AT the HÔtel de la Poste a middle-aged fille-de-chambre, in a white cap—another Alpine-bearish Burgundian—looked upon us with such disfavour we could scarce persuade her to show us our room.

The dining-room was full of noisy men in blouses and big hats. No place was left for us at the long table, that stretched the entire length of the room; and we sat together in a corner.—The dinner was excellent. But the enemy in white cap was down upon us in a minute, and gave us no peace. She raised a window upon our backs, and as often as we shut it was at our side to open it again. We had the worst of it, for with the salad we seized our wine and napkins and retreated to the opposite corner, giving up our table to four men, who took off their blouses and coats—but not their hats—for their greater comfort, as they sat down and themselves opened the window. What would have been pneumonia, or colds in the heads for us, was health for them.

But there was no rest for us at Rives.—We went to bed early, but until late at night men in heavy boots tramped up and down the narrow carpetless hall outside our door, and in and out the room overhead. They began again at four o’clock in the morning.—As there was no more sleep to be had,——

“We might as well make an early start,” said J——, and we were downstairs by six.

—When we had had our coffee I returned to our room to pack the bag, and J—— went to the stable to get the tricycle. Presently he came up and joined me.—I had not expected him so soon, and was not quite ready.——

“Something has happened,” said I as soon as I looked at him, but still folding flannels.

“We cannot go on,” said he.

“Why?” cried I, jumping up and dropping the flannels.

“I’ll tell you,” said he; “because”——