Here was an unexpected dilemma. A terrible pause ensued. Then, with an effort which in some minds would have produced a poem at least, I attempted to make known the object of our quest. I cannot begin to tell of the facial contortions which accompanied this sentence, nor of the ineffable peace which followed its conclusion. It made no manner of difference that his reply was a jargon of unintelligible sounds. Virtue is its own reward. One sentence alone I caught, as the indistinguishable tones flew by. We were to take the first street, and then turn to the right. "What did he say?" asked Mrs. K., when we had _merci_-d ourselves out of their radiant presences. I explained the direction we were to follow. "Horrible countenance he had," she remarked, as we pursued our way. "O, dreadful," I assented. "Nobody knows where he may send us," she continued. Sure enough! In our alarm we stopped short in the street, and stared at each other with horrified countenances. "I have heard--" I began. "Yes; and so have I," she went on, shaking her head, and expressing by that gesture most fearful possibilities. A bright thought seized me. "He told us to turn to the _right_; we will turn to the _left_!" And with that happy, womanly instinct, said to transcend all judgment, _we did_. Strange as it may appear, though we went on for a long half hour, no "_Trois Rois_" gladdened our eyes. Suddenly Mrs. K. struck an attitude. "A fine appearance we shall present," said she; "two lone women, dusty and heated, our arms full of baggage, straggling up to a hotel two mortal hours after the arrival of the train. We'll take a carriage." To me this inglorious advent was so distant in prospect that it held no terrors, nothing of mortification even. "_Les Trois Rois_" had become a myth, an idea towards which we vainly struggled. "If it were only across the street," she went on, rising to the occasion and warming with the subject, "we would go in a carriage." One approached at that moment. We motioned to it _à la Mandarin_, with our heads, our hands and arms being full. The driver raised his whip and pointed solemnly into the distance. We turned to gaze, seeing nothing but the heavens in that direction. When we looked back, he was gone. We should not like to affirm--we hardly dare suggest--we are sure of nothing but that he vanished from before our eyes. A second appeared in the distance. We began in time. We pawed the air wildly with our umbrellas. The very satchels and wraps upon our arms nodded and beckoned. In serene unconsciousness the driver held to his course. "Well!" I exclaimed, indignantly. "I should think so," added Mrs. K., with emphasis. "Is there anything peculiar, anything unusual in our personal appearance?" I asked, glancing down upon our dusty appointments. As we concentrated our energies and belongings for one final effort, a benignant countenance smiled out upon us from above a _cipher_. We were storming a private carriage!