him, of which more anon; let him first (as we did) wash or rather
sprinkle his face as best he can, and then we will tell him after
dinner what we generally do with the bowls in question. I forget
how many things they gave us, but I am sure many more than would be
pleasant to read, nor do I remember any circumstance connected with
the dinner, save that on occasion of one of the courses, the waiter
perceiving a little perplexity on my part as to how I should manage
an artichoke served a la francaise, feelingly removed my knife and
fork from my hand and cut it up himself into six mouthfuls,
returning me the whole with a sigh of gratitude for the escape of
the artichoke from a barbarous and unnatural end; and then after
dinner they brought us little tumblers of warm lavender scent and
water to wash our mouths out, and the little bowls to spit into; but
enough of eating, we must have some more coffee at a cafe on the
Boulevards, watch the carriages and the people and the dresses and
the sunshine and all the pomps and vanities which the Boulevards
have not yet renounced; return to the inn, fetch our knapsacks, and
be off to the Chemin de Fer de Lyon by forty-five minutes past
seven; our train leaves at five minutes past eight, and we are
booked to Grenoble. All night long the train speeds towards the
south. We leave Sens with its grey cathedral solemnly towering in
the moonlight a mile on the left. (How few remember, that to the
architect William of Sens we owe Canterbury Cathedral.)
Fontainebleau is on the right, station after station wakes up our
dozing senses, while ever in our ears are ringing as through the dim
light we gaze on the surrounding country, "the pastures of
Switzerland and the poplar valleys of France."

It is still dark--as dark, that is, as the midsummer night will
allow it to be, when we are aware that we have entered on a tunnel;