“O yes; I have seen him frequently.”
“Well, what kind of a man is he? we should like to know.”
“A man of colossal stature, with a fine, noble, but rather stern and severe aspect. I think I now see him, with his grey cloak, cocked hat, and white waving plumes, striding down the Nefsky Prospect, and towering by a whole head over other people.”
“Bravo! Did you ever see him at the head of his soldiers?”
“O yes! I have seen the Emperor review forty thousand of his chosen troops in the Champs de Mars, and a famous sight it was. There stood the great, proud man looking at his warriors as they manœuvred before him. Two-thirds of them were cavalry, and each horseman was mounted on a beautiful blood charger of Cossack or English breed, and arrayed in a superb uniform. The blaze, glitter and glory were too much for my eyes, and I was frequently obliged to turn them away. The scene upon the whole put me in mind of an immense field of tulips of various dyes, for the colours of the dresses, of the banners and the plumes, were as gorgeous and manifold as the hues of those queenly flowers.”
“Bravo!” said twenty voices; “the gentleman speaks like an areithiwr. Have you been in other countries besides Russia?”
“O yes! I have been in Turkey, the people of which are not Christians, but frequently put Christians to shame by their good faith and honesty. I have been in the land of the Maugrabins, or Moors—a people who live on a savoury dish, called couscousoo, and have the gloomiest faces and the most ferocious hearts under heaven. I have been in Italy, whose people, though the most clever in the world, are the most unhappy, owing to the tyranny of a being called the Pope, who, when I saw him, appeared to be under the influence of strong drink. I have been in Portugal, the people of which supply the whole world with wine, and drink only water themselves. I have been in Spain, a very fine country, the people of which are never so happy as when paying other folks’ reckonings. I have been—but the wind is blowing wildly without, and the rain pelting against the windows;—this is a capital night for a ghost story: shall I tell you a ghost story which I learnt in Spain?”
“Yes, sir, pray do; we all love ghost stories. Do tell us the ghost story of Spain.”
Thereupon I told the company Lope de Vega’s ghost story, which is decidedly the best ghost story in the world.
Long and loud was the applause which followed the conclusion of the grand ghost story of the world, in the midst of which I got up, bade the company good night, and made my exit. Shortly afterwards I desired to be shown to my sleeping apartment. It was a very small room upstairs, in the back part of the house; and I make no doubt was the chamber of the two poor girls, the landlady’s daughters, as I saw various articles of female attire lying about. The spirit of knight-errantry within me was not, however, sufficiently strong to prevent me from taking possession of the female dormitory; so, forthwith divesting myself of every portion of my habiliments, which were steaming like a boiling tea-kettle, I got into bed between the blankets, and in a minute was fast in the arms of Morpheus.