On the morrow, the mysterious and amiable M. ——­ was with me betimes.  He said he had brought a basket of books, from his hermitage, which he had left at a friend’s house, and he entreated me to come and examine them.  In the mean while, I had had not only a peep at the Tapestry, but an introduction to the mayor, who is chief magistrate for life:  a very Caesar in miniature.  He received me stiffly, and appeared at first rather a priggish sort of a gentleman; observing that “my countryman, Mr. STOTHARD,[143] had been already there for six months, upon the same errand, and what could I want further?” A short reply served to convince him “that it would be no abuse of an extended indulgence if he would allow another English artist to make a fac-simile of a different description, from a very small portion only."[144]

I now called upon the Abbe Fetit, with a view to gain admission to the Chapter Library, but he was from home—­dining with the Bishop.  In consequence, I went to the palace, and wrote a note in pencil to the Bishop at the porter’s lodge, mentioning the name of M. Lair, and the object of my visit.  The porter observed that they had just sat down to dinner—­but would I call at three?  It seemed an age to that hour; but at length three o’clock came, and I was punctual to the minute.  I was immediately admitted into the premises, and even the large mastiff seemed to know that I was not an unexpected visitor—­for he neither growled, nor betrayed any symptoms of uneasiness.  In my way to the audience chamber I saw the crosier and robes which the Bishop had worn the preceding day, at the ceremony of ordination, lying picturesquely upon the table.  The audience chamber was rather elegant, adorned with Gobeleins tapestry, quite fresh, and tolerably expressive:  and while my eyes were fastened upon two figures enacting the parts of an Arcadian shepherd and shepherdess, a servant came in and announced the approach of MONSEIGNEUR l’EVEQUE.  I rose in a trice to meet him, between doubt and apprehension as to the result.  The Bishop entered with a sort of body-guard; being surrounded by six or seven canons who had been dining with him, and who peeped at me over his shoulder in a very significant manner.  The flush of good cheer was visible in their countenances—­but for their Diocesan, I must say that he is even more interesting on a familiar view.  He wore a close purple dress, buttoned down the middle from top to bottom.  A cross hung upon his breast.  His countenance had lost nothing of its expression by the absence of the mitre, and he was gracious even to loquacity.  I am willing to hope that I was equally prudent and brief in the specification of the object I had in view.  My request was as promptly as it was courteously granted.  “You will excuse my attending you in person; (said the Bishop) but I will instantly send for the Abbe Fetit, who is our librarian; and who will have nothing to do but to wait upon you, and facilitate your researches.”  He then dispatched a messenger for the Abbe Fetit, who quickly arrived with two more trotting after him—­and enlivened by the jingling music of the library keys, which were dangling from the Abbe’s fingers, I quickened my steps towards the Chapter Library.