The Red Inn | Page 5

noise decreased, the various travellers retired to their
rooms, the clouds of smoke dispersed. When places were set for the
two young men, and the classic carp of the Rhine appeared upon the
table, eleven o'clock was striking and the room was empty. The silence
of night enabled the young surgeons to hear vaguely the noise their
horses made in eating their provender, and the murmur of the waters of
the Rhine, together with those indefinable sounds which always enliven
an inn when filled with persons preparing to go to bed. Doors and
windows are opened and shut, voices murmur vague words, and a few
interpellations echo along the passages.
At this moment of silence and tumult the two Frenchmen and their
landlord, who was boasting of Andernach, his inn, his cookery, the
Rhine wines, the Republican army, and his wife, were all three
listening with a sort of interest to the hoarse cries of sailors in a boat
which appeared to be coming to the wharf. The innkeeper, familiar no

doubt with the guttural shouts of the boatmen, went out hastily, but
presently returned conducting a short stout man, behind whom walked
two sailors carrying a heavy valise and several packages. When these
were deposited in the room, the short man took the valise and placed it
beside him as he seated himself without ceremony at the same table as
the surgeons.
"Go and sleep in your boat," he said to the boatmen, "as the inn is full.
Considering all things, that is best."
"Monsieur," said the landlord to the new-comer, "these are all the
provisions I have left," pointing to the supper served to the two
Frenchmen; "I haven't so much as another crust of bread nor a bone."
"No sauer-kraut?"
"Not enough to put in my wife's thimble! As I had the honor to tell you
just now, you can have no bed but the chair on which you are sitting,
and no other chamber than this public room."
At these words the little man cast upon the landlord, the room, and the
two Frenchmen a look in which caution and alarm were equally
expressed.
["Here," said Monsieur Hermann, interrupting himself, "I ought to tell
you that we have never known the real name nor the history of this man;
his papers showed that he came from Aix-la-Chapelle; he called
himself Wahlenfer and said that he owned a rather extensive pin
manufactory in the suburbs of Neuwied. Like all the manufacturers of
that region, he wore a surtout coat of common cloth, waistcoat and
breeches of dark green velveteen, stout boots, and a broad leather belt.
His face was round, his manners frank and cordial; but during the
evening he seemed unable to disguise altogether some secret
apprehension or, possibly, some anxious care. The innkeeper's opinion
has always been that this German merchant was fleeing his country.
Later I heard that his manufactory had been burned by one of those
unfortunate chances so frequent in times of war. In spite of its anxious
expression the man's face showed great kindliness. His features were

handsome; and the whiteness of his stout throat was well set off by a
black cravat, a fact which Wilhelm showed jestingly to Prosper."
Here Monsieur Taillefer drank another glass of water.]
Prosper courteously proposed that the merchant should share their
supper, and Wahlenfer accepted the offer without ceremony, like a man
who feels himself able to return a civility. He placed his valise on the
floor and put his feet on it, took off his hat and gloves and removed a
pair of pistols from his belt; the landlord having by this time set a knife
and fork for him, the three guests began to satisfy their appetites in
silence. The atmosphere of this room was hot and the flies were so
numerous that Prosper requested the landlord to open the window
looking toward the outer gate, so as to change the air. This window was
barricaded by an iron bar, the two ends of which were inserted into
holes made in the window casings. For greater security, two bolts were
screwed to each shutter. Prosper accidentally noticed the manner in
which the landlord managed these obstacles and opened the window.
As I am now speaking of localities, this is the place to describe to you
the interior arrangements of the inn; for, on an accurate knowledge of
the premises depends an understanding of my tale. The public room in
which the three persons I have named to you were sitting, had two
outer doors. One opened on the main road to Andernach, which skirts
the Rhine. In front of the inn was a little wharf, to which the boat hired
by the merchant for his journey was moored. The other door opened
upon the