It is a large old rambling house, built round an irregularly-shaped
court, with another court behind it; and in both courts the stables
and coach-houses seem to be so mixed with the kitchens and
entrances, that one hardly knows what part of the building is equine
and what part human. Judging from the smell which pervades the
lower quarters, and, alas, also too frequently the upper rooms, one
would be inclined to say that the horses had the best of it. The
defect had been pointed out to Madame Faragon more than once; but
that lady, though in most of the affairs of life her temper is
gentle and kindly, cannot hear with equanimity an insinuation that
any portion of her house is either dirty or unsweet. Complaints
have reached her that the beds were--well, inhabited--but no servant
now dares to hint at anything wrong in this particular. If this
traveller or that says a word to her personally in complaint, she
looks as sour as death, and declines to open her mouth in reply; but
when that traveller's back is turned, the things that Madame Faragon
can say about the upstart coxcombry of the wretch, and as to the
want of all real comforts which she is sure prevails in the home
quarters of that ill-starred complaining traveller, are proof to
those who hear them that the old landlady has not as yet lost all
her energy. It need not be doubted that she herself religiously
believes that no foul perfume has ever pervaded the sanctity of her
chambers, and that no living thing has ever been seen inside the
sheets of her beds, except those guests whom she has allocated to
the different rooms.

Matters had not gone very easily with George Voss in all the changes
he had made during the last year. Some things he was obliged to do
without consulting Madame Faragon at all. Then she would discover