met Mrs. Evans, wife of the well-known dentist, who, in
1870, aided the escape of the Empress Eugenie. Mrs. Evans wore in her
hair a diamond necklace, said to have been given to her by the Empress.

I found in Paris a number of young women, students of art and medicine,
who appeared to lead very isolated lives and to have little or no
acquaintance with one another. The need of a point of social union for
these young people appearing to me very great, I invited a few of them
to meet me at my lodgings. After some discussion we succeeded in
organizing a small club which, I am told, still exists.

Marshal MacMahon was at this time President of the French republic. I
attended an evening reception given by him in honor of General and Mrs.
Grant. Our host was supposed to be the head of the Bonapartist faction,
and I heard some rumors of an intended _coup d'etat_ which should bring
back imperialism and place Plon-Plon[4] on the throne. This was not to
be. The legitimist party held the Imperialists in check, and the
Republicans were strong enough to hold their own.

[Footnote 4: The nickname for Prince Napoleon.]

I remember Marshal MacMahon as a man of medium height, with no very
distinguishing feature. He was dressed in uniform and wore many
decorations.

We passed on to Italy. Soon after my arrival in Florence I was asked to
speak on suffrage at the _Circolo Filologico_, one of the favorite halls
of the city. The attendance was very large. I made my argument in
French, and when it was ended a dear old-fashioned conservative in the
gallery stood up to speak, and told off all the counter pleas with which
suffragists are familiar,--the loss of womanly grace, the neglect of
house and family, etc. When he had finished speaking a charming Italian
matron, still young and handsome, sprang forward and took me by the
hand, saying, "I feel to take the hand of this sister from America."
Cordial applause followed this and I was glad to hear my new friend
respond with much grace to our crabbed opponent in the gallery. The
sympathy of the audience was evidently with us.

A morning visit to the Princess Belgioiosa may deserve a passing
mention. This lady was originally Princess Ghika, of a noble Roumanian
family. She had married a Russian--Count Murherstsky. I never knew the
origin of the Italian title. My dear friend, Mrs. Ednah D. Cheney, went
with me to the princess's villa, which was at some distance from the
city proper. Although