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Our own
sleeping-room had a deep fireplace, in which we ordered a fire, and asked
if there were not some saloon already warmed, where we could get a cup of
tea.
Hereupon the waiter led us back along the endless corridor, and down the
old stone staircases, and out into the quadrangle, and journeyed with us
along an exterior arcade, and finally threw open the door of the salle a
manger, which proved to be a room of lofty height, with a vaulted roof, a
stone floor, and interior spaciousness sufficient for a baronial hall,
the whole bearing the same aspect of times gone by, that characterized
the rest of the house. There were two or three tables covered with white
cloth, and we sat down at one of them and had our tea. Finally we wended
back to our sleeping-rooms,--a considerable journey, so endless seemed
the ancient hotel. I should like to know its history.
The fire made our great chamber look comfortable, and the fireplace threw
out the heat better than the little square hole over which we cowered in
our saloon at the Hotel de Louvre.


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