very well done, Antoine, and now for supper--order it yourself for
me--I never can find my way in a German 'carte de diner;' and be sure to
have a fiacre here at nine--nine precisely."

Antoine withdrew, leaving me to my own reflections, which now, if not
gloomy, were still of the most anxious kind.

Scarcely was the supper placed upon the table, when a tremendous tramping
of horses along the street, and loud cracking of whips, announced a new
arrival.

"Here they are," said I, as, springing up, I upset the soup, and nearly
threw the roti into Antoine's face, as he was putting it before me.

Down stairs I rushed, through the hall, pushing aside waiters and
overturning chambermaids in my course. The carriage was already at the
door. Now for a surprise, thought I, as I worked through the crowd in
the porch, and reached the door just as the steps were clattered down,
and a gentleman began to descend, whom twenty expectant voices, now
informed of his identity, welcomed as the new Charge d'Affaires.

"May all the--"

What I wished for his excellency it would not be polite to repeat, nor
most discreet even to remember; but, certes, I mounted the stairs with as
little good will towards the envoy extraordinary as was consistent with
due loyalty.

When once more in my room, I congratulated myself that now at least no
more "false starts" could occur--"the eternal Charge d'Affaires, of whom
I have been hearing since my arrival, cannot come twice--he is here now,
and I hope I'm done with him."

The supper--some greasiness apart--was good--the wine excellent. My
spirits were gradually rising, and I paced my room in that mingled state
of hope and fear, that amid all its anxieties, has such moments of
ecstasy. A new noise without--some rabble in the street; hark, it comes
nearer--I hear the sound of wheels; yes, there go the horses--nearer and
nearer. Ah, it is dying away again--stay--yes, yes--here it is--here
they are. The noise and tumult without now increased every instant--the
heavy trot of six or eight horses shook the very street, and I heard the
round, dull, rumbling sound of a heavy carriage, as it drew up at last at
the door of the inn. Why it was I know not, but this time I could not
stir--my heart beat almost loud enough for me to hear--my temples
throbbed, and then a cold and clammy perspiration came over me, and I
sank into a chair. Fearing that I was about to faint, sick as I was, I
felt angry with myse