By deep midnight we were thundering over the great stone Pont
d'Elbe, to the Hotel de Saxe, where, by one o'clock, we were lost in
dreams.
In the morning the question was, how to find our party.
"Waiter, bring me a directory."
"There is no directory, sir."
"No directory? Then how shall we contrive to find our friends?"
"Monsieur has friends residing in Dresden?"
"No, no! our party that came last night from Leipsic."
"At what hotel do they stop?"
"That is precisely what I wish to find out."
"Will monsieur allow me to give their description to the police?"
(0, ho, thought I; that is your directory, is it? Wonder if that is
the reason you have none printed.) "_Non, merci,"_ said I, and
set off on foot to visit the principal hotels. I knew they would go by
Murray or Bradshaw, and lo, sure enough they were at the Hotel
Bellevue, just sitting down to breakfast. S. started as if she had
seen a ghost.
"Why, where did you come from? What has happened? Where is H.? We
thought you were in Halle!"
Explanations followed. H. was speedily transferred to their hotel,
where they had bespoken rooms for us; and we sallied forth to the
court church to hear the music of high mass.
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