“I can do all that myself sooner than he can; and, as I must wait till it be done, I may as well do it myself.”
“Yes, so you may, but then the security; every thing locked up, which, in a strange hotel, is so necessary.”
I lock my own room, and know where to find the key when I come in.
“Very likely; but still it is impossible to travel comfortably without a valet.”
“Quite impossible,” rejoined W—.
“Be it so,” replied I; “we differ in opinion. All I can say is, that necessary as a valet is when stationary, he is a nuisance when you travel en garçon.”
The conversation dropped, and we sat down to dinner; the time passed away, as it always does, when old friends, who respect and like each other, meet, after an absence of some months. After dinner we smoked cigars; and, as the evening advanced, there were none left on the table. B— rang the bell for his servant to procure others; the servant had gone out and was no where to be found, and for security had locked the bed-room door and taken the key with him. So we drank our claret, and waited for his return. “Thinks I to myself”—but I said nothing. At last, we waited till past twelve o’clock; but the gentleman’s gentleman was no where to be found. B— was angry with the man, W— had thrown himself on the sofa. He wished to go to bed after a long day’s travel; but his key was also, for security, in the valet’s pocket, who had been searched for every where without success. B— begged me not to remain out of politeness; but I did remain not out of politeness, but of “malice,” as the French term it. “I had too much pleasure in their company to think of leaving them;” and we continued to sip brandy-and-water. At last, three o’clock came, B— was out of all patience, W— snoring on the sofa, and I, quite delighted. The sun should have poured his beams upon us before I would have gone away. The bell was rung, but in vain, for the waiters would wait no longer. It was proposed to send for a menuisier to pick the lock; but how was one to be found at three o’clock in the morning? At last the valet, drunk and reeling in his morning jacket, entered the room. “The keys the keys!” demanded B— in wrath.
“The key!” roared W—, who had woke up.
“I have them,” replied the valet, with a most knowing leer, facetiously smiling. “I have them—all safe—all right, gentlemen. Here they are,” continued the man, pulling them out, and presenting them as if he had done a very clever thing. “Here they are, you see.”
The man was too tipsy to be expostulated with, and the gentlemen took their keys in silence. “And now,” said I, “gentlemen, I wish you a very good night. You have fully established the extreme comfort of a travelling valet, and the impossibility of doing without one.” It was a glorious victory, although to get out of the house I had to open a window and leap from it, and to get into my own house at that hour was even more difficult.