For a moment I stood bewildered: the whole train of my reasoning and dreaming passed afresh through my mind; I was again tempted, drawn as if with cords, by the image of the cabman's eating-house, and again recoiled from the possibility of insult.

"Qui dort dine," thought I to myself; and took my homeward way with wavering footsteps, through rainy streets in which the lamps and the shop-windows now began to gleam; still marshalling imaginary dinners as I went.
"Ah, Monsieur Dodd," said the porter, "there has been a registered letter for you.

The facteur will bring it again to-morrow." A registered letter for me, who had been so long without one?
Of what it could possibly contain, I had no vestige of a guess; nor did I delay myself guessing; far less form any conscious plan of dishonesty: the lies flowed from me like a natural secretion.
"O," said I, "my remittance at last! What a bother I should have missed it! Can you lend me a hundred francs until to-morrow ?" I had never attempted to borrow from the porter till that moment: the registered letter was, besides, my warranty; and he gave me what he had--three napoleons and some francs in silver.

I pocketed the money carelessly, lingered a while chaffing, strolled leisurely to the door; and then (fast as my trembling legs could carry me) round the corner to the Cafe de Cluny.

French waiters are deft and speedy; they were not deft enough for me; and I had scarce decency to let the man set the wine upon the table or put the butter alongside the bread, before my glass and my mouth were filled.