d-twenty."

Nothing could be more easy or familiar than the tone of
conversation,--that happy pleasantry that tickles but never wounds, so
unlike the English propensity for "quizzing "--that vulgar version
of Gallic "badinage;" and then how eloquent, without pedantry, how
sparkling, and how suggestive! Ah, my kind reader, I see the rippling
smile over the broad Atlantic of your countenance. You have guessed all
the secret of my enthusiasm, and you know the mystery of my admiration.
Be it so; I am ready to confess all. It was my own success that made
the chief enchantment of the scene. I was the lion of the evening. Not
a theme on which I did not hold forth, not a subject I did not
discuss,--politics, bull-fighting, cookery, dress, literature, duelling.
the ballet, horse-racing, play, scandal, naval tactics, colonization,
cotton-spinning, music, railroads, and the "dry-rot." I was profound,
playful, serious, jocose, instructive, and amusing by turns. Madmlle. de
la Bourdonaye, the first actress of the "Francais," was charmed with my
dramatic criticism; the poet--enthusiastic at my recital of a stanza
of his own; the general pronounced me the very best judge of cavalry
evolutions he had ever met; the great painter begged the favor of a
visit from me at his studio; and the Prince's aide-de-camp--himself a
distinguished soldier--told me, in a whisper, to hold myself disengaged
for the following Wednesday.

These were, after all, but the precursors of greater triumphs in the
drawing-room, where I played and sang several Mexican ballads; danced
the Bollero with Madmlle. Rose Jasmin, of the Grand Opera; and lassoed
a Mount St. Bernard mastiff with the bell-rope. After this, beat the
statesman at chess; rolled up Indian cigarettes for the ladies, whom
I taught to sit squaw fashion; told various anecdotes of my prairie
adventures; and wound up all by concocting a bowl of "ponch a
l'Americaine," at once the astonishment and the delight of all. I must
not suffer myself to dwell longer on this theme, nor speak of that
supper, with its champagne and culerabourgs, its lyrics and its lobster
salads, with ortolans, epigrams, seductive smiles, and maraschino jelly.
Enough. The orgies--for it was no less--lasted till nigh morning; and
when we arose from table, a pale streak of coming day was struggling
between the margins of the curtains.

"His Royal Highness will set you down, Mons. de Corneille," said the
aide-de-camp, advancing to