“YOUR HOTEL IS A SWINDLE, SIR!”
One of the most amusing things connected with the hotels is the final talk that ensues when the traveler has paid his bill, and is buttoning up his coat for departure.
“Your hotel is a swindle, sir, and I will never darken its doors again. I will take especial pains to inform my friends, sir. This bill is an outrage, sir, an outrage! and my friends shall know of it!”
“Oui, Monsieur,” says the landlord, bowing gracefully and grimacing as expressively as a monkey.
THE IRATE GUEST.
The plundered guest tells everybody not to go to the National, but by all means go to the Beau Rivage, not knowing, poor soul, that the very minute he was abusing, justly abusing, the proprietor of the National, another man just like him was abusing the proprietor of the Beau Rivage, and that, while he is sending guests to the Beau Rivage, the swindled Beau Rivager is sending his friends to the National.
“Ze zentleman ees offend,” smirkingly remarked the landlord of the National, after one of these scenes; “vera goot. He sents all hees frients to ze Beau Rivage. The proprietor of ze Beau Rivage ees my frère—vat yoo call ’im, eh?—bruzzer. Ve ees in partnersheep.”