u, broke the lock, and then
began a fearful cursing and swearing. I was perfectly helpless. I
could hardly understand what the French _douaniers_ said, still less
make them understand what I had to say. They had done the damage, but
would do nothing to remedy it. The train would not wait, and I should
certainly have been left behind if the other travellers had not taken
my part, and I was allowed to go on to Paris. I looked a mere boy,
very harmless, not at all the clever smuggler the officials took me to
be. If they had forced the portmanteau open they would have found
nothing but the most essential wearing apparel and a few books and
papers all in Sanskrit.

But my miseries were not yet over, on the contrary, they became much
worse. On my arrival in Paris I got a _fiacre_ and told the man to
drive to 25, Rue St. Honore; _Royale_ I considered of no importance;
but, alas! at the right number of the Rue St. Honore, the _concierge_
stared at me, telling me that no Baron Hagedorn lived there. Try
Faubourg St. Honore, they said, but here the same thing happened. And
all this was on a rainy afternoon, I being tired out with travelling
and fasting, and perfectly overwhelmed by the immensity of Paris. I
knew nobody at Paris, having trusted for all such things to Baron
Hagedorn, in fact I was _au desespoir_. Then as I was driving along
the Boulevard des Italiens, looking out of window, I saw a familiar
figure--a little hunchback whom I had known at Dessau, where he
studied music under Schneider. It was M. Gathy, a man well known by
his musical writings, particularly his _Dictionary of Music_. I
shrieked Gathy! Gathy! and he was as much surprised when he recognized
the little boy from Dessau, as I was when in this vast Paris I
discovered at last a face which I knew. I jumped out of my carriage,
told Gathy all that had happened to me, being all the time between
complete despair and perfect delight. He knew Hagedorn and his rooms
very well. It was the Rue Royale St. Honore. The _concierge_ was quite
prepared for my arrival, and took us both to the rooms which were _au
cinquieme_, but large and extremely well furnished. I was so tired
that I lay down on the sofa, and called out in my best French,
_Donnez-moi quelque chose a manger et a boire_. This was not so easily
done as said, but at last, after toiling up and down five flights of
stairs, he brought me what I wanted; I restored myself in the true
sense of the word, and then beg