"Well, what is it ?" I said sharply.
"They say that there is no room for the horses," Jean answered querulously, scratching his head; half sullen, half cowed, a country servant all over.
"And there is not!" cried the foremost of the gang about the door, hastening to confront us in turn.

His tone was insolent, and it needed but half an eye to see that his fellows were inclined to back him up.
He stuck his arms akimbo and faced us with an impudent smile.

A lanthorn on the ground beside him throwing an uncertain light on the group, I saw that they all wore the same badge.
"Come," I said sternly, "the stables are large, and your horses cannot fill them.

Some room must be found for mine." "To be sure! Make way for the king!" he retorted.

While one jeered "VIVE LE ROI!" and the rest laughed.