[Ice-Caves of France and Switzerland by George Forrest Browne]@TWC D-Link book
Ice-Caves of France and Switzerland

CHAPTER XIV
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The poste arrived, as has been said, an hour and a half after its time; and the sole occupant of the coupe, who had lived on fruit and gooseberry syrup, and three penny worth of sweet cake at Crest, since a seven-o'clock breakfast, had wiled away the last hour by inventing choice bills of fare for the meditated supper.

When the lumbering vehicle stopped in the main street of Die, which is here something under seven yards wide, an elderly woman stepped out from the dim crowd, with an uncovered tallow candle in her hand, and asked if there was anyone for the hotel.

The unwonted 'yes' seemed to create some surprise; but she led the way promptly to her hotel, diplomatically meeting the rapid volley of questions respecting supper with an unpromising silence, and the first sight of the house itself dispelled for ever all hope.

An entrance was effected by the kitchen; and not only was there no fire, but there was no light of any description; and the one dip we brought on to the scene betrayed such squalor on all sides, that the suggestion of a _salle-a-manger_ in connection with such a kitchen became at once an impudent mockery.

When this farther room was reached, it proved to be even worse than the kitchen.


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