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Updated: May 6, 2025
To-day I received the letter from my people in Poland you sent me. Tell the portier to give you all the letters addressed to me. My dear friend, As you are so good, be so to the end. Go to the transport commission-office of Mr. Hamberg et Levistal successeurs de Mr. Corstel fils aine et Cie, rue des Marais St.
The utter impossibility of its being Sarah Walker herself, and the glaring fact that the very coincidence of name would be inconsistent with any conventional descent from the original Sarah, I admit confused me. But I examined the book of the Kronprinzen-Hof and the other hotels, and questioned my portier. There was no "Mees" nor "Madame Walkiere" extant in Rolandseck.
The portier dissembled any slight which their eagerness for the only amusement he could think of inspired, and directed them to a popular theatre which was giving a summer season at low prices to the lower classes, and which they surprised, after some search, trying to hide itself in a sort of back square.
The information was of no particular interest, however, except as regarded the persons who dwelt on the floor immediately below us. They were two an old man and a young woman, supposed to be his daughter. They had been living here several years from before the time, indeed, that the portier had occupied his present position.
When we said that we were going to Scheveningen, in the middle of September, the portier of the hotel at The Hague was sure we should be very cold, perhaps because we had suffered so much in his house already; and he was right, for the wind blew with a Dutch tenacity of purpose for a whole week, so that the guests thinly peopling the vast hostelry seemed to rustle through its chilly halls and corridors like so many autumn leaves.
As Cheditafa was known to be in the service of the American lady at the Hotel Grenade, the portier of that establishment was sent for, and having given his testimony to the good character of the two negroes, they were released upon his becoming surety for their appearance when wanted. As for Banker, there was no one to go security. He was committed for trial.
He liked his neighbors and their political system; and so did the portier at the Hôtel Byron, another German, with whom I sometimes talked of general topics in transacting small affairs of carriage hire and the like, and who invited me to notice how perfectly well these singular Swiss, in the midst of a Europe elsewhere overrun with royalties, got on without a king, queen, or anything of the kind.
"No. Nice voice, though. Young." The next moment he was alone. Peter in his dressing-gown was running down the staircase to the lower floor, was shouting to the Portier to unlock the door, was a madman in everything but purpose. The Portier let him out and returned to the bedroom. "The boy above is worse," he said briefly.
At the hotel the portier gave them four letters. "I do believe we could stay all winter, just as well as not," said Mrs. March, proudly. "What does 'Burnamy say?" "How do you know it's from him?" "Because you've been keeping your hand on it! Give it here." "When I've read it." The letter was dated at Ansbach, in Germany, and dealt, except for some messages of affection to Mrs.
A sense of the past imparted itself to the well-known encounter with the portier and the head waiter at the hotel door, to the payment of the driver, to the endeavor of the secretary to have them take the most expensive rooms in the house, and to his compromise upon the next most, where they found themselves in great comfort, with electric lights and bells, and a quick succession of fee-taking call-boys in dress-coats too large for them.
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