"Very much," said I, somewhat surprised at the nature of the interrogatory.
"Perhaps you would wish it altered in some way?" rejoined the lady.
"Non—mille remercimens!" said I—"you are very good to be so interested in my accommodation."
"Those curtains might be better arranged—that sofa replaced with a more elegant one," continued my new superintendant.
"Really," said I, "I am too, too much flattered. Perhaps you would like to have my rooms altogether; if so, make at least no scruple of saying it."
"Oh, no," replied the lady, "I have no objection to your staying here."
"You are too kind," said I, with a low bow.
There was a pause of some moments—I took advantage of it.
"I think, Madame, I have the honour of speaking to—to—to—" "The mistress of the hotel," said the lady, quietly. "I merely called to ask you how you did, and hope you were well accommodated."
"Rather late, considering I have been six weeks in the house," thought I, revolving in my mind various reports I had heard of my present visitor's disposition to gallantry. However, seeing it was all over with me, I resigned myself, with the patience of a martyr, to the fate that I foresaw. I rose, approached her chair, took her hand (very hard and thin it was too), and thanked her with a most affectionate squeeze.