Accustomed as he was to the rubs of his profession, Berthelini was
unpleasantly affected by the landlord's manner.
"Elvira," said he to his wife, "mark my words: Castel-le-Gachis is
a tragic folly."
"Wait till we see what we take," replied Elvira.
"We shall take nothing," returned Berthelini; "we shall feed upon
insults. I have an eye, Elvira: I have a spirit of divination;
and this place is accursed. The landlord has been discourteous,
the Commissary will be brutal, the audience will be sordid and
uproarious, and you will take a cold upon your throat. We have
been besotted enough to come; the die is cast - it will be a second
Sedan."
Sedan was a town hateful to the Berthelinis, not only from
patriotism (for they were French, and answered after the flesh to
the somewhat homely name of Duval), but because it had been the
scene of their most sad reverses. In that place they had lain
three weeks in pawn for their hotel bill, and had it not been for a
surprising stroke of fortune they might have been lying there in
pawn until this day. To mention the name of Sedan was for the
Berthelinis to dip the brush in earthquake and eclipse. Count
Almaviva slouched his hat with a gesture expressive of despair, and
even Elvira felt as if ill-fortune had been personally invoked.
"Let us ask for breakfast," said she, with a woman's tact.
The Commissary of Police of Castel-le-Gachis was a large red
Commissary, pimpled, and subject to a strong cutaneous
transpiration.
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