I cannot convey any idea of poor Kilkee’s distraction; and, in reality, my own was little short of it; for the wretch had so far out-stripped my orders, that I became horrified at the cruel destruction before me.  We both, therefore, stormed in the most imposing English and French, first separately and then together.  We offered a reward for the apprehension of the culprit, whom no one appeared to know, although, as it happened, every one in a large household was aware of the transaction but the proprietor himself.  We abused all—­innkeeper, waiters, ostlers, and chambermaids, collectively and individually—­condemned Calais as a den of iniquity, and branded all Frenchmen as rogues and vagabonds.  This seemed to alleviate considerably my friend’s grief, and excite my thirst —­fortunately, perhaps for us; for if our eloquence had held out much longer, I am afraid our auditory might have lost their patience; and, indeed, I am quite certain if our French had not been in nearly as disjointed a condition as the spokes of the caleche, such must have been the case.

“Well, Mr. Lorrequer, I suppose, then, we are not destined to be fellow-travellers—­for if you must go to-morrow—­”

“Alas!  It is imperative,” said I.

“Then in any case, let us arrange where we shall meet, for I hope to be in Paris the day after you.”

“I’ll stop at Meurice.”

“Meurice, be it,” said he, “so now good night, till we meet in Paris.”

THE CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER, Vol. 4

[By Charles James Lever (1806-1872)]

Dublin

MDCCCXXXIX.

Volume 4. (Chapter XXIV-XXVIII)

Contents: 

Chapter XXIV
The Gen d’Arme

Chapter XXV
The Inn at Chantraine

Chapter XXVI
Mr O’Leary

Chapter XXVII
Paris

Chapter XXVIII
Paris

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE GEN D’ARME.

I had fortunately sufficient influence upon my fair friends to persuade them to leave Calais early on the morning following; and two hours before Kilkee had opened his eyes upon this mortal life, we were far upon the road to Paris.

Having thus far perfectly succeeded in my plot, my spirit rose rapidly, and I made every exertion to make the road appear short to my fellow-travellers.  This part of France is unfortunately deficient in any interest from scenery; large undivided tracts of waving cornfields, with a back-ground of apparently interminable forests, and occasionally, but rarely, the glimpse of some old time-worn chateau, with its pointed gable and terraced walk, are nearly all that the eye can detect in the intervals between the small towns and villages.  Nothing, however, is “flat or unprofitable” to those who desire to make it otherwise; good health, good spirits, and fine weather, are wonderful travelling companions, and render one tolerably independent of the charms of scenery.  Every mile that separated me from Calais, and took away the chance of being overtaken, added to my gaiety, and I flatter myself that a happier party have rarely travelled that well frequented road.