“My friend, Lord Malmesbury, had said to me a hundred times, ’I must take you to see an exquisite creature who lives in Oxford Street, number 277, Miss Howard.’  One evening I went with him.  It was the twenty-second of February, 1848.  The mistress of the house was really marvelously beautiful, and the guests were charming.  Besides Malmesbury, I observed several acquaintances:  Lord Clebden, Lord Chesterfield, Sir Francis Mountjoye, Major in the Second Life Guards, and Count d’Orsay.  They played cards and then began to talk politics.  Events in France played the main part in the conversation and they discussed endlessly the consequences of the revolt that had broken out in Paris that same morning, in consequence of the interdiction of the banquet in the 12th arrondissement, of which word had just been received by telegram.  Up to that time, I had never bothered myself with public affairs.  So I don’t know what moved me to affirm with the impetuosity of my nineteen years that the news from France meant the Republic next day and the Empire the day after....

“The company received my sally with a discreet laugh, and their looks were centered on a guest who made the fifth at a bouillotte table where they had just stopped playing.

“The guest smiled, too.  He rose and came towards me.  I observed that he was of middle height, perhaps even shorter, buttoned tightly into a blue frock coat, and that his eye had a far-off, dreamy look.

“All the players watched this scene with delighted amusement.

“‘Whom have I the honor of addressing?’ he asked in a very gentle voice.

“‘Count Bielowsky,’ I answered coolly to show him that the difference in our ages was not sufficient to justify the interrogation.

“Well, my dear Count, may your prediction indeed be realized; and I hope that you will not neglect the Tuileries,’ said the guest in the blue coat, with a smile.

“And he added, finally consenting to present himself: 

“‘Prince Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte.’

“I played no active role in the coup d’etat, and I do not regret it.  It is a principle with me that a stranger should not meddle with the internal affairs of a country.  The prince understood this discretion, and did not forget the young man who had been of such good omen to him.

“I was one of the first whom he called to the Elysee.  My fortune was definitely established by a defamatory note on ‘Napoleon the little.’  The next year, when Mgr.  Sibour was out of the way, I was made Gentleman of the Chamber, and the Emperor was even so kind as to have me marry the daughter of the Marshal Repeto, Duke of Mondovi.

“I have no scruple in announcing that this union was not what it should have been.  The Countess, who was ten years older than I, was crabbed and not particularly pretty.  Moreover, her family had insisted resolutely on a marriage portion.  Now I had nothing at this time except the twenty-five thousand pounds for my appointment as Gentleman of the Chamber.  A sad lot for anyone on intimate terms with the Count d’Orsay and the Duke of Gramont-Caderousse!  Without the kindness of the Emperor, where would I have been?