The traveller was hastening with all diligence to get to _Strasburg_ that night. What a fool am I, said the traveller to himself, when he had rode about a league farther, to think of getting into _Strasburg_ this night.—_Strasburg!_——the great _Strasburg!_——_Strasburg_, the capital of all _Alsatia!_ _Strasburg_, an imperial city! _Strasburg_, a sovereign state! _Strasburg_, garrisoned with five thousand of the best troops in all the world!—Alas! if I was at the gates of _Strasburg_ this moment, I could not gain admittance into it for a ducat—nay a ducat and half—’tis too much—better go back to the last inn I have passed——than lie I know not where——or give I know not what. The traveller, as he made these reflections in his mind, turned his horse’s head about, and three minutes after the stranger had been conducted into his chamber, he arrived at the same inn. ——We have bacon in the house, said the host, and bread——and till eleven o’clock this night had three eggs in it——but a stranger, who arrived an hour ago, has had them dressed into an omelet, and we have nothing.—— Alas! said the traveller, harassed as I am, I want nothing but a bed.——I have one as soft as is in _Alsatia_, said the host. ——The stranger, continued he, should have slept in it, for ’tis my best bed, but upon the score of his nose.——He has got a defluxion, said the traveller.——Not that I know, cried the host.——But ’tis a camp-bed, and _Jacinta_, said he, looking towards the maid, imagined there was not room in it to turn his nose in.——Why so? cried the traveller, starting back.—It is so long a nose, replied the host.——The traveller fixed his eyes upon _Jacinta_, then upon the ground—kneeled upon his right knee—had just got his hand laid upon his breast——Trifle not with my anxiety, said he rising up again.——’Tis no trifle, said _Jacinta_, ’tis the most glorious nose!——The traveller fell upon his knee again—laid his hand upon his breast—then, said he, looking up to heaven, thou hast conducted me to the end of my pilgrimage—’Tis _Diego._ The traveller was the brother of the _Julia_, so often invoked that night by the stranger as he rode from _Strasburg_ upon his mule; and was come, on her part, in quest of him. He had accompanied his sister from _Valadolid_ across the _Pyrenean_ mountains through _France_, and had many an entangled skein to wind off in pursuit of him through the many meanders and abrupt turnings of a lover’s thorny tracks. ——_Julia_ had sunk under it——and had not been able to go a step farther than to _Lyons_, where, with the many disquietudes of a tender heart, which all talk of——but few feel—she sicken’d, but had just strength to write a letter to _Diego_; and having conjured her brother never to see her face till he had found him out, and put the letter into his hands, _Julia_ took to her bed.