and an inspiration, "ma bouchere! Mon cher, ma bouchere!" (Voice,
exclamation, gesture, general inspiration, the whole essence would
evaporate if translated.) "Ma bouchere has two charming rooms that she
will be delighted to give me. It is only a cat's jump from here," she
added, turning to us; "you will be perfectly comfortable, and can take
your meals in the hotel. To-morrow I shall have rooms for you."

So the luggage was brought down; the landlord went through a passage at
arms with the driver, who demanded double fare, and finally went off
with nothing but a promise of punishment. We had triumphed, and thought
our troubles were over: they had only begun.

Our remaining earthly desire was for strong tea, followed by repose. We
had had very little sleep the previous night on board the boat, and the
day had been long and tiring.

"The tea immediately; but you will have to wait a little for the rooms,"
said Madame. "My bouchere is at the theatre to-night; we must all have a
little distraction sometimes; it will be over a short quarter of an
hour, and then I will send to her."

Madame was evidently a woman of capacity. The short quarter of an hour
might be profitably spent in consuming the tea: after that--a delicious
prospect of rest, for which we longed as the Peri longed for Paradise.

"Meanwhile, perhaps messieurs will walk into the cafe of the hotel,
awaiting their rooms," said the landlord.

"Where tea shall be served," concluded Madame, giving directions to a
waiter who stood by, a perfect Image of Misery, his face tied up after
the fashion of the French nation suffering from toothache and a
_fluxion_.

"But the fire is out in the kitchen," objected Misery, in the spirit of
Pierrot's friend.

"Then let it be re-lighted," commanded Madame. "At such times as these,
the fire has not the right to be out."

Monsieur marshalled us into the cafe, a large long room forming part of
the hotel; by no means the best waiting-place after a long and tiring
day. It was hot, blazing with gas, clouded with smoke--the usual French
smoke, worse than the worst of English tobacco. The room was crowded,
the noise pandemonium. Card playing occupied some tables, dominoes
others. The company was very much what might be expected at a Horse
Fair: loud, familiar, slightly inclined to be quarrelsome; no nerves.
Our host joined a card table, evidently taking up his game where our
arrival had interrupted it. He soon became absorbed