jumped with his interest.

Accordingly, as soon as it was light, having fed and groomed the
Cid, which was always the first employment of my day, I set out
in search of Fresnoy, and was presently lucky enough to find him
taking his morning draught outside the 'Three Pigeons,' a little
inn not far from the north gate. It was more than a fortnight
since I had set eyes on him, and the lapse of time had worked so
great a change for the worse in him that, forgetting my own
shabbiness, I looked at him askance, as doubting the wisdom of
enlisting one who bore so plainly the marks of poverty and
dissipation. His great face--he was a large man--had suffered
recent ill-usage, and was swollen and discoloured, one eye being
as good as closed. He was unshaven, his hair was ill-kempt, his
doublet unfastened at the throat, and torn and stained besides.
Despite the cold--for the morning was sharp and frosty, though
free from wind--there were half a dozen packmen drinking and
squabbling before the inn, while the beasts they drove quenched
their thirst at the trough. But these men seemed with one accord
to leave him in possession of the bench at which he sat; nor did
I wonder much at this when I saw the morose and savage glance
which he shot at me as I approached. Whether he read my first
impressions in my face, or for some other reason felt distaste
for my company, I could not determine. But, undeterred by his
behaviour, I sat down beside him and called for wine.

He nodded sulkily in answer to my greeting, and cast a half-
shamed, half-angry look at me out of the corners of his eyes.
'You need not look at me as though I were a dog,' he muttered
presently. 'You are not so very spruce yourself, my friend. But