X., you are an honest man; I will give you ten thousand francs, but on
condition that you furnish splinter-bars and traces also for that price."

Still one must pay for one's pleasures, and once _en route_ I made short
work of the "What-may-happen-on-the-road" section. The sentence from which
I anticipated most trouble was this: "Postilion, stop. A spoke of one of
the wheels is broken; some of the harness is undone; a spring is also
broken and one of the horses' shoes is come off." I got out all this
(without having to tell a lie too) and was just looking feverishly through
the book to find phrases to describe the ricketty state of every other part
of the vehicle when the off hind-wheel came in half, the front axle snapped
and the carriage rolled over on its side stone dead. When I came to myself
I found that I was comfortably seated in a ditch, my driver beside me and
my Vade Mecum still open in my hand; so I had the gratification of being
able to continue the conversation where I had left off. "We should do
well," I read, "to get out."

I will not detain you long over the difficulties that I had with the
"Society" section. But I feel I ought to mention the business of the
Countess, if only to put intending players on their guard. There is a
puzzling phrase which occurs in answer to the observation, "Pray come
nearer the fire; I am sure you must be cold." The proper answer is, "No, I
thank you. I am very well placed here beside the Countess." It took me a
month to find a Countess, two to meet her in the drawing-room of a mutual
friend, and four to recover from the hole which the irascible little Count
made in me when we met next morning on the field of honour.

So I pass sadly and with tears of chagrin to my ultimate defeat. I met my
Waterloo, my friends, in the section labelled "The Tailor." Requests within
reason I can comply with, for the fun of the thing. Eatables and drinks,