Everybody
is brisk; and as we finish breakfast, the horses come jingling into
the yard from the Post-house. Everything taken out of the carriage
is put back again. The brave Courier announces that all is ready,
after walking into every room, and looking all round it, to be
certain that nothing is left behind. Everybody gets in. Everybody
connected with the Hotel de l'Ecu d'Or is again enchanted. The
brave Courier runs into the house for a parcel containing cold
fowl, sliced ham, bread, and biscuits, for lunch; hands it into the
coach; and runs back again.
What has he got in his hand now? More cucumbers? No. A long
strip of paper. It's the bill.
The brave Courier has two belts on, this morning: one supporting
the purse: another, a mighty good sort of leathern bottle, filled
to the throat with the best light Bordeaux wine in the house. He
never pays the bill till this bottle is full. Then he disputes it.
He disputes it now, violently. He is still the landlord's brother,
but by another father or mother. He is not so nearly related to
him as he was last night. The landlord scratches his head.
Pages:
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28