His enjoyment did not last very long. The usual troubles of a winter voyage, acting on a dilapidated digestive system, were not spared the guardian of Margaret But everything---even a period of waiting at the Paris _salle d’attente_, and a struggle with the _cochers_ at the station (who, for some reason, always decline to take a fare)--must come to an end at last. About dinner-time, Maitland was jolted through the glare of the Parisian streets, to the Avenue de l’Opéra. At the Hôtel Alsace et Lorraine he determined not to betray himself by too precipitate eagerness. In the first place, he wrote an assumed name in the hotel book, choosing, by an unlucky inspiration, the pseudonym of Buchanan. He then ordered dinner in the hotel, and, by way of propitiation, it was a much better dinner than usual that Maitland ordered. Bottles of the higher Bordeaux wines, reposing in beautiful baskets, were brought at his command; for he was determined favorably to impress the people of the house. His conduct in this matter was partly determined by the fact that, for the moment, the English were not popular in Paris. In fact, as the French newspapers declared, with more truth than they suspected, “Paris was not the place for English people, especially for English women.” In these international circumstances, then, Maitland believed he showed the wisdom of the serpent when he ordered dinner in the fearless old fashion attributed by tradition to the Milords of the past But he had reckoned without his appetite. A consequence of sea-travel, neither uncommon nor alarming, is the putting away of all desire to eat and drink. As the waiter carried off the untouched _hors d’oeuvres_ (whereof Maitland only nibbled the delicious bread and butter); as he bore away the _huîtres_, undiminished in number; as the _bisque_ proved too much for the guest of the evening; as he faltered over the soles, and failed to appreciate the cutlets; as he turned from the noblest _crûs_ (including the widow’s _crûs_, those of La Veuve Cliquot), and asked for _siphon_ and _fine champagne_, the waiter’s countenance assumed an air of owl-like sagacity. There was something wrong, the _garçon_ felt sure, about a man who could order a dinner like Maitland’s, and then decline to partake thereof. However, even in a republican country, you can hardly arrest a man merely because his intentions are better than his appetite. The waiter, therefore, contented himself with assuming an imposing attitude, and whispering something to the hall porter. The Fellow of St. Gatien’s, having dined with the Barmecide regardless of expense, went on (as he hoped) to ingratiate himself with the _concierge_. From that official he purchased two large cigars, which he did not dream of attempting to enjoy; and he then endeavored to enter into conversation, selecting for a topic the state of the contemporary drama. What would monsieur advise him to go to see? Where was Mile. Jane Hading playing?