time Misery gave another peal at the bell, and, borrowing a
stick, drummed a tattoo upon the door that might have waked the departed
Mediaevals. This at length brought forth fruit.

A latticed window was opened, a white figure appeared, a nightcapped
head was put forth without ceremony, a feminine voice, sleepy and
indignant, demanded who thus disturbed the sacred silence of the night.

"The gentlemen are here," said Andre, mildly. "Come down and open the
door. A pretty reception this, for tired travellers."

"What gentlemen?" asked the voice, which belonged to no less a person
than Madame la bouchere herself.

"Parbleu! why the gentlemen you are expecting. The gentlemen la Patrone
sent to you about and that you agreed to lodge for the night."

"Andre--I know your voice, though I cannot see your form--you have been
taking too much, and to-morrow I shall complain to Madame Hellard. How
dare you wake quiet people out of their first sleep?"

"First sleep! Has la bouchere not been to the theatre?"

"Theatre, you good-for-nothing! Do I ever join in such frivolities? I
have been in bed and asleep ever since ten o'clock--where you ought to
be at this hour of the night."

"But la Patrone sent to engage rooms for these gentlemen and you
promised to give them. They have come. Open the door. We cannot stay
here till daybreak."

"You will stay there till doomsday if it depends on my opening to you.
La Patrone never sent and I never promised. I have only one small empty
bed in my house, and in the other bed in the same room two of my boys
are sleeping. I am very sorry for the gentlemen. My compliments to la
Patrone, and before sending gentlemen to me at midnight, she ought to
find out if I can accommodate them. Good-night to you, and let us have
no more rioting and bell-ringing."

The nightcapped head was withdrawn, the lattice was sharply closed, and
we were left to make the best of the situation.

It was serious: nearly one in the morning, the whole town slumbering,
and we "homeless, ragged, and tanned."

To remain was useless. Not all the ringing and rowing in the world would
bring forth Madame again, though it might possibly produce her avenging
spouse. Andre shouldered his baggage and we began to retrace our steps.

"Back to the hotel," commanded H.C.; "they must put us up somewhere."

"Not a hole or corner unoccupied," groaned Andre. "You can't sleep in
the bread oven. And they will all have gone to bed by the t