And now, when we left the cafe, we were pursued and
overtaken at the hotel door by no less a person than
the Juge de Paix: a functionary, as far as I
can make out, of the character of a Scots Sheriff-Substitute.
He gave us his card and invited us to sup with him
on the spot, very neatly, very gracefully, as Frenchmen
can do these things. It was for the credit of
Landrecies, said he; and although we knew very well
how little credit we could do the place, we must have
been churlish fellows to refuse an invitation so politely
introduced.
The house of the Judge was close by; it was a well-appointed
bachelor’s establishment, with a curious collection
of old brass warming-pans upon the walls. Some
of these were most elaborately carved. It seemed
a picturesque idea for a collector. You could
not help thinking how many night-caps had wagged over
these warming-pans in past generations; what jests
may have been made, and kisses taken, while they were
in service; and how often they had been uselessly
paraded in the bed of death. If they could only
speak, at what absurd, indecorous, and tragical scenes
had they not been present!
The wine was excellent. When we made the Judge
our compliments upon a bottle, ‘I do not give
it you as my worst,’ said he. I wonder
when Englishmen will learn these hospitable graces.
They are worth learning; they set off life, and make
ordinary moments ornamental.
There were two other Landrecienses present.
One was the collector of something or other, I forget
what; the other, we were told, was the principal notary
of the place. So it happened that we all five
more or less followed the law. At this rate,
the talk was pretty certain to become technical.
The Cigarette expounded the Poor Laws very magisterially.
And a little later I found myself laying down the
Scots Law of Illegitimacy, of which I am glad to say
I know nothing. The collector and the notary,
who were both married men, accused the Judge, who
was a bachelor, of having started the subject.
He deprecated the charge, with a conscious, pleased
air, just like all the men I have ever seen, be they
French or English. How strange that we should
all, in our unguarded moments, rather like to be thought
a bit of a rogue with the women!
As the evening went on, the wine grew more to my taste;
the spirits proved better than the wine; the company
was genial. This was the highest water mark
of popular favour on the whole cruise. After
all, being in a Judge’s house, was there not
something semi-official in the tribute? And
so, remembering what a great country France is, we
did full justice to our entertainment. Landrecies
had been a long while asleep before we returned to
the hotel; and the sentries on the ramparts were already
looking for daybreak.
SAMBRE AND OISE CANAL
CANAL BOATS
Next day we made a late start in the rain. The
Judge politely escorted us to the end of the lock
under an umbrella. We had now brought ourselves
to a pitch of humility in the matter of weather, not
often attained except in the Scottish Highlands.
A rag of blue sky or a glimpse of sunshine set our
hearts singing; and when the rain was not heavy, we
counted the day almost fair.
