOR’S ROUND

The first thing next morning Genestas went to the stable, drawn thither by the affection that every man feels for the horse that he rides.  Nicolle’s method of rubbing down the animal was quite satisfactory.