" after
breakfast, to beg him to affix postage-stamps to our letters, and to
demand the precise time when "they will reach England;" as if they
wouldn't reach at all without "Mr.'s" authority. It gives the nervous
a sense of security to watch "Mr." stamping envelopes. It is a way of
beginning the day in a Grand Hotel.
"Mr." gives you the idea of not wishing to make a profit; but he gives
you nothing else. You wish to be "_en pension_"--"Ver' well, Sor, it
is seventeen francs (or marks) the day;" but you soon discover that
your room is extra, and that you may not dine "apart;" in a word, you
are "Mr.'s" bondsman. Then there is the persuasive lady, who perhaps,
_may_ be stopping a week or more, but her plans are undecided--at any
rate six days--"Will 'Mr.' make a reduction?" "Mr." however, continues
his manuscript, oh ever so long! and smiles; his smile is worse than
his bite! I, the _Habitue_, approach "Mr." with a furtive clandestine
air, and observe cheerily, "I hope to remain here a month."
"Certainly, Sor; is better you do; will be se same as last year; I
gif you se same appartement, you see."--This with an air of favour.
I thank him profusely--for nothing. My bill turns out to be higher
than if I had been overcharged separately for everything. "Mr." is
the Master of the Arts of extras.
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