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Updated: June 27, 2025
I expected to have a guide named Henri de Montmorency, or Armand de la Chartreuse, or something that would sound grand in letters to the villagers at home, but to think of a Frenchman by the name of Billfinger! Oh! This is absurd, you know. This will never do. We can't say Billfinger; it is nauseating. Name him over again; what had we better call him? Alexis du Caulaincourt?"
He drew from his pocketbook a snowy little card and passed it to us with a profound bow: A. BILLFINGER, Guide to Paris, France, Germany, Spain, &c., &c. Grande Hotel du Louvre. "Billfinger! Oh, carry me home to die!" That was an "aside" from Dan. The atrocious name grated harshly on my ear, too.
"That's very interesting," I broke in, "but it's hardly enough to keep me there very long. Are there any queer little places " "Any concert-gardens?" asked Bee. "Are the hotels good?" asked his wife. "There is one hotel called Hotel Billfinger, which I'd like to try, because Mark Twain's guide in 'Innocents Abroad' was named Billfinger. Remember?"
I expected to have a guide named Henri de Montmorency, or Armand de la Chartreuse, or something that would sound grand in letters to the villagers at home, but to think of a Frenchman by the name of Billfinger! Oh! This is absurd, you know. This will never do. We can't say Billfinger; it is nauseating. Name him over again; what had we better call him? Alexis du Caulaincourt?"
"Alphonse Henri Gustave de Hauteville," I suggested. "Call him Ferguson," said Dan. That was practical, unromantic good sense. Without debate, we expunged Billfinger as Billfinger, and called him Ferguson. The carriage an open barouche was ready. Ferguson mounted beside the driver, and we whirled away to breakfast. As was proper, Mr. Ferguson stood by to transmit our orders and answer questions.
I am writing this chapter partly for the satisfaction of abusing that accomplished knave Billfinger, and partly to show whosoever shall read this how Americans fare at the hands of the Paris guides and what sort of people Paris guides are. It need not be supposed that we were a stupider or an easier prey than our countrymen generally are, for we were not.
"Alphonse Henri Gustave de Hauteville," I suggested. "Call him Ferguson," said Dan. That was practical, unromantic good sense. Without debate, we expunged Billfinger as Billfinger, and called him Ferguson. The carriage an open barouche was ready. Ferguson mounted beside the driver, and we whirled away to breakfast. As was proper, Mr. Ferguson stood by to transmit our orders and answer questions.
I am writing this chapter partly for the satisfaction of abusing that accomplished knave Billfinger, and partly to show whosoever shall read this how Americans fare at the hands of the Paris guides and what sort of people Paris guides are. It need not be supposed that we were a stupider or an easier prey than our countrymen generally are, for we were not.
We'll borrow the consul's flag; old man Billfinger shall make orations, and we'll have a barbecue on the plaza. "'Fireworks, says I, 'will be scarce; but we'll have all the cartridges in the shops for our guns. I've got two navy sixes I brought from Denver. "'There is one cannon, said the General; 'one big cannon that will go "BOOM!" And three hundred men with rifles to shoot.
I expected to have a guide named Henri de Montmorency, or Armand de la Chartreuse, or something that would sound grand in letters to the villagers at home, but to think of a Frenchman by the name of Billfinger! Oh! This is absurd, you know. This will never do. We can't say Billfinger; it is nauseating. Name him over again; what had we better call him? Alexis du Caulaincourt?"
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