“Don’t listen to her, Mr. Ambassador,” exclaimed in turn, and also laughing, the third Parisian, “don’t listen to her; she is a terrible revolutionist!  The Count of Paris is not the heir to the throne of France.  To find the legitimate King you must go a little farther than Chiselhurst or Twickenham; you must go to Austria, to the Frohsdorf Palace.  The King of France—­he is the descendant of Henry IV.—­is the Count of Chambord.”

If I count aright, that makes three legitimate sovereigns, and all three deposed.  Never in China have we had anything of that sort.  Our old dynasty has had to fight against the invasions of the Mongols and against the insurrections of the Taipings.  But three legitimate sovereigns for the same country, for a single throne!  One has to come to Europe to see such things.

However, the three Parisians gayly discussed the matter, and seemed to be the best friends in the world.

LONDON, November 15, 1870.

As a sequel to the three Frenchwomen, representing three different monarchs, I met, this evening, at Lord Granville’s, three Frenchmen representing three different republics.

The first asked me why I didn’t go to Tours.

“You will find there,” he said to me, “the authorized representatives of the French Republic, and in addressing yourself to M. Gambetta you are addressing France—­”

“Don’t do that, Mr. Ambassador!” exclaimed the second Frenchman; “the real Government of the real French Republic is shut up in Paris.  M. Jules Favre alone can officially receive your visit and your apologies.”

“The Republic of Paris isn’t worth more than the Republic of Tours,” the third Frenchman then told me.  “If we have a Republic in France, it will be neither the Republic of M. Gambetta nor the Republic of M. Jules Favre.”

“And whose Republic then?”

“The Republic of M. Thiers—­”

Whereupon the three Frenchmen began to dispute in earnest.  They were very red, shouted loudly, and made violent gestures.  The discussion about the three monarchies had been much gentler and much more agreeable than the discussion about the three republics.

During the evening these Frenchmen managed to slip into my ear, in turn, two or three little phrases of this kind: 

“Don’t listen,” the first one said to me, “to that partisan of the Government of Paris; he is a lawyer who has come here with a commission from M. Jules Favre.  So you see he has a big salary, and as he wishes to keep it—­”

“Don’t listen,” the second one said to me, “to that partisan of the alleged Republic of M. Thiers; he is only a monarchist, a disguised Orleanist—­”

“Don’t listen,” the third one said to me, “to that partisan of the Republic of Tours; he is a gentleman who has come to England to get a loan for the benefit of the Government of Tours; so, as he expects to get a lot of money—­”

Thus I am, if I reckon correctly, face to face with six governments—­three monarchies and three republics.