Glories of Spain

by Charles W. Wood

"Yet we cannot do without it. If you send it on to Portbou, we cannot remain behind. Have you the heart to consign us to that chambre de tortures?"

He paused a moment, revolving the momentous situation. "No," he laughed at length, "I cannot do that, and for once will make an exception in your favour. Advienne que pourra, you shall have your luggage."

Then in the kindest way he personally superintended the matter, delayed the train until the luggage was found, and carried out sundry forms necessary for the next day's journey.

We discovered very little in Narbonne to repay our change of plans, but the hotel was comfortable and the energetic landlady a character worth studying. Grass never grew under her feet. She seemed gifted with ubiquity, and startled one by her rapid movements. A capable woman, who made her little world work with a will, wound them up and set them going. If the machinery flagged, she at once applied the master-key of her energy, and the wheels went on again.

To-day she was on her mettle, as she informed us, having a large wedding dinner on hand. "To-night was the diner de contrat, to-morrow the diner de noce. A hundred and fifty people would sit down to it, and she expected great conviviality."

Nor was she disappointed, if the noise we heard later on was any sign of festive enjoyment. Loud laughter, applause, healths pledged, good wishes bestowed—all indicated the state of the assembled guests.

Madame had taken us into the banquet-room to prove that she was capable of decorating her table very effectively. Glass and silver glittered under the rays of light; flowers perfumed the air; orange-trees stood in corners, fruit and flowers mingled their delights. We asked for whom all this extensive preparation.

"The daughter of an innkeeper, with a magnificent dowry, was marrying one of the most popular doctors of the place. But it was really a mariage d'amour, not merely de convenance. Les mariés were both delightful. One hardly knew which to congratulate the most. In short, it was one of those rare events in life when the social sky is without a cloud."

Madame was almost poetical in her enthusiasm. But she was no less practical, and it was wonderful how everything went smoothly under her guidance.

"Narbonne, famous for its honey." We seemed to remember this as one of our geography lines in days gone by. "But where was the honey?" we asked during the course of our own dinner, which madame was quite equal to in spite of the greater ceremony on hand.