Héloise became quite disagreeable about it, though as it wasn't Jean I can't think what business it was of hers. She said it was because "Antoine" did not really try, and she was sure he had done it on purpose, upon which Madame de Vermandoise gurgled with mirth. I could hear both sides you see, because of the wooden partition. "Antoine" came into the inner room and said he was "Doux comme un petit agneau," but the Marquise said that he was "Un loup dans une peau de mouton," and must go away. Finally the whole of the rest of the party in different stages of _déshabillé_ got collected outside the door. No landlord was to be found anywhere. Then the old Baron suggested quite a simple plan, which was for Madame de Tournelle to share Madame de Vermandoise's room, and to leave the Comte and "Antoine" in her room. No one seemed to have thought of this before; and that is what they finally did, and at last we got to sleep. In the morning no landlord could still be found, and we had no coffee, but presently he arrived accompanied by two _gendarmes_ and goodness knows what other rabble armed with sticks, and they wanted to proceed upstairs. We heard every sort of "_Sacrés!_" going on between them and Hippolyte, and eventually the landlord almost crawled up apologising, and opened the door with his key. [Sidenote: _A Cautious Landlord_] It appears that hearing the noise of the door being tried to be opened and Madame de Vermandoise's screams, he had thought it wiser to decamp for the night, as two years ago there had been a murder there, and he had had "beaucoup d'embêtement," he said, on account of it, and was determined not to be mixed up in one again, "En ces affaires là, il est bien assez tôt d'arriver le lendemain," he said. Everybody was still laughing too much over the situation to be angry with him; and the coffee, which we got at last, was so good it made up for it; but you should have heard the _plaisanteries_ they made over the night's adventure! Caudebec is an odd place; it used to be inhabited by hundreds of Protestant beaver hat-makers, who fled from there after the Edict of Nantes' affair, and so there are streets of deserted houses still, and so old, one has a stream down the middle. I would not go into the church: the usual smell met me at the door; so the Vicomte and Jean and I went for a walk, and now we are just going to start on the _Sauterelle_ again, and this must be posted. I have managed to write it on my knee, sitting on a stone bench outside the inn door.--Good-bye, dear Mamma, with love from your affectionate daughter, Elizabeth. HOTEL FRASCATI, HAVRE Hotel Frascati, Havre, _Sunday, 21st August_. [Sidenote: _Havre to Trouville_]