Pickwick Abroad; or, The Tour in France — page 107: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

94 PICKWICK ABROAD. of stairs, and rushed into the street for the purpose of alarming the police. The wicket of the porte cochere was closed violently behind him,—and there stood Tracy Tupman, alone, without his hat, menus his watch and athousand francs—in a deserted street, at about half- past one o'clock wn the morning. But he had no time for reflection—Anastasie was in danger-—Anas- tasie was left with a set of drunken brawlers—Anastasie was his only care. Frantically did Mr. Tupman run up the street in the direction of the Rue de la Paix—vociferously did he call ‘‘ Police! Police !’— the echoes alone answered his appeal. At length he arrived in the street above mentioned, and there his cries alarmed the sentry at the guard-house opposite the Royal Stamp-Office. Mr. Tupman was ac- cordingly accosted by that functionary, who in vam endeavoured to ascertain the meaning of the unfortunate Englishman's signs and say- ings, and who came to the very natural conclusion that the gentleman was drunk. Mr. Tupman stamped and swore; the soldier shrugged his shoulders, smiled, muttered a terrible oath, and resumed his walk up and down in front of the guard-house. What was to be done? the wretched Tracy Tupman saw that re- monstrance and clamour were useless, and bethought himself that if he could only manage to get as faras Meurice’s hotel, he might there explain his difficulties, and procure assistance to return with him and rescue Anastasie from the violence of the drunken rioters. He accord- ingly approached the sentinel, ejaculated the words, ‘* Hotel Meurice,”’ several times, and eventually succeeded in making himself understood. The sentry accordingly summoned another soldier from the guard- house, and, under this convoy, Mr. Tupman was conducted to the Rue de Létvolt, and to Meurice’s hotel. With all the fervour of gra- titude did he extract from his waistcoat pocket a five-franc piece, which he tendered to the good-natured soldier, who thus had served him as guide and protection in his misfortunes. But the soldier drew back with an air of offended dignity, muttered something about a ‘‘m7- litaire Francais,” and “UVhonneur de lajeune France,” and hav- ing bowed politely, hastily retraced his steps to the guard-house. Now it happened that a post-chaise had arrived at Meurice’s hotel only a quarter of an hour previous to Mr. Tupman’s return, and there were lights in the office still. hither did Mr. Tupman forthwith re- pair, and there, to his joy, did he find the attentive M. Cailliez seated at his desk. To him was the narrative of his woes immediately un- folded; but the Frenchman, instead of sympathizing with the unfor- tunate Tracy Tupman, and without proffering his aid in the service of Mademoiselle Anastasie de Volage, bestowed meet comfort and conso- lation in the following terms :— : “© My dear Sir,” said M. Cailliez, with an ill-suppressed smile, ‘* you have fallen in with a set of swindlers and cheats, who, taking advan- tage of your inexperience in Paris, have successfully made you their dupe. By this time, they have all decamped from the apartments which they probably only retained till fortune should throw a victim in their way. Repining is useless, Sir,—and, even if you did make known your loss to the police, the thing would get mto the papers—and— excuse me, Sir—all your friends will laugh at you.” Mr, ‘Tupman uttered not a syllable. His countenance assumed an Eomichbooks:.co =)