the Duc Decazes and his family were dining alone (which I don’t suppose they ever did, nor we either when we once took up our life).  Such a blaze of light met my eyes when I went to dinner that I was quite bewildered—­boudoir, billiard-room, dining-room (very large, the small round table for one person hardly perceptible), and corridors all lighted “a giorno.”  However, it looked very cheerful and kept me from feeling too dreadfully homesick for my own house and familiar surroundings.  The rooms were so high up that we didn’t hear the noise of the street, but the river looked alive and friendly with the lights on the bridges, and a few boats still running.

We had much more receiving and entertaining to do at the Quai d’Orsay than at any other ministry, and were obliged to go out much more ourselves.  The season in the official world begins with a reception at the President’s on New Year’s day.  The diplomatic corps and presidents of the Senate and Chamber go in state to the Elysee to pay their respects to the chief of state—­the ambassadors with all their staff in uniform in gala carriages.  It is a pretty sight, and there are always a good many people waiting in the Faubourg St. Honore to see the carriages.  The English carriage is always the best; they understand all the details of harness and livery so much better than any one else.  The marshal and his family were established at the Elysee.  It wasn’t possible for him to remain at Versailles—­he couldn’t be so far from Paris, where all sorts of questions were coming up every day, and he was obliged to receive deputations and reports, and see people of all kinds.  They were already agitating the question of the Parliament coming back to Paris.  The deputies generally were complaining of the loss of time and the discomfort of the daily journey even in the parliamentary train.  The Right generally was very much opposed to having the Chambers back in Paris.  I never could understand why.  I suppose they were afraid that a stormy sitting might lead to disturbances.  In the streets of a big city there is always a floating population ready to espouse violently any cause.  At Versailles one was away from any such danger, and, except immediately around the palace, there was nobody in the long, deserted avenues.  They often cited the United States, how no statesman after the signing of the Declaration of Independence (in Philadelphia) would have ventured to propose that the Parliament should sit in New York or Philadelphia, but the reason there was very different; they were obliged to make a neutral zone, something between the North and the South.  The District of Columbia is a thing apart, belonging to neither side.  It has certainly worked very well in America.  Washington is a fine city, with its splendid old trees and broad avenues.  It has a cachet of its own, is unlike any other city I know in the world.