AUCTOR. I will, and by this road: to say that on the day of Judgement,
when St Michael weighs souls in his scales, and the wicked are led off
by the Devil with a great rope, as you may see them over the main
porch of Notre Dame (I will heave a stone after them myself I hope),
all the souls of the pedants together will not weigh as heavy and
sound as the one soul of this good woman at the inn.
She put food before me and wine. The wine was good, but in the food
was some fearful herb or other I had never tasted before - a pure spice
or scent, and a nasty one. One could taste nothing else, and it was
revolting; but I ate it for her sake.
Then, very much refreshed, I rose, seized my great staff, shook myself
and said, 'Now it is about noon, and I am off for the frontier.'
At this she made a most fearful clamour, saying that it was madness,
and imploring me not to think of it, and running out fetched from the
stable a tall, sad, pale-eyed man who saluted me profoundly and told
me that he knew more of the mountains than any one for miles. And this
by asking many afterwards I found out to be true.
