Photo by F. Berkeley Smith
A FAMOUS INN
I tried the top line and waited; nothing happened. Then I pushed twice for the femme de chambre, but no white-capped Marie came tripping down the Brussels-carpeted hall to knock gently at my door. Then I pushed vigorously three times for the garçon. He had refused the job, I afterwards learned, and was at his home in Touraine. At the end of twenty minutes a boy carrying a gilt tête-à-tête chair to the room above heard my cries.
“Candles, you imbecile!” I shouted; “don’t you see it is dark here?”
He stared at me stupidly for a moment and exclaimed:
“Ah! si, si! les bougies!” and went clattering down the stairs.
In ten minutes he returned.
“Did you find any?” I roared.
“Oui, oui! monsieur, parfaitement! Two, but the cook is using them.”