The Argosy — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

66 This Year at Dieppe. Beer Dec. 2, 1867. five in her arms, wanted to get inside. There ensued a pitched battle of tongues between the conducteur and some of the inside passengers, more particularly those from Tréport. The conducteur favoured the application : we could sit close, he said. The two ladies were against it: Were we not already full to crowding P—and hot ?—and dusty P— and everything? “Keep you quiet, mesdames,” cried he to them ; “T was not obliged to take you up at all, you know. This good lady requires to gain Dieppe.” The good lady spoke up for herself : ‘‘Pardon me, a thousand times, messieurs et dames? This little girl must be at Dieppe to-night, otherwise I would not think of incom- moding you. Pray let mein!” And she came in; we “ sitting close :” which we had been doing all along. On again, in the night dust, with much noise between the dnver and his horses; for we were behind time,, and trains have not the habit of waiting for people. Dieppe was entered at last. Leaving part of our load at the station, the diligence floundered on over the stones, and drew up at its destination on the Quai Henri Quatre. I ran into the hotel, to Madame’s bureau, and there saw Madame comfortably nod- ding, after her bustling day, and somebody in spectacles beside her at the desk. Madame woke up with a start, and gazed at me with eyes that had no recognition in them. ‘I know I’m nothing but a mass of white dust—I know how much I am changed; but surely, Madame G , you have not forgotten me?” ‘Eh, mon Dieu!” retorted Madame, “but what brings you in ‘Zaft mourming ?” And I told her what. “I've not a chamber—I’ve not a single chamber to give you,” cried Madame, lifting her hands in perplexity. ‘ Dieppe is crowded from gate to gate. Why did you not wnte? Madame D , my clerk and amanuensis,” she continued, with native politeness, introducing the lady in spectacles, who never ceased to stare through them, with wide-open eyes, during the colloquy. Madame shrieked out for Rosalie, the head- chambermaid, who came forward, and knew me at once. “There's not a single room, is there?” asked Madame, in despair. ‘‘ But yes, there was a trés belle chambre vacant since the afternoon,” answered Rosalie. True, it was au quatritme; but perhaps Madame, the visitor, would kindly not mind that for a night or two. “But,” shrieked Madame (she could, perhaps, speak quietly if she tried; I never heard her do it), “there’s also needed a chamber for the young Monsieur ; he’s still at the diligence, getting the luggage.” Well, equably returned Rosalie, there was a trés bonne petite chambre de garcon in the roof : he should have a better one after Dimanche. The chamber, as old Rosalie said, was very good when once you got to it; but Jt was no end of a climb. ‘You shall both be moved after Dimanche, madame,” she repeated ; ‘‘I’ll see to that.” “ But, Rosalie, why after Dimanche ?” came the natural question. ‘Does Madame not know that this is Fnday night, and that after to-morrow comicaocks (GO)