money, racing, gambling, pretty women of all nationalities and facile character, beautifully dressed and covered with jewels, side by side with the bearers of some of the proudest names in France.  He said that just fifty years ago he went to Deauville with the Duc de Morny, Princesse Metternich, and the Comtesse de Pourteles to inaugurate the new watering-place, then of the simplest description.  The ladies were badly lodged in a so-called hotel and he had a room in a fisherman’s hut.

Marshal MacMahon had a house near Trouville that year, and he came over occasionally to see W., always on horseback and early in the morning.  W. used to struggle into his clothes when “M. le Marechal” was announced.  I think the marshal preferred his military title very much to his civic honours.  I suppose there never was so unwilling a president of a republic, except many years later Casimir Perier, who certainly hated the “prison of the Elysee,” but the marshal was a soldier, and his military discipline helped him through many difficult positions.  We had various visitors who came down for twenty-four hours—­one charming visit from the Marquis de Vogue, then French ambassador at Vienna, where he was very much liked, a persona grata in every way.  He was very tall, distinguished-looking, quite the type of the ambassador.  When I went to inspect his room I was rather struck by the shortness of the bed—­didn’t think his long legs could ever get into it.  The valet assured me it was all right, the bed was normal, but I doubt if he had a very comfortable night.  He and W. were old friends, had travelled in the East together and discussed every possible subject during long starlight nights in the desert.  They certainly never thought then that one day they would be closely associated as ambassador and foreign minister.  Vogue didn’t like the Republic, didn’t believe in the capacity or the sincerity of the Republicans—­couldn’t understand how W. could.  He was a personal friend of the marshal’s, remained at Vienna during the marshal’s presidency, but left with him, much to W.’s regret, who knew what good service he had done at Vienna and what a difficult post that would be for an improvised diplomatist.  It was then, and I fancy is still, one of the stiffest courts in Europe.  One hears amusing stories from some diplomatists of the rigid etiquette in court circles, which the Americans were always infringing.  A great friend of mine, an American, who had lived all her life abroad, and whose husband was a member of the diplomatic corps in Vienna, was always worrying over the misdemeanours of the Americans who never paid any attention to rules or court etiquette.  They invaded charmed circles, walked boldly up to archdukes and duchesses, talking to them cheerfully and easily without waiting to be spoken to, giving them a great deal of information upon all subjects, Austrian as well as American, and probably interested the very stiff Austrian royalties much more than the ordinary trained diplomatist, who