“Be it so.”  We waited patiently; but heard a great deal of parleying within the gates.  I began to think we should be doomed to retrace our course—­when, after a delay of full twenty minutes, we heard ... to our extreme satisfaction ... the creaking of the hinges (but not as “harsh thunder”) of the ponderous portals—­which opened slowly and stubbornly—­and which was succeeded by the clanking of the huge chain, and the letting down of the drawbridge.  This latter rebounded slightly as it reached its level:  and I think I hear, at this moment, the hollow rumbling noise of our horses’ feet, as we passed over the deep yawning fosse below.  Our passports were now demanded.  We surrendered them willingly, on the assurance given of receiving them the following morning.  The gates were now closed behind us, and we entered the town in high glee.  “You are a good fellow,” said I to the gatesman:  come to me at the inn, to-morrow morning, and you shall be thanked in the way you like best.”

The landlord of the inn was not yet a-bed.  As he heard our approach, he called all his myrmidons about him—­and bade us heartily welcome.  He was a good-looking, sleek, jolly-faced man:  civilly spoken, with a ready utterance, which seemed prepared to touch upon all kinds of topics.  After I had bespoken tea and beds, and as the boiling water was getting ready, he began after the following fashion:  “He bien Mons. Le Comte ... comment vont les affaires en Angleterre?  Et votre grand capitaine, le DUC DE VELLINGTON, comment se porte il?  Ma foi, a ce moment, il joue un beau role.”  I answered that “matters were going on very well in England, and that our great Captain was in perfectly good health.”  “Vous le connoissez parfaitement bien, sans doute?”—­was his next remark.  I told him I could not boast of that honour.  “Neanmoins, (added he) il est connu par-tout.”  I readily admitted the truth of this observation.  Our dialogue concluded by an assurance on his part, that we should find our beds excellent, our breakfast on the morrow delicious—­and he would order such a pair of horses (although he strongly recommended four,) to be put to our carriage, as should set all competition at defiance.

His prediction was verified in every particular.  The beds were excellent; the breakfast, consisting of coffee, eggs, fruit, and bread and butter, (very superior to what is usually obtained in France) was delicious; and the horses appeared to be perfect of their kind.  The reckoning was, to be sure, a little severe:  but I considered this as the payment or punishment of having received the title of Count ... without contradiction.  It fell on my ears as mere words of course; but it shall not deceive me a second time.  We started a little time after nine; and on leaving the place I felt more than usual anxiety and curiosity to catch the first glimpse of the top of Strasbourg Cathedral,—­a building, of which I had so long cherished even the