ently habitable it looked as
we drew near. The carriage entry was lighted up, not by intention, but
from the mere superfluity of fire and candle in the house. A rattle of
many dishes came to our ears; we sighted a great field of tablecloth;
the kitchen glowed like a forge and smelt like a garden of things to
eat.

Into this, the inmost shrine and physiological heart of a hostelry, with
all its furnaces in action, and all its dressers charged with viands,
you are now to suppose us making our triumphal entry, a pair of damp
rag-and-bone men, each with a limp india-rubber bag upon his arm. I do
not believe I have a sound view of that kitchen; I saw it through a sort
of glory: but it seemed to me crowded with the snowy caps of cookmen,
who all turned round from their saucepans and looked at us with
surprise. There was no doubt about the landlady, however: there she was,
heading her army, a flushed, angry woman, full of affairs. Her I asked
politely--too politely, thinks the _Cigarette_--if we could have beds:
she surveying us coldly from head to foot.

"You will find beds in the suburb," she remarked. "We are too busy for
the like of you."

If we could make an entrance, change our clothes, and order a bottle of
wine, I felt sure we could put things right; so said I: "If we cannot
sleep, we may at least dine,"--and was for depositing my bag.

What a terrible convulsion of nature was that which followed in the
landlady's face! She made a run at us, and stamped her foot.

"Out with you--out of the door!" she screeched. "_Sortez! sortez! sortez
par la porte!_"

I do not know how it happened, but next moment we were out in the rain
and darkness, and I was cursing before the carriage entry like a
disappointed mendicant. Where were the boating men of Belgium? where the
Judge and his good wines? and where the graces of Origny? Black, black
was the night after the firelit kitchen; but what was that to the
blackness in our heart? This was not the first time that I have been
refused a lodging. Often and often have I planned what I should do if
such a misadventure happened to me again. And nothing is easier to plan.
But to put in execution, with the heart boiling at the indignity? Try
it; try it only once; and tell me what you did.

It is all very fine to talk about tramps and morality. Six hours of
police surveillance (such as I have had), or one brutal rejection from
an inn-door, change your views upon the subject like a cour