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These latter seize you as you descend from your place, twenty cards are thrust into your hand, and as many voices, jabbering with inconceivable swiftness, shriek into your ear, "Dis way, sare; are you for ze' 'Otel of Rhin? 'Hotel de l'Amiraute! 'Hotel Bristol, sare! Monsieur, 'l'Hotel de Lille? Sacr-rrre 'nom de Dieu, laissez passer ce petit, monsieur! Ow mosh loggish ave you, sare?"
Finally, being advised on all hands to go to the Hotel du Rhin, we were carried thither in an omnibus, rattling over a rough pavement, through an invisible and frozen town; and, on our arrival, were ushered into a handsome salon, as chill as a tomb.
Politeness involved the exchange of a few sentences, although a secret antagonism between the two men had revealed itself from the first day of their meeting in Lady Henry's drawing-room. Each word of their short conversation rang clearly through Delafield's memory. "You are at the 'Rhin'?" said Warkworth. "Yes, for a couple more days. Shall we meet at the Embassy to-morrow?" "No.
It was not much of a cellar. A direct hit on the Hotel du Rhin would make a nasty mess in this vaulted room and end a game of cards. After fifteen minutes I became restless, and decided that the room upstairs, after all, was infinitely preferable to this damp cellar and these hard stones. I returned to it and lay down on the bed again and switched off the light.
When the two friends had reached their last thousand-franc note, they took places in the mail-coach, styled Royal, and departed for Paris, where they installed themselves in the attics of the Hotel du Rhin, in the Rue du Mail, the property of one Graff, formerly Gideon Brunner's head-waiter.
He had just had time to send off a messenger, first to his friend at the Café Gaillard, and then to the Hôtel du Rhin, before escorting her to the sleeping-car. Ah, how piteous had been that dull bewilderment with which she had turned to him! "But my ticket?" "Here they are. Oh, never mind we will settle in town. Try to sleep. You must be very tired."
That was good fortune, seeing that the bulk of his money, with his return ticket, was reposing in his dressing-case at the Hôtel du Rhin. "En voiture! En voiture, s'il vous plaît!" He settled himself once more in his corner, and the train rushed on.
I asked him whether the inscription on the shield in the cornice of the Galerie des Glaces, ``Passage du Rhin, which glorified one of the worst outrages committed by Louis XIV upon Germany, was really in the place where it is represented in his picture. He said that it was. It seemed a divine prophecy of retribution.
[Footnote 6: See Victor Hugo, Le Rhin, i. The Walloon dialect varies greatly between the towns. Here are a few words of the "Prodigal Son" as they are written in Liege, Huy, and Lille: LIEGE. Jésus lizi d'ha co: In homme aveut deux fis. Li pus jone dérit
"But who is die prite?" "She is Mlle. Graff, the daughter of our host, the landlord of the Hotel du Rhin. I have loved Mlle. Emilie these seven years; she has read so many immoral novels, that she refused all offers for me, without knowing what might come of it. She will be a very wealthy young lady; her uncles, the tailors in the Rue de Richelieu, will leave her all their money.
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