lept yourself on the wedding-day, I suppose."

"You shall hear, ma'am, the story is a very short one: It is now about
eight years ago, I was rambling through the south of France, and had just
reached Lyons, where the confounded pavement, that sticks up like pears,
with the point upwards, had compelled me to rest some days and recruit;
for this purpose I installed myself in the pension of Madame Gourgead,
Rue de Petits Carmes, a quiet house--where we dined at twelve, ten in
number, upon about two pounds of stewed beef, with garlic and carrots
--a light soup, being the water which accompanied the same to render it
tender in stewing--some preserved cherries, and an omelette, with a pint
bottle of Beaune, 6me qualite, I believe--a species of pyroligneous wine
made from the vine stalks, but pleasant in summer with your salad; then
we played dominos in the evening, or whist for sous points, leading
altogether a very quiet and virtuous existence, or as Madame herself
expressed it, 'une vie tout-a-fait patriarchale;' of this I cannot myself
affirm how far she was right in supposing the patriarchs did exactly like
us. But to proceed, in the same establishment there lived a widow whose
late husband had been a wine merchant at Dijon--he had also, I suppose
from residing in that country, been imitating the patriarchs, for he died
one day. Well, the lady was delayed at Lyons for some law business, and
thus it came about, that her husband's testament and the sharp paving
stones in the streets determined we should be acquainted. I cannot
express to you the delight of my fair countrywoman at finding that a
person who spoke English had arrived at the 'pension'--a feeling I myself
somewhat participated in; for to say truth, I was not at that time a very
great proficient in French. We soon became intimate, in less time
probably than it could otherwise have happened, for from the ignorance of
all the others of one word of English, I was enabled during dinner to say
many soft and tender things, which one does not usually venture on in
company.

"I recounted my travels, and told various adventures of my wanderings,
till at last, from being merely amused, I found that my fair friend began
to be interested in my narratives; and frequently when passing the
bouillon to her, I have seen a tear in the corner of her eye: in a word,
'she loved me for the dangers I had passed,' as Othello says. Well,
laugh away if you like, but it's truth I am t