Even on the present occasion it was necessary to pay a visit to those regions, since several celebrated historical figures were kept down there, which I felt I must on no account miss seeing.
But after I had thoroughly explored that portion, making the acquaintance of all the new-comers, putting my head into the guillotine, taking a turn in the condemned cell, sitting in Napoleon's carriage, and otherwise informing myself concerning the seamy side of human nature, I determined to be virtuous and devote at least half an hour to the study of the royalties in the Great Hall.
The enterprise was not to be undertaken without refreshment.

I therefore took a preliminary excursion to the ground floor, where the historical costumes are kept, and, close beside them, the ices, buns, Victoria sandwiches, ginger-beer, Turkish delight, lemon squashes, and other wholesome aids to historical research.

Here I dallied a little-- just long enough to repair the ravages of nature--and then, feeling very much as Little Jack Horner did after he had partaken of refreshment, I mounted once more the marble stairs and set myself to do the crowned heads.
I set myself literally, for it occurred to me I could do their Majesties just as well sitting as standing.

And, as the afternoon was hot, and the sofa near the door was comfortable, and as, moreover, I was slightly oppressed with my study of the costumes downstairs, and considerably soothed by the strains of Madame Tussaud's orchestra, it so fell out that, just as I was nodding how-do-you-do to William the Conqueror, I dropped asleep.
How long I slept I must leave it to those of my readers who have come through the same exertions of mind and body to guess.

I had never intended to exceed a short forty winks, because I was aware that only half an hour was left before the time for closing arrived.