CHAPTER XLIX.
A SURPRISE.
It was late upon the following day ere I awoke from the long deep sleep that closed my labours in Strasbourg.

In the confusion of my waking thoughts, I imagined myself still before a crowded and enthusiastic audience--the glare of the foot-lights--the crash of the orchestra--the shouts of "l'Auteur," "l'Auteur," were all before me, and so completely possessed me, that, as the waiter entered with hot water, I could not resist the impulse to pull off my night-cap with one hand, and press the other to my heart in the usual theatrical style of acknowledgments for a most flattering reception.

The startled look of the poor fellow as he neared the door to escape, roused me from my hallucination, and awakened me to the conviction that the suspicion of lunacy might be a still heavier infliction than the personation of Monsieur Meerberger.
With thoughts of this nature, I assumed my steadiest demeanour--ordered my breakfast in the most orthodox fashion--eat it like a man in his senses; and when I threw myself back in the wicker conveniency they call a caleche, and bid adieu to Kehl, the whole fraternity of the inn would have given me a certificate of sanity before any court in Europe.
"Now for Munich," said I, as we rattled along down the steep street of the little town.

"Now for Munich, with all the speed that first of postmasters and slowest of men, the Prince of Tour and Taxis, will afford us." The future engrossed all my thoughts; and puzzling as my late adventures had been to account for, I never for a moment reverted to the past.

"Is she to be mine ?" was the ever-rising question in my mind.