ted in palliating or
concealing them, insinuate that his devotions at the table are more sincere
than at the altar and that, like the Giant Margutte in the Morgante
Maggiore of Pulci, he places more faith and reliance on a cappone lesso
ossia arrosto than on the consecrated but less substantial wafer.[2]

After contemplating this edifying spectacle, we returned to our inn, and
the next morning after breakfast we set out on our journey to Bruxelles.
The road is exactly similar to that between Bruges and Gand, but the
country appears to be richer and more diversified, and many country houses
were observable on the road side. We passed thus several neat villages. At
one o'clock we stopped at Alost to refresh our horses and dine. At the
table d'hote were a number of French officers belonging to the Gardes du
Corps. On entering into conversation with one of them, I found that he as
well as several others of them had served under Napoleon, and had even been
patronised and promoted by him; but I suppose that being the sons of the
ancient _noblesse_ they thought that gratitude to a _parvenu_ like him was
rather too plebeian a virtue. Some of them, however, with whom I conversed
after dinner seemed to regret the step they had taken. "If we are
successful," said they, "it can only be by means of the Allied Armies, and
who knows what conditions they may impose on France? If we should be
unsuccessful, we are exiled probably for life from our country." During
dinner, two pretty looking girls with musical instruments entered the hall,
and regaled our ears with singing some romances, among which were _Dunois
le Troubadour_ and _La Sentinelle_. They sang with much taste and feeling.
I surmise this is not the only profession they exercise, if I might judge
from the _doux yeux_ they occasionally directed to some of the officers.
These girls did not at least seem by their demeanour as if likely to incur
the anathema of Rinaldo in the _Orlando Furioso_:

meritamente muoro Una crudele,

but rather more disposed to

dar vita all'amator fidele.[3]

Alost is a neat, clean town or large village, and the same description will
serve for all the towns and villages in Brabant and Flanders, as they are
built on the same plan. We arrived at Bruxelles late in the evening and put
up at the _Hotel d'Angleterre_.

This morning, the General and myself went to pay our respects to the _Gran
Capitano_ of the _Holy League_, and we left our cards. He