minutes in silence, till the
clergyman, having put off his surplice, passed us with a bow and went
out; and the pew-opener, after pretending to polish the door-handle with
her apron, and otherwise waiting about with an air of fidgety
politeness, dropped a civil curtsey, and begged to remind us that the
chapel must now be closed.

Dalrymple started and shook himself like a water-dog, as if he would so
shake off "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."

"_Rex est qui metuit nihil_!" said he; "but I am a sovereign in bad
circumstances, for all that. Heigho! Care will kill a cat. What shall we
do with ourselves, old fellow, for the rest of the day?"

"I hardly know. Would you like to go into the country?"

"Nothing better. The air perhaps would exorcise some of these
blue-devils."

"What say you to St. Germains? It looks as if it must rain before night;
yet there is the forest and...."

"Excellent! We can do as we like, with nobody to stare at us; and I am
in a horribly uncivilized frame of mind this morning."

With this, we turned once more toward Paris, and, jumping into the first
cab that came by, were driven to the station. It happened that a train
was then about to start; so we were off immediately.

There were no other passengers in the carriage, so Dalrymple infringed
the company's mandate by lighting a cigar, and I, finding him
disinclined for talk, did the same thing, and watched the passing
country. Flat and uninteresting at first, it consisted of a mere sandy
plain, treeless, hedgeless, and imperfectly cultivated with struggling
strips of corn and vegetables. By and by came a line of stunted
pollards, a hamlet, and a little dreary cemetery. Then the landscape
improved. The straight line of the horizon broke into gentle
undulations; the Seine, studded with islets, wound through the
meadow-land at our feet; and a lofty viaduct carried us from height to
height across the eddying river. Then we passed into the close green
shade of a forest, which opened every here and there into long vistas,
yielding glimpses of

"--verdurous glooms, and winding mossy ways."

Through this wood the line continued to run till we reached our
destination. Here our first few steps brought us out upon the Place,
directly facing the old red and black chateau of St. Germain-en-Laye.
Leaving this and the little dull town behind us, we loitered for some
time about the broad walks of the park, and then passed on into the