The Argosy — page 249: what you’re looking at

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

230 Far Normandy. hard pressure that realisation and conviction would come to him, and with it the willingness to lay it aside. But to-night we, too, like the happy waiter, were soon in the land of dreams; a world peopled by memory and imagination in which we wander as we are led, through amaranthine groves, and repose beside still waters, and where soft green pastures yield to our tread. For happiness is known to none in their waking hours; but we are all sometimes perfectly blest when wandering in the realms of sleep. The next morning we rose betimes. H. C.’s voice sounded quite a long way off—the room was so large—when he awoke and made the usual English morning inquiry. His bed was under the window, and he was aroused by the noises which are seldom absent from an hotel courtyard, whether the scene be laid in England or abroad. These noises have been handed down from remote ages, and so may be historically interesting ; from every other point of view they are disturbing. It was not our only disturbing element this morning. As usual in French houses, there was a door communicating with the next room, and the next room was occupied. Occupied by two ladies, who talked in loud voices, and seemed to be desperately quarrelling. In vain we coughed, hemmed and hawed, to give token of our juxta- position ; they were as indifferent to us as if we had been deaf and dumb. One of them seemed hysterical; laughed, cried, groaned, implored and raved by turns; until we put her down as a lunatic. It was again a contrast from the domestic picture we had been privi- leged to assist at last night. From this strange domestic atmosphere we escaped at the very first opportunity, and made our way through the corridors, from which all ghostly element had departed, and down the winding stair- case. As the dining-room was now open, we did not intrude into the sacred precincts of the kitchen. The vision of the cook at his own door, clothed in white cap and apron, was sufficient guarantee that all was well. He must have won at écarté last night, for he beamed upon us, and the mutton cutlets that we ordered @ la Pompadour, and the omelette az nature/, were done toa turn and served to the moment; whilst in the coffee there was not one trace of chicory. ‘ Admirable!” cried H. C., who always managed to take the lion’s share of two portions: whilst of a dish of three, only one in- variably fell to my lot. Though his name was not Benjamin, he evidently regarded me as Joseph. This morning everything and everyone had brightened, though the waiters still looked as if their heads had been electrified. But they moved, if anything, in too lively a manner, and we breakfasted in a sort of atmospherical and moral whirlwind ; for they left all doors and windows open, and rushed up and down the room and to and fro as if the electricity in their heads had also descended to their limbs. Gomicbooks.co (a)