I must confess, that, at first, my dignity was a little hurt at the idea of an exhibition of Americans; but a moment’s reflection convinced me that I had no grounds for offence, and all of a sudden it occurred to me that the “Americans” might be my friends of the Rue d’Anjou, whose “guide and interpreter,” though hardly their “friend,” had got them down as far as Siena on the general embassy.  I was resolved to see, and accordingly exchanging my dressing-gown and slippers for a dress-box costume, I accompanied my friend to the theatre.  My appearance at the pit-door was the signal for nods and beckonings from a dozen boxes; but as no one could dispute the superior claims of the Countess P——­, I soon found myself seated in the front of her Ladyship’s box, and the chief object of attention till the curtain rose.

“And now, my dear G——­, tell us all about these strange countrymen of yours,—­how they live,—­whether it is true that they eat one another,—­what kind of houses they have,—­how they treat their women,—­and everything else that we ought to know.”

Two or three years later, when Cooper began to be translated, they would have known better; but now nothing could convince them that I was not perfectly qualified to answer all their questions and stand interpreter between my countrymen and the audience.  Fortunately, I had read Irving’s beautiful paper in the “Sketch-Book,” and knew “The Last of the Mohicans” by heart; and putting together, as well as I could, the ideas of Indian life I had gained from these sources, I accomplished my task to the entire satisfaction of my interrogators.  At last the curtain rose, and, though reduced in number, and evidently much the worse for their protracted stay in the land of civilization and brandy, there they were, the very Osages I had seen at the good old General’s.  The interpreter came forward and told his story, making them chiefs of rank on a tour of pleasure.  And a burly-looking fellow, walking up and down the stage with an air that gave the lie to every assertion of the interpreter, made a speech in deep gutturals to the great delight of the listeners.  Fortunately for me, the Italian love of sound kept my companions still till the speech was ended, and then, just as they were turning to me for a translation, the interpreter announced his intention of translating it for them himself.  Nothing else, I verily believe, could have saved my reputation, and enabled me to retain my place as a native-born American.  When the exhibition was over,—­and even with the ludicrousness of my part of it, to me it was a sad one,—­I went behind the scenes to take a nearer view of these poor victims of avarice.  They were sitting round a warming-pan, looking jaded and worn, brutalized beyond even what I had first imagined.  It was my last sight of them, and I was glad of it; how far they went, and how many of them found their way back to their native land, I never was able to learn.

Before I left the Rue d’Anjou, it was arranged, that, as soon as I had seen a little more of Paris, I should go to La Grange.  “One of the young ladies will teach you French,” said the General, “and you can make your plans for the winter at your leisure.”