A boy stood at the horses' heads, but his dress and sleepy face showed that he had not been half an hour out of bed, and there was no one else.

Wogan was wondering how in the world she had travelled as far as this inn.

The lady explained.
"The postillion who drove me from Florence was drunk--oh, but drunk! He rolled off his horse just here, opposite the door.

See, I beat him," and she raised the beribboned handle of a toy-like cane.

"But it was no use.
I broke my cane over his back, but he would not get up.