"The next day I started off, with my box of patterns of lace and blond. What a capital idea it was, my making a pretence to carry a box, and call myself a lace-dealer come to exhibit the last new fashions in such articles, wasn't it, M. Charles? and Lord knows how many times you and I have found it serviceable in our plans to gain admittance to a house, or steal five minutes' conversation with some sweet lady. Ah, I remember——"
"Never mind what you remember, go on."
"Well; this time I went quite boldly up to the principal entrance and knocked at the great gates; a door was instantly opened, and, you may believe me or not, M. Charles, just as you like, when I say, that, although I am no coward, I felt a kind of fearful pit-a-patting of my heart, that sounded almost like the ticking of a clock. As I heard it shut again behind me, I found myself standing within the court-yard."
"But, why should you have felt afraid?"
"The court was small, flagged, and surrounded with high, gloomy-looking buildings. I am quite sure the sun never yet contrived to make it look bright with one of his beams,—no, not for an instant; it had just the dull air of a cloister. At the bottom of the court was an immense portico, so deep as to be quite dark within; still I could distinctly make out, by reason of the whiteness of the stone itself, the balustrades of a vast horse-shoe staircase, which ascended outside up to the first story of the Hôtel;—the portico went all round the house."
"It must be a perfect palace!"
"A palace if you like; but such a dreary, gloomy one, that I should much rather dwell in a church-yard than take up my abode there. An old one-eyed porter, who had admitted me, kept me from going any farther, staring at me all the while as though he meant to eat me. 'What do you want?' said he at last. 'This is the Hôtel Lambert, is it not?' answered I. 'Yes,' says he, 'it is.' 'And I believe the Princess de Hansfeld lives here?' 'Well,' says Old Grumps, 'suppose she does.' 'Why, then,' replied I, 'I have come to shew her the laces selected yesterday by a very dark young lady who came to my shop about four o'clock in the day.' As the mulatto had been known to go out about that time, my tale appeared very probable, and the Cerberus let me pass on; but, scarcely had I taken half-a-dozen steps, than I heard some one whistling behind me, for all the world like a set of banditti, or cavern full of robbers, such as we see in a play. It was the porter himself, whistling to let the other folks know I was coming."
"I remember now having heard, that there are still some houses in France where that sort of custom prevails."
"It's a very odd one, however; and, naturally enough, surprised and rather frightened me, who had never dreamed of such ways. Well, up-stairs I went, till I reached the first floor, where I found a tall, conceited-looking jackanapes, dressed like a chasseur; his face half smothered with his huge moustache, while he tried to utter some sort of gibberish, I dare say he thought was French, to inquire again where I came from, and whom I wanted. I told him, very smilingly, that I had some lace for the princess; he then, very civilly, begged me to wait in an anteroom, as high as a house and supported with stone pillars; it sounded almost like going into a vast cathedral, and one's very footsteps echoed so hollow. I can tell you it gave me quite a chill; I felt, for all the world, as though something dreadful was going to happen to me. Well, after keeping me waiting for about five minutes, the same stuck-up, dandyfied fellow came back, and informed me his lady had not ordered any lace to be sent to her; after which he very significantly pointed to the door. I quickly replied, that it must have been the young mulatto girl who required them, since she it was who came to my magazine. 'You mean Mademoiselle Iris, I suppose,' said the laced dandy, 'she who is a sort of companion to the princess.' 'The very name,' said I, 'of the young person who bade me call. I had forgotten it; but now I hear it again, I have no hesitation in saying it was Mademoiselle Iris who ordered me to be here with my laces.' Away went the chasseur, grumbling at the fresh trouble, to repeat what I had said to Mademoiselle Iris. You perceive, I had already picked up two very useful pieces of intelligence,—one, that the tawny Moor was the princess's companion; and, secondly, that her name was Iris."
"What a singular name!"