Seventeen francs were paid for the monk's ride in Crane's pocket, and we thought the episode settled, but later on the official came back, stating that a mistake had been made and that the monk's fare was nine francs more, but this Crane positively refused to pay until we were again surrounded by a cordon of soldiers, when he "anted up," but most unwillingly.

It was an imposition, doubtless, but they had the might on their side and that settled the business.

After that the gentleman ( ?) who had acted as interpreter, doubtless thinking that Americans were "soft marks," put in a claim of twenty francs for services, but this he did not get, though he came very close to receiving the toe of a boot in its stead.
After once more getting started we sped past the gambling palaces of Monte Carlo and Monaco, that loomed up close behind us in the darkness, and, arriving at Nice, finally secured quarters in the Interlachen Hotel, the city being crowded with strangers who had come from all parts of the world to view the "Battle of Flowers," that was to take place on the morrow.

It rained all that night and all the next day, and as a result the carnival had to be postponed, and the floral decorations presented a somewhat woe-begone and bedraggled appearance.

It had been our intention to play a game here, but to our astonishment and the disappointment of several hundred Americans then in Nice, the project had to be abandoned for the reason that there was not a ground or anything that even remotely resembled one, within the city limits.
The rain that had caused the postponement of the carnival did not prevent us from leaving the hotel, however, and the entire party put in the day visiting the great gambling halls of Monte Carlo, which are today as famous on this side of the water as they are on the continent, and where the passion for gambling has ruined more people of both sexes than all of the other gambling hells of the world combined.