I was sorry to have vexed the poor fellow, and said no more, thinking the
priest might have taken a fancy to economise for the count's profit or
his own. I determined to question him on the subject.

As soon as I was dressed I went out to walk off my bad humour. I met the
priest-steward, who had been to the locksmith. He told me that the man
had no ready-made locks, but he was going to fit my door with a padlock,
of which I should have the key.

"Provided I can lock my door," I said, "I care not how it's done."

I returned to the house to see the padlock fitted, and while the
locksmith was hammering away I asked the priest why he had given a tallow
candle instead of one or two wax tapers.

"I should never dare to give you tapers, sir, without express orders from
the count."

"I should have thought such a thing would go without saying."

"Yes, in other houses, but here nothing goes without saying. I have to
buy the tapers and he pays me, and every time he has one it is noted
down."

"Then you can give me a pound of wax lights if I pay you for them?"

"Of course, but I think I must tell the count, for you know . . . ."

"Yes, I know all about it, but I don't care:"