W. said the marshal was very civil to him, but it was evident that he could not stand Jules Simon any longer and the various measures that he felt were impending.  We had many visitors after breakfast, all much excited, wondering what the next step would be—­if the Chambers would be dissolved, the marshal trying to impose a cabinet of the Right or perhaps form another moderate liberal cabinet without Jules Simon, but retaining some of his ministers.  It was my reception afternoon, and while I was sitting quietly in my drawing-room talking to some of my friends, making plans for the summer, quite pleased to have W. to myself again, the butler hurried into the room telling me that the Marechale de MacMahon was on the stairs, coming to make me a visit.  I was very much surprised, as she never came to see me.  We met very rarely, except on official occasions, and she made no secret of her dislike to the official Republican ladies (but she was always absolutely correct if not enthusiastic).  I had just time to get to the head of the stairs to receive her.  She was very amiable, a little embarrassed, took a cup of tea—­said the marshal was very sorry to part with W., he had never had any trouble or disagreement with him of any kind, but that it was impossible to go on with a cabinet when neither party had any confidence in the other.  I quite agreed, said it was the fortunes of war; I hoped the marshal would find another premier who would be more sympathetic with him, and then we talked of other things.

My friends were quite amused.  One of them, Marquise de T., knew the Marechale quite well, and said she was going to ask her if she was obliged to make visites de condoleance to the wives of all the fallen ministers.  W. was rather astonished when I told him who had come to tea with me, and thought the conversation must have been difficult.  I told him, not at all, once the necessary phrases about the departing ministers were over.  The piano was open, music littered about; she was fond of music and she admired very much a portrait of father as a boy in the Harrow dress, asked who it was and what the dress was.  She was a perfect woman of the world, and no one was uncomfortable.

It seemed quite strange and very pleasant to take up my old life again after two years of public life.  W. breakfasted at home, went to the Senate every day and to the Institute on Fridays and we dined with our friends and had small dinners in our own house instead of official banquets at all the ministries (usually from Potel and Chabot at so much a head).  Politics were very lively all summer.  The Chambers were dissolved almost at once after the constitution of the new cabinet, presided over by the Duc de Broglie.  It was evident from the first moment that the new ministry wouldn’t, couldn’t live. (The Duc de Broglie was quite aware of the fact.  His first words on taking office were:  “On nous a jetes a l’eau, maintenant il faut nager.”) He made a very good fight, but he had that worst of