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Updated: May 16, 2025
The shock had upset my nerves considerably, but, accompanied by Blythe and Bindo, I drove the car down to Dover, took her across to Calais, and then drove across France to Marseilles, and along the Riviera to Genoa and Pisa, and on to Florence a delightful journey, which I had accomplished on three previous occasions, for we preferred the car to the stuffy wagon-lit of the Rome express.
"'At home in life! You've made yourself pretty well at home in this wagon-lit, anyhow, taking off all your clothes and putting on your nightgown. I should never have thought of that. It seems hardly decent. Suppose we should be killed." "Most people do try to die in their nightgowns, when you come to think of it," said I. "Well, you have a quaint way of putting things.
That boat reeked with Moors and cattle, and there was no wagon-lit on the train from Madrid. I sat up all night, and played cards with that young Cellini. Have Madame Zara and Kalonay returned? I see the yacht in the harbor. Did she succeed?" "We do not know; the boat only arrived at daybreak. They are probably on the launch that is coming in now."
But she had said nothing about the Senniers, for the simple reason that Adelaide had told her nothing about them until they stepped into the wagon-lit in Paris. Then she had remarked carelessly: "Oh, yes, I believe they're crossing with us! Why not?" As soon as the yacht was moored the whole party prepared to leave her. Rooms had been engaged in advance at the Hôtel St. George.
He found, to his delight, that for the first time in several years he was not presiding at his own table, and that his guests seemed to feel no awe of him. "What's the use of a yacht nowadays?" Collier was saying "what's the use of a yacht, when you can go to sleep in a wagon-lit at the Gare du Nord, and wake up at Vladivostok?
The night before, smoking his final cigarette in his upper berth in the wagon-lit, he had tempted Providence by laying out for himself a programme and a time schedule; and it looked as if Providence had been unable to resist the temptation.
Away went the Gentle Past with a bump, as if it had knocked against a snag in the current of my thoughts. Paris or Pamela instead, then! or both together, since they seem inseparable, even when Pamela is at her most American, and tells me to "talk United States." It was all natural to think of Pamela, because it was she who gave me the ticket for the train de luxe, and my berth in the wagon-lit.
May 15th, 1896. Moscow. DEAR CHAS: We left Berlin Monday night at eleven and slept well in a wagon-lit. That was the only night out of the five that I spent in the cars that I had my clothes off, although I was able to stretch out on the seats, so I am cramped and tired now.
Then, on turning back, I was forced to remain at the level crossing until the Paris express, with its long wagon-lit, had roared past, and afterwards I put on a move, and we were soon back in Leghorn. She did not return to the hotel with me, but at her request I dropped her just before we entered the town. Morning revealed the startling truth.
This will entitle us in future years to listen with the condescension of pioneers to the tales of the tourists who make the same trans-Balkan journey in a comfortable wagon-lit, with hot and cold running water and electric lights and a dining-car ahead. It is a great thing to have seen a country in the pioneer stage of its existence.
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