“I should like to go to bed,” said I, in the language of our country.
“We cannot send them away,” said J——.
—And so, making the best of the matter, we sat down with them, and talked about travelling and Italy and snoring and velocipedes and Mount Vesuvius, and, I think, of some other things which I have forgotten.—Monsieur and Madame, who had voyaged much, also urged a journey to Touraine to see the castles.——
“Bother the castles,” thought I to myself.
“Hang ’em,” said J—— audibly, but in American.
—But the landlady, just then coming in, asked if we should like to see our room.——
“It is here,” said we.
“It is on the other side of the hall,” said the landlady, and she led the way without more ado. “See the two little iron beds,” she cried on the threshold, “and the tiny toilet table! ’Tis like a prison cell;” and nothing would please her but she must bring Monsieur and Madame and her husband and daughter to look.
—In the morning, in her bill, however, it was no longer a prison cell, but a best bedchamber. But if a Good Samaritan does overcharge you, what can you do?