r to-night. And the sooner you allow us to repose our weary
heads, the more grateful we shall be. It is nearly one o'clock."

Monsieur seemed convinced, and gave the word of command which sent two
or three waiters flying. Poor Andre was one of them; but we soon
discovered that he was the most willing and obliging man in the world.

Even now everything was mismanaged and had to be done over again; a
wordy war ensued between landlord, waiters and chambermaids, each one
having an original idea for our comfort and wanting their own way. The
small Bedlam that went on would have been diverting at any other time.
It was very nearly two o'clock before we closed the door upon the world,
and felt that something like peace and repose lay before us.

The room was not uncomfortable. It had all the stiff luxuriance of a
French salon, and a gilt clock on the mantelpiece ticked loudly and rang
out the hours--too many of which, alas, we heard. On the table were the
remains of a dessert, evidently hastily brought in from the table d'hote
room, which communicated with this by folding doors: dishes of biscuits,
raisins and luscious grapes.

"At least we can refresh ourselves," sighed H.C., taking up a fine bunch
and offering me another, "Nectar in its primitive state; the drink of
the gods."

"And of Poets," I added.

"Talk not of poetry," he cried. "I feel that my vein has evaporated, and
after to-night will never return."

Very soon, you may be sure, the room was in darkness and repose.

"The inequalities of the earth's surface are nothing to my bed," groaned
H.C. as he laid himself down. "It is all hills and valleys. I think they
must have put the mattress upon all the brooms and brushes of the hotel,
crossed by all the fire-irons. And that wretched clock ticks on my brain
like a sledge-hammer. I shall not be alive by morning."

"Have you made your will?"

"Yes," he replied; "and left you my museum, my shooting-box, all my
unpublished MSS. and the care of my aesthetic aunt, Lady Maria. You will
not find her troublesome; she lives on crystallised violets and barley
water."

"Mixed blessings," I thought, but was too polite to say so. It must have
been my last thought, for I remembered no more until the clock awoke me,
striking four; and woke me again, striking six; after which sleep
finally fled.

Soon the town also awoke; doors slammed and echoed; omnibuses and other
vehicles rattled over the stones; voices seemed to fill t