_Ansard_. Perfectly. I can manage all that. _Barnstaple_. Then when you put your foot on shore, you must, for the first time, _feel sea-sick_. _Ansard_. On shore? _Barnstaple_. Yes; reel about, not able to stand--every symptom as if on board. Express your surprise at the strange effect, pretend not to explain it, leave that to medical men, it being sufficient for you to state the _fact_. _Ansard_. The _fact_! O Barnstaple! _Barnstaple_. That will be a great hit for a first chapter. You reverse the order of things. _Ansard_. That I do most certainly. Shall I finish the first chapter with that _fact_? _Barnstaple_. No. Travellers always go to bed at the end of each chapter. It is a wise plan, and to a certain degree it must be followed. You must have a baggage adventure--be separated from it--some sharp little urchin has seized upon your valise--it is nowhere to be found--quite in despair--walk to the Hotel d'Angleterre, and find that you are met by the landlord and garcons, who inform you that your carriage is in the remise, and your rooms ready--ascend to your bedroom--find that your baggage is not only there, but neatly laid out-- your portmanteau unstrapped--your trunk uncorded--and the little rascal of a commissaire standing by with his hat in his hand, and a smile _de malice_, having installed _himself_ as your _domestique de place_--take him for his impudence--praise the "_Cotelettes_ and the _vin de Beaune_"--wish the reader good night, and go to bed. Thus ends the first chapter. [ANSARD _gets up and takes_ BARNSTAPLE'S _hand, which he shakes warmly without speaking_. BARNSTAPLE _smiles and walks out_. ANSARD _is left hard at work at his desk_.] ARTHUR ANSARD _in his Chambers, solus, with his pen in his hand_. _Ansard_. Capital! that last was a _hit_. It has all the appearance of reality. To be sure, I borrowed the hint, but that nobody will be able to prove. (_Yawns_.) Heigho! I have only got half way on my journey yet, and my ideas are quite exhausted. I am as much worn out and distressed as one of the German post-horses which I described in my last chapter. (_Nods, and then falls fast asleep_.) BARNSTAPLE _taps at the door; receiving no answer, he enters_. _Barnstaple_. So--quite fast. What can have put him to sleep? (_Reads the manuscript on the table_.) No wonder, enough to put anybody to sleep apparently. Why, Ansard! _Ansard_. (_starting up, still half asleep_.) Already? Why, I've hardly shut my eyes. Well, I'll be dressed directly; let them get some _cafe_ ready below. Henri, did you order the hind-spring to be repaired! (_Nods again with his eyes shut_.) _Barnstaple_. Hallo! What now, Ansard, do you really think that you are travelling?