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Updated: May 6, 2025
One Sunday afternoon Sister G. and I, being free, betook ourselves to tea at the Hotel d'Europe that well-named hostelry which has probably seen more history made from its windows than any other hotel in Europe. We favoured it always on Sunday when we could, for not only was a particularly nice tea to be had, but one could also read there a not too old French newspaper.
No one ever visits Morlaix at the time of the fair unless he comes to buy or sell horses." Having come neither to buy nor sell horses, we felt crushed, and hoped for the deluge. I proposed to re-enter the train and let it take us whither it would it mattered not. H.C. calmly suggested suicide. "What is to be done?" he groaned. "The man refuses to take us to the Hôtel d'Europe.
I never think that a woman can be anything but pretty or hideous. There is no middle, and no suspicion about them. Baroness B. is pretty. And if she likes to talk like a Pythia, that's her way of making people interested in her. Maroossia complained of a headache, so we left early. Baroness is in the Hotel d'Europe she is so sorry that "her Astoria" became such a hole. Well not only her Astoria.
Turning into Chowringhee we are faced by the Bristol Hotel, formerly known as the Hotel D'Europe, the proprietress of which latter was the late Mrs. Scott of the Park Hotel, Darjeeling, formerly known as Madame Fienberg, and who was highly respected and greatly esteemed by the older generation of Calcuttaites, of whom she had quite a large clientele.
I walked till I was out of all patience, and very hot and thirsty. At last, somewhere after one o'clock, I came unexpectedly to one of the city gates. I knew then that I was very far from the hotel. The soldiers thought I wanted to leave the city, and they sprang up and barred the way with their muskets. I said: "Hotel d'Europe!"
One ought, indeed, to turn away from her rags, her poverty and her humiliation, and think of her only as she was when she sunk the fleets of Charlemagne; when she humbled Frederick Barbarossa or waved her victorious banners above the battlements of Constantinople. We reached Venice at eight in the evening, and entered a hearse belonging to the Grand Hotel d'Europe.
George next proceeded to an obscure part of the town, and stopping at a small but respectable looking tavern, he engaged a room for the next day, also a carriage, with an English-speaking driver, to be in readiness at 3 o'clock the next morning. Promptly at the hour he was at the livery stable, where he found the carriage ready, and was driven to the Hotel d'Europe.
I continued to say Hotel d'Europe, and they continued to shake their heads, until at last a young soldier nodding in the corner roused up and said something. He said he knew where the hotel was, I suppose, for the officer of the guard sent him away with me. We walked a hundred or a hundred and fifty miles, it appeared to me, and then he got lost.
I walked till I was out of all patience, and very hot and thirsty. At last, somewhere after one o'clock, I came unexpectedly to one of the city gates. I knew then that I was very far from the hotel. The soldiers thought I wanted to leave the city, and they sprang up and barred the way with their muskets. I said: "Hotel d'Europe!"
The enraged driver was having his revenge upon us, and we repented our boldness in trusting our lives in his hands. But the sturdy Bretons accepted the situation so calmly that we felt there must still be a chance of escape. So it proved. In due time it drew up at the Hôtel d'Europe with the noise of an artillery waggon, and out came M. Hellard, the landlord.
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