"What is there to be seen in the treasury ?" "Nothing, sir, worth one son of an Englishman's money," said the taller of the gentlemen.

"Tinsel, paste, and dusty bones--all humbug and extortion." Something in the scornful accent and the deep voice aroused the suspicions of the verger, though the words were spoken in English.
"Our treasury, M'sieur," croaked he, more ravenly than ever, "is rich--rich in episcopal jewels; in relics--inestimable relics.

Tickets two francs each." Grateful, however, for the timely caution, I acknowledged my countryman's courtesy by a bow, declined the proffered investment, and went out again into the sunny streets.
At five o'clock I found myself installed near the head of an immensely long dinner-table in the _salle a manger_ of the Cheval Blanc.

The _salle a manger_ was a magnificent temple radiant with mirrors, and lustres, and panels painted in fresco.

The dinner was an imposing rite, served with solemn ceremonies by ministering waiters.