Richly-attired nobles, in costumes of almost oriental magnificence,
galloped through the streets on splendid horses, scattering the
groups of citizens, and paying no attention whatever to the angry
murmurs that followed them.
Charlie stopped at a small inn, and there the horses were put up.
Stanislas made inquiries for the shop of Allan Ramsay, mentioning
that his employer was a relation of the Scottish merchant, and had
come out to be with him, until he had learned the language.
"The Scots know their business," the landlord grumbled. "They and
the French and the Jews, together, have their hand in everyone's
pocket. They buy the cattle and grain of the peasants, for what
they choose to give for them, and send them out of the country,
getting all the profits of the transaction; while, as to the
nobles, there is scarce one who is not deep in their books."
"Still, you could not do without them," Stanislas said. "There must
be somebody to buy and to sell, and as the nobles won't do it, and
the peasants can't, I don't see that the foreigners are to be
blamed for coming in and taking the trade."
"That is true enough," the landlord admitted reluctantly. "Still,
there is no doubt the country is kept poor, while, between them,
these men gather up the harvest.
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