At five o'clock I found myself installed near the head of an immensely
long dinner-table in the _salle a manger_ of the Cheval Blanc. The
_salle a manger_ was a magnificent temple radiant with mirrors, and
lustres, and panels painted in fresco. The dinner was an imposing rite,
served with solemn ceremonies by ministering waiters. There were about
thirty guests seated round, in august silence, most of them very smartly
dressed, and nearly all English. A stout gentleman, with a little knob
on the top of his bald head, a buff waistcoat, and a shirt amply
frilled, sat opposite to me, flanked on either side by an elderly
daughter in green silk. On my left I was supported by a thin young
gentleman with fair hair, and blue glasses. To my right stood a vacant
chair, the occupant of which had not yet arrived; and at the head of the
table sat a spare pale man dressed all in black, who spoke to no one,
kept his eyes fixed upon his plate, and was served by the waiters with
especial servility. The soup came and went in profound silence. Faint
whispers passed to and fro with the fish. It was not till the roast made
its appearance that anything like conversation broke the sacred silence
of the meal. At this point the owner of the vacant chair arrived, and
took his place beside me. I recognised him immediately. It was the
Englishman whom I had met in the Cathedral. We bowed, and presently he
spoke to me. In the meantime, he had every forgone item of the dinner
served to him as exactly as if he had not been late at table, and sipped
his soup with perfect deliberation while others were busy with the
sweets. Our conversation began, of course, with the weather and
the place.

"Your first visit to Rouen, I suppose?" said he. "Beautiful old city, is
it not? _Garcon_, a pint of Bordeaux-Leoville."

I modestly admitted that it was not only my first visit to Rouen, but my
first to the Continent.

"Ah, you may go farther than Rouen, and fare worse," said he. "Do you
sketch? No? That's a pity, for it's deliciously picturesque--though,
for my own part, I am not enthusiastic about gutters and gables, and I
object to a population composed exclusively of old women. I'm glad, by
the way, that I preserved you from wasting your time among the atrocious
lumber of that so-called treasury."

"The treasury!" exclaimed my slim neighbor with the blue glasses. "Beg
your p--p--pardon, sir, but are you speaking of the Cathedral treasury?
Is it worth v--v--