The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Volume 6

"We shall meet to-night, Harry," said Waller, as we parted — "we shall meet at the Casino — and don't forget that the Croix Blanche is your hotel; and Schnetz, the tailor, in the Grande Place, will provide you with every thing you need in the way of dress."

This latter piece of information was satisfactory, inasmuch as the greater part of my luggage, containing my uniform, , had been left in the French diligence; and as the ball was patronised by the court, I was greatly puzzled how to make my appearance.

Bad roads and worse horses made me feel the few leagues I had to go the most tiresome part of my journey. But, of course, in this feeling impatience had its share. A few hours more, and my fate should be decided; and yet I thought the time would never come. If the Callonbys should not arrive — if, again, my evil star be in the ascendant, and any new impediment to our meeting arise — but I cannot, will not, think this — Fortune must surely be tired of persecuting me by this time, and, even to sustain her old character for fickleness, must befriend me now. Ah! here we are in Munich — and this is the Croix Blanche — what a dingy old mansion! Beneath a massive porch, supported by heavy stone pillars, stood the stout figure of Andreas Behr, the host. A white napkin, fastened in one button-hole, and hanging gracefully down beside him — a soup-ladle held sceptre-wise in his right hand, and the grinding motion of his nether jaw, all showed that he had risen from his table d'hote to welcome the new arrival; and certainly, if noise and uproar might explain the phenomenon, the clatter of my equipage over the pavement might have risen the dead.

While my postillion was endeavouring, by mighty efforts, with a heavy stone, to turn the handle of the door, and thus liberate me from my cage, I perceived that the host came forward and said something to him — on replying, to which, he ceased his endeavours to open the door, and looked vacantly about him. Upon this I threw down the sash, and called out —

"I say, is not this the Croix Blanche?"

"Ya," said the man-mountain with the napkin.

"Well, then, open the door, pray — I'm going to stop here."

"Nein."

"No! What do you mean by that? Has not Lord Callonby engaged rooms here?"

"Ya."

"Well, then, I am a particular friend of his, and will stay here also."

"Nein."

"What the devil are you at, with your ya and nein?" said I. "Has your confounded tongue nothing better than a monosyllable to reply with."

Whether disliking the tone the controversy was assuming, or remembering that his dinner waited, I know not, but at these words my fat friend turned leisurely round, and waddled back into the house; where, in a moment after, I had the pleasure of beholding him at the head of a long table, distributing viands with a very different degree of activity from what he displayed in dialogue.

With one vigorous jerk, I dashed open the door, upsetting, at the same time, the poor postillion, who had recommenced his operations on the lock, and, foaming with passion, strode into the "salle a manger." Nothing is such an immediate damper to any sudden explosion of temper, as the placid and unconcerned faces of a number of people, who, ignorant of yourself and your peculiar miseries at the moment, seem only to regard you as a madman. This I felt strongly, as, flushed in face and tingling in my fingers, I entered the room.

"Take my luggage," said I to a gaping waiter, "and place a chair there, do you hear?"

There seemed, I suppose, something in my looks that did not admit of much parley, for the man made room for me at once at the table, and left the room, as if to discharge the other part of my injunction, without saying a word. As I arranged my napkin before me, I was collecting my energies and my German, as well as I was able, for the attack of the host, which, I anticipated from his recent conduct, must now ensue; but, greatly to my surprise, he sent me my soup without a word, and the dinner went on without any interruption. When the desert had made its appearance, I beckoned the waiter towards me, and asked what the landlord meant by his singular reception of me. The man shrugged his shoulders, and raised his eyebrows, without speaking, as if to imply, "it's his way."

"Well, then, no matter," said I. "Have you sent my luggage up stairs?"

"No, sir, there is no room — the house is full."

"The house full! Confound it — this is too provoking. I have most urgent reasons for wishing to stay here. Cannot you make some arrangement — see about it, waiter." I here slipped a Napoleon into the fellow's hand, and hinted that as much more awaited the finale of the negociation.

In about a minute after, I perceived him behind the host's chair, pleading my cause with considerable energy; but to my complete chagrin, I heard the other answer all his eloquence by a loud "Nein," that he grunted out in such a manner as closed the conference.

"I cannot succeed, sir," said the man, as he passed behind me, "but don't leave the house till I speak with you again."

What confounded mystery is there in all this, thought I. Is there any thing so suspicious in my look or appearance, that the old bear in the fur cap will not even admit me. What can it all mean. One thing I'm resolved upon — nothing less than force shall remove me.

So saying I lit my cigar, and in order to give the waiter an opportunity of conferring with me unobserved by his master, walked out into the porch and sat down.

In a few minutes he joined me, and after a stealthy look on each side, said —

"The Herr Andreas is a hard man to deal with, and when he says a thing, never goes back of it. Now he has been expecting the new English Charge d'Affaires here these last ten days, and has kept the hotel half empty in consequence; and as mi Lor Callonby has engaged the other half, why we have nothing to do; so that when he asked the postillion if you were mi Lor, and found that you were not, he determined not to admit you."

"But why not have the civility to explain that?"

"He seldom speaks, and when he does only a word or two at a time. He is quite tired with what he has gone through to-day, and will retire very early to bed; and for this reason I have requested you to remain, for as he never ventures up stairs, I will then manage to give you one of the ambassador's rooms, which, even if he come, he'll never miss. So that if you keep quiet, and do not attract any particular attention towards you, all will go well."

This advice seemed so reasonable, that I determined to follow it — any inconvenience being preferable, provided I could be under the same roof with my beloved Jane; and from the waiter's account, there seemed no doubt whatever of their arrival that evening. In order, therefore, to follow his injunctions to the letter, I strolled out toward the Place in search of the tailor, and also to deliver a letter from Waller to the chamberlain, to provide me with a card for the ball. Monsieur Schnetz, who was the very pinnacle of politeness, was nevertheless, in fact, nearly as untractable as my host of the "Cross." All his "sujets" were engaged in preparing a suit for the English Charge d'Affaires, whose trunks had been sent in a wrong direction, and who had despatched a courier from Frankfort, to order a uniform. This second thwarting, and from the same source, so nettled me, that I greatly fear, all my respect for the foreign office and those who live thereby, would not have saved them from something most unlike a blessing, had not Monsieur Schnetz saved diplomacy from such desecration by saying, that if I could content myself with a plain suit, such as civilians wore, he would do his endeavour to accommodate me.

"Any thing, Monsieur Schnetz — dress me like the Pope's Nuncio, or the Mayor of London, if you like, but only enable me to go."

Although my reply did not seem to convey a very exalted idea of my taste in costume to the worthy artiste, it at least evinced my anxiety for the ball; and running his measure over me, he assured me that the dress he would provide was both well looking and becoming; adding, "At nine o'clock, sir, you'll have it — exactly the same size as his Excellency the Charge d'Affaires."

"Confound the Charge d'Affaires!" I added, and left the house.

CHAPTER LII.

INN AT MUNICH

As I had never been in Munich before, I strolled about the town till dusk. At that time the taste of the present king had not enriched the capital with the innumerable objects of art which render it now second to none in Europe. There were, indeed, then but few attractions — narrow streets, tall, unarchitectural-looking houses, and gloomy, unimpressive churches. Tired of this, I turned towards my inn, wondering in my mind if Antoine had succeeded in procuring me the room, or whether yet I should be obliged to seek my lodging elsewhere. Scarcely had I entered the porch, when I found him waiting my arrival, candle in hand. He conducted me at once up the wide oaken stair, then along the gallery, into a large wainscotted room, with a most capacious bed. A cheerful wood fire burned and crackled away in the grate — the cloth was already spread for supper — (remember it was in Germany) — the newspapers of the day were placed before me — and, in a word, every attention showed that I had found the true avenue to Antoine's good graces, who now stood bowing before me, in apparent ecstasy at his own cleverness.

"All very well done, Antoine, and now for supper — order it yourself for me — I never can find my way in a German 'carte de diner;' and be sure to have a fiacre here at nine — nine precisely."

Antoine withdrew, leaving me to my own reflections, which now, if not gloomy, were still of the most anxious kind.

Scarcely was the supper placed upon the table, when a tremendous tramping of horses along the street, and loud cracking of whips, announced a new arrival.

"Here they are," said I, as, springing up, I upset the soup, and nearly threw the roti into Antoine's face, as he was putting it before me.

Down stairs I rushed, through the hall, pushing aside waiters and overturning chambermaids in my course. The carriage was already at the door. Now for a surprise, thought I, as I worked through the crowd in the porch, and reached the door just as the steps were clattered down, and a gentleman began to descend, whom twenty expectant voices, now informed of his identity, welcomed as the new Charge d'Affaires.

"May all the — "

What I wished for his excellency it would not be polite to repeat, nor most discreet even to remember; but, certes, I mounted the stairs with as little good will towards the envoy extraordinary as was consistent with due loyalty.

When once more in my room, I congratulated myself that now at least no more "false starts" could occur — "the eternal Charge d'Affaires, of whom I have been hearing since my arrival, cannot come twice — he is here now, and I hope I'm done with him."

The supper — some greasiness apart — was good — the wine excellent. My spirits were gradually rising, and I paced my room in that mingled state of hope and fear, that amid all its anxieties, has such moments of ecstasy. A new noise without — some rabble in the street; hark, it comes nearer — I hear the sound of wheels; yes, there go the horses — nearer and nearer. Ah, it is dying away again — stay — yes, yes — here it is — here they are. The noise and tumult without now increased every instant — the heavy trot of six or eight horses shook the very street, and I heard the round, dull, rumbling sound of a heavy carriage, as it drew up at last at the door of the inn. Why it was I know not, but this time I could not stir — my heart beat almost loud enough for me to hear — my temples throbbed, and then a cold and clammy perspiration came over me, and I sank into a chair. Fearing that I was about to faint, sick as I was, I felt angry with myself, and tried to rally, but could not, and only at length was roused by hearing that the steps were let down, and shortly after the tread of feet coming along the gallery towards my room.

They are coming — she is coming, thought I. Now then for my doom!

There was some noise of voices outside. I listened, for I still felt unable to rise. The talking grew louder — doors were opened and shut — then came a lull — then more slamming of doors, and more talking — then all was still again — and at last I heard the steps of people as if retiring, and in a few minutes after the carriage door was jammed to, and again the heavy tramp of the horses rattled over the pave. At this instant Antoine entered.

"Well, Antoine," said I, in a voice trembling with weakness and agitation, "not them yet?"

"It was his Grace the Grand Mareschal," said Antoine, scarcely heeding my question, in the importance of the illustrious visitor who had arrived.

"Ah, the Grand Mareschal," said I, carelessly; "does he live here?"

"Sappermint nein, Mein Herr; but he has just been to pay his respects to his Excellency the new Charge d'Affaires."