VILNA, RUSSIA

We met our first real discourtesy in Berlin at the hands of a German,
and although he was only the manager of an hotel, we lay it up against
him and cannot forgive him for it. It happened in this wise:

My companion, being the courier, bought our tickets straight through
to St. Petersburg, with the privilege of stopping a week in Vilna,
where we were to be the guests of a Polish nobleman. When she sent the
porter to check our trunks she told him in faultless German to check
them only to Vilna on those tickets. But as her faultless German
generally brings us soap when she orders coffee, and hot water when
she calls for ice, I am not so severe upon the stupidity of the porter
as she is. However, when he came back and asked for fifty-five marks
extra luggage to St. Petersburg we gave a wail, and explained to the
manager, who spoke English, that we were not going to St. Petersburg,
and that we were not particularly eager to pay out fifty-five marks
for the mere fun of spending money. If the choice were left to us we
felt that we could invest it more to our satisfaction in belts and
card-cases.

He was very big and handsome, this German, and doubtless some meek
_fraeulein_ loves him, but we do not, and, moreover, we pity her,
whoever and wherever she may be, for we know by experience that if
they two are ever to be made one he will be that one. He said he was
sorry, but that, doubtless, when we got to the Russian frontier we
could explain matters and get our trunks. But we could not speak
Russian, we told him, and we wanted things properly arranged then and
there. He clicked his heels together and bowed in a superb manner, and
we were sure our eloquence and our distress had fetched him, so to
speak, when to our amazement he simply reiterated his statements.

"But surely you are not going to let two American women leave your
hotel all alone at eleven o'clock at night with their luggage checked
to the wrong town?" I said, in wide-eyed astonishment.

Again he clicked those heels of his. Again that silk hat came off.
Again that superb bow. He was very sorry, but he could do nothing.
Doubtless we could arrange things at the frontier. It was within ten
minutes of train time, and we were surrounded by no fewer than thirty
German men--guests, porters, hall-boys--who listened curiously, and
offered no assistance.

I looked at my companion, and she looked at me, and ground her teeth.

"Then you absolutely r