“Why, your confused manner—your impatience to get on—your hurried questions, all convinced me. In fact, I’d have wagered any thing you were the Englishman.”
“And what, in heaven’s name, does he think me now?” thought I, as I endeavoured to join the laugh so ludicrous a mistake occasioned.
“But we are delaying sadly,” said the courier. “Are you ready?”
“Ready?—ready for what?”
“To go on with me, of course. Don’t you wish to get early to Strasbourg?”
“To be sure I do.”
“Well, then, come along. But, pray, don’t mind your luggage, for my caleche is loaded. Your instruments can come in the diligence.”
“My instruments in the diligence! He’s mad—that’s flat.”
“How they will laugh at Strasbourg at my mistake.”
“That they will,” thought I. “The only doubt is, will you join in the merriment?”