Shawl-Straps | Page 5

ghost, that
mild old lady was ever at his side, mutely pointing and affably smiling.
Of course he gave in, lifted one tray, saw much flannel, nearly blew his
venerable nose off sniffing at one suspicious bottle, and slamming
down the lid, scrawled a mysterious cross, bowed and fled.
Proudly returning to Amanda, the victorious one found her friend in a
high state of indignation; for no officer there would touch her trunk
because some American Express had put little leaden stamps here and
there for some unknown purpose. Not even in her best French could the
irate lady make the thick-headed men understand that it was not a high
crime against the nation to undo a strap till some superior officer
arrived to take the responsibility of so rash a step.
If they had comprehended the dire threats, the personal remarks, and
unmitigated scorn of those three fair travellers, the blue-coated

imbeciles would have been reduced to submission. Fortunately the
great man came in time to save them from utter rout; for the ladies were
just trying to decide whether to go and leave the luggage to its fate, or
to haul it forth and depart vi et armis, when a stout old party came, saw,
said, 'It is nothing; pass the trunk; a thousand pardons, Madame,' and
peace was restored.
Instantly the porters, who till then had stood back, eyeing the innocent,
black ark, as if it was an infernal machine liable to explode at a touch,
threw themselves upon it, bore it forth, and heaving it atop of an
omnibus, returned to demand vast sums for having waited so long.
Then was Amanda sublime; then did her comrades for the first time
learn the magnitude of her powers, and realise the treasure they
possessed. Stowing Matilda and the smaller traps in the bus, and saying
to Lavinia, 'Stand by me,' this dauntless maid faced one dozen
blue-bloused, black-bearded, vociferous, demonstrative Frenchmen;
and, calmly offering the proper sum, refused to add one sou more.
Vainly the drivers perjured themselves in behalf of the porters; vainly
the guard looked on, with imposing uniforms, and impertinent
observations; vainly Mat cried imploringly, 'Pay anything, and let us
get off before there is a mob'--still the indomitable Amanda held forth
the honest franc; and, when no one would take it, laid it on the post,
and entering the omnibus, drove calmly away.
'What should we do without you?' sighed Lavinia, with fervent
gratitude.
'Be cheated right and left, and never know it, dear,' responded Amanda,
preparing for another fight with the omnibus-driver.
And she had it; for, unwarned by the fate of the porters, this
short-sighted man insisted on carrying the ladies to a dirty little hotel to
dine, though expressly ordered to go at once to the station. Nothing
would induce them to alight, though the landlord came out in person
and begged them to do so; and, after a protracted struggle and a drive
all over the town, they finally reached the depôt.

Here another demand for double fare was promptly quenched by an
appeal to the chef de station, who, finding that Mademoiselle was wide
awake, crushed the driver and saw justice done.
Exhausted but triumphant, the three at length found themselves rolling
slowly towards Morlaix through a green and blooming country, so
unlike the New England they had left behind, that they rejoiced like
butterflies in the sunshine.

II.
BRITTANY.
After a late dinner, at which their appetites were pretty effectually
taken away by seeing dishes of snails passed round and eaten like nuts,
with large pins to pick out the squirming meat; a night's rest somewhat
disturbed by the incessant clatter of sabots in the market-place, and a
breakfast rendered merry by being served by a garçon whom Dickens
would have immortalised, our travellers went on to Caulnes-Dinan.
Here began their adventures, properly speaking. They were obliged to
drive fourteen miles to Dinan in a ram-shackle carriage drawn by three
fierce little horses, with their tails done up in braided chignons, and
driven by a humpback. This elegant equipage was likewise occupied by
a sleepy old priest, who smoked his pipe without stopping the whole
way; also by a large, loquacious, beery man, who talked incessantly,
informing the company that he was a friend of Victor Hugo, a child of
nature aged sixty, and obliged to drink much ale because it went to his
head and gave him commercial ideas.
If it had given him no others it would have done well; but, after each
draught, and he took many, this child of nature became so friendly that
even the free and easy Americans were abashed. Matilda quailed before
the languishing glances he gave her, and tied her head up like a bundle
in a thick veil. The