ich Terry lavished on that comparatively insignificant
French _douanier_ ought to have earned him a billet as first secretary
to a Legation. He pictured the despair of the ladies if the power of
France kept them prisoners at the frontier; he referred warmly to that
country's reputation for chivalry; he offered to pay the usual deposit
on a car entering France and receive it back again at Fontan. To this
last suggestion the harassed official replied that technically his
office was closed for the night, and that after eight o'clock he could
not receive money or issue papers. Finally, therefore, Terry was reduced
to appealing to the cleverness and resource of a true Frenchman.

It was a neat little fencing-match, which ended in the triumph of Great
Britain. The functionary, treated like a gentleman by a gentleman,
became anxious to accommodate, if he could do so "consistently with
honour." He had an inspiration, and suggested that he would strain his
duty by sending a messenger with us to Fontan, there to explain that we
were merely _en passage_. Out of the crowd which had collected a loutish
youth was chosen; a _pourboire_ promised; and after many mutual
politenesses we were permitted to _teuf-teuf_ onto the sacred soil of
France.

It is no more safe to judge a French country inn by its exterior, than
the soul of Cyrano de Bergerac by his nose. The inn of Breil had not an
engaging face, but it was animated by the spirit of a Brillat Savarin,
by which we were provided with a wonderful dinner in numerous courses.
We could not escape from it, lest we hurt the _amour-propre_ of the
cook, and it was late when we were ready for our last _sortie_.

"You will never reach San Dalmazzo to-night, towing that car," we were
informed by the powers that were in the hotel. "The hills you have
passed are as nothing to the hills yet to come. You will do well to
spend the night with us, for if you try to get on, you will be all night
upon the road."

Our passengers were asked to decide, and we expected a difference of
opinion. We should have said that the two girls would have been for
pushing on, and the Countess for stopping. But that plump lady had
already conquered the tremors which, earlier in the day, had threatened
to wreck our expedition at its outset.

"It's a funny thing," said she, "but I want to go on, just _on_, for the
sake of _going_. I never felt like that before, travelling, not even in
a Mann Boudoir car at home, which