places and people I knew, and before I was aware of it I
found myself spinning out lengthy tales. I should have much
preferred she do the talking.

[Illustration:
JULES MASSENET AT THE HEIGHT OF HIS CAREER
From an autographed photograph taken in 1894.]

The Empress Eugenie is now here. And fancy! living at the Hotel
Continental, right opposite the gardens of the Tuileries. I have
not seen her for six years (since Cap-Martin). Baron Petri, who
always accompanies her, answered my note asking if I might come to
see her, saying that the Empress would receive me with pleasure.
You may imagine my emotion at seeing her again. I found her seated
at the window facing the Tuileries. How could she bear to be so
near her old home? As if reading my thoughts, she said: "You
wonder that I came here to this hotel. It is very sad. There are
so many memories. But it seems to bring me nearer _mon fils bien
aime_. I have him always before me. My poor Louis! I can see him
as a little boy, when he used to drive out in his carriage, always
surrounded by the _cent gardes_." She told me of the terrible
journey she had made to South Africa. She had wished to go over
the same route that the Prince had taken on his way to Zululand.
How dreadful it must have been for her! Can one imagine anything
more tragic? Her only child, whom she loved beyond anything in the
world, whom she hoped to see on the throne! The future monarch of
France! a Napoleon! to be killed by a few Zulus, in a war not in
any way connected with France. The Empress appeared weighed down
with grief; nevertheless, she seemed to like to talk with me. I
wish I could have heard more, but the arrival of the Princess
Mathilde interrupted us, and I left.

The papal _nonce_ (Ambassador of the Pope) had his official
reception last week in his hotel, rue Legendre, which is far too
small to hold all the people who went there. All Paris, in fact.
No one is invited to these receptions, but every one thinks it a
duty and a politeness to attend; consequently, there are a great
number of people who walk in, are presented, and walk out.

The _nonce_ is a charming man, simple in his manner, kind and
gentle. I felt very proud the other evening to be on his arm after
the dinner at the Minister of Foreign Affair's, and walk about
with him. When we passed by some of the unclothed Dianas and
Venuses the dear old man held up his hand to cover his eyes: "_Non
devo guardare!_" Nevertheless I caught h