a suit for the English Charge d’Affaires, whose trunks had been sent in a wrong direction, and who had despatched a courier from Frankfort, to order a uniform.  This second thwarting, and from the same source, so nettled me, that I greatly fear, all my respect for the foreign office and those who live thereby, would not have saved them from something most unlike a blessing, had not Monsieur Schnetz saved diplomacy from such desecration by saying, that if I could content myself with a plain suit, such as civilians wore, he would do his endeavour to accommodate me.

“Any thing, Monsieur Schnetz—­dress me like the Pope’s Nuncio, or the Mayor of London, if you like, but only enable me to go.”

Although my reply did not seem to convey a very exalted idea of my taste in costume to the worthy artiste, it at least evinced my anxiety for the ball; and running his measure over me, he assured me that the dress he would provide was both well looking and becoming; adding, “At nine o’clock, sir, you’ll have it—­exactly the same size as his Excellency the Charge d’Affaires.”

“Confound the Charge d’Affaires!” I added, and left the house.

CHAPTER LII.

Inn at Munich.

As I had never been in Munich before, I strolled about the town till dusk.  At that time the taste of the present king had not enriched the capital with the innumerable objects of art which render it now second to none in Europe.  There were, indeed, then but few attractions—­narrow streets, tall, unarchitectural-looking houses, and gloomy, unimpressive churches.  Tired of this, I turned towards my inn, wondering in my mind if Antoine had succeeded in procuring me the room, or whether yet I should be obliged to seek my lodging elsewhere.  Scarcely had I entered the porch, when I found him waiting my arrival, candle in hand.  He conducted me at once up the wide oaken stair, then along the gallery, into a large wainscotted room, with a most capacious bed.  A cheerful wood fire burned and crackled away in the grate—­the cloth was already spread for supper—­(remember it was in Germany)—­the newspapers of the day were placed before me—­and, in a word, every attention showed that I had found the true avenue to Antoine’s good graces, who now stood bowing before me, in apparent ecstasy at his own cleverness.

“All very well done, Antoine, and now for supper—­order it yourself for me—­I never can find my way in a German ‘carte de diner;’ and be sure to have a fiacre here at nine—­nine precisely.”

Antoine withdrew, leaving me to my own reflections, which now, if not gloomy, were still of the most anxious kind.

Scarcely was the supper placed upon the table, when a tremendous tramping of horses along the street, and loud cracking of whips, announced a new arrival.

“Here they are,” said I, as, springing up, I upset the soup, and nearly threw the roti into Antoine’s face, as he was putting it before me.