British Lion.
I go down in the extraordinaires. I 'm on what is called a special
service. 'Keep an account of your expenses, Paynter!' Confound his
insolence, he would say 'Paynter.' By the way, I have never looked how
he calls me in my passport. I 'm curious to see if I be Paynter there."
I had left the bag containing this and my money in my room, and I rang
the bell, and told the waiter to fetch it.

The passport set forth in due terms all the dignities, honors, and
decorations of the great man who granted it, and who bespoke for the
little man who travelled by it all aid and assistance possible, and to
let him pass freely, &c. "Mr. Ponto,--British subject." "Ponto,
What an outrage! This comes of a man making his _maitre d'hotel_ his
secretary. That stupid French flunkey has converted me into a water-dog.
This may explain a good deal of the old lady's rudeness; how could she
be expected to be even ordinarily civil to a man called Ponto? She 'd
say at once, 'His father was an Italian, and, of course, a courier, or a
valet; or he was a foundling, and called after a favorite spaniel.' Ill
rectify this without loss of time. If she has not the tact to discover
the man of education and breeding by the qualities he displays in
intercourse, she shall be brought to admit them by the demands of his
self-respect."

I opened my writing-desk and wrote just two lines,--a polite request for
a few moments of interview, signed "A. S. Pottinger." I wrote the name
in a fine text hand, as though to say, "No more blunders, madam, this is
large as print."

"Take this to your mistress, Francois," said I to the courier.

"Gone to bed, sir."

"Gone to bed! why, it's only eight o'clock."

A shrug and a smile were all he replied.

"And Miss Herbert,--can I speak to _her?_"

"Fear not, sir; she went to her room, and told Clementina not to disturb
her."

"It is of consequence, however, that I should see her. I want to make
arrangements for to-morrow,--the hour we are to start--"

"Oh! but we are to stop here over to-morrow; I thought monsieur knew
that," said the fellow, with the insolent grin of a menial at knowing
more than his betters.

"Oh, to be sure we are," said I, laughingly, and affecting to have
suddenly remembered it. "I forgot all about it, Francois; you are quite
right. Take a glass of wine, Francois,--or take the bottle with you,
that's better." And I handed him a flask of Hocheimer of eight florins,
right glad to ge