his hotel close by.

We were hard hit in the early part of this year by a mistake I
made owing to my ignorance of Paris customs. It seemed to us
quite a matter of course that we should wait until the proper
quarter-day to give notice to our landlady. So I called on the
proprietress of the house, a rich young widow living in one of
her own houses in the Marias quarter. She received me, but seemed
much embarrassed, and said she would speak to her agent about the
matter, and eventually referred me to him. The next day I was
informed by letter that my notice would have been valid had it
been given two days earlier. By this omission I had rendered
myself liable, according to the agreement, for another year's
rent. Horrified by this news, I went to see the agent himself,
and after having been kept waiting for a long time--as a matter
of fact they would not let me in at all--I found an elderly
gentleman, apparently crippled by some very painful malady, lying
motionless before me. I frankly told him my position, and begged
him most earnestly to release me from my agreement, but I was
merely told that the fault was mine, and not his, that I had
given notice a day too late, and consequently that I must find
the rent for the next year. My concierge, to whom, with some
emotion, I related the story of this occurrence, tried to soothe
me by saying: 'J'aurais pu vous dire cela, car voyez, monsieur,
cet homme ne vaut pas l'eau qu'il boit.'

This entirely unforeseen misfortune destroyed our last hopes of
getting out of our disastrous position. We consoled ourselves for
awhile with the hope of finding another lodger, but the fates
were once more against us. Easter came, the new term began, and