The Rest of Sunday, the 25th.
We Seek Breakfast.—I Air My German.—The Art of Gesture.—The Intelligence of the Première Danseuse.—Performance of English Pantomime in the Pyrenees.—Sad Result Therefrom.—The "German Conversation" Book.—Its Narrow-minded View of Human Wants and Aspirations.—Sunday in Munich.—Hans and Gretchen.—High Life v. Low Life.—"A Beer-Cellar."
At Munich we left our luggage at the station, and went in search of breakfast. Of course, at eight o'clock in the morning none of the big cafés were open; but at length, beside some gardens, we found an old-fashioned looking restaurant, from which came a pleasant odour of coffee and hot onions; and walking through and seating ourselves at one of the little tables, placed out under the trees, we took the bill of fare in our hands, and summoned the waiter to our side.
I ordered the breakfast. I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to try my German. I ordered coffee and rolls as a groundwork. I got over that part of my task very easily. With the practice I had had during the last two days, I could have ordered coffee and rolls for forty. Then I foraged round for luxuries, and ordered a green salad. I had some difficulty at first in convincing the man that it was not a boiled cabbage that I wanted, but succeeded eventually in getting that silly notion out of his head.
I still had a little German left, even after that. So I ordered an omelette also.
"Tell him a savoury one," said B., "or he will be
