He didn’t in the least anticipate any trouble—­his principal reason for wanting the Parliament back was the loss of time, and also to get rid of the conversations in the train, which tired him very much.  He never could make himself heard without an effort, as his voice was low, had no “timbre,” and he didn’t hear his neighbours very well in the noise of the train.  He always arrived at the station at the last minute, and got into the last carriage, hoping to be undisturbed, and have a quiet half-hour with his papers, but he was rarely left alone.  If any deputy who wanted anything recognised him, he of course got in the same carriage, because he knew he was sure of a half-hour to state his case, as the minister couldn’t get away from him.  The Chambers met, after a short vacation in November, at last in Paris, and already there were so many interpellations announced on every possible subject, so many criticisms on the policy of the cabinet, and so many people wanting other people’s places, that the session promised to be very lively—­the Senate at the Palais du Luxembourg, the Deputies at the Palais Bourbon.

W. and I went over to the Luxembourg one morning early in October, to see the arrangements that had been made for the Senate.  He wanted too to choose his seat.  I hadn’t been there in the daytime for years—­I had dined once or twice at the Petit Palais with various presidents of the Senate, but my only impression was a very long drive (from the Barriere de l’Etoile where we lived) and fine high rooms with heavy gilt furniture and tapestries.  The palace was built by Maria de’ Medici, wife of Henri IV.  After the death of that very chivalrous but very undomestic monarch, she retired to the Luxembourg, and from there as regent (her son Louis XIII was only ten years old when his father died) for some years directed the policy of France under the guidance of her favourite, the Italian Concini, and his wife.

The palace recalls very much the Palazzo Pitti in Florence, with its solid masonry and rather severe heavy architecture.  It must have been a gloomy residence, notwithstanding the beautiful gardens with their broad alleys and great open spaces.  The gardens are stiff, very Italian, with statues, fountains, and marble balustrades—­not many flowers, except immediately around the palace, but they were flooded with sunshine that day, and the old grey pile seemed to rise out of a parterre of bright flowers.  The palace has been slightly modernised, but the general architecture remains the same.  Many people of all kinds have lived there since it was built—­several royal princes, and the Emperor Napoleon when he was First Consul.  He went from there to the Tuileries.  The Luxembourg Palace has always been associated with the history of France.  During the Revolution it was a prison, and many of the curious scenes one reads of at that period took place in those old walls—­the grandes dames so careful of their dress and their