ntion, the baroness and I. The new Minister, M.
Emile Ollivier, was presented to us; we received him coldly, as the
little baroness did not approve, I believe, of liberal reforms, and
looked for nothing good from them. We had a long chat on the window-seat
with the Marshal Leboeuf. The only topic during that interesting
conversation was the execution of Troppmann. It was the great event of
the week.

At two o'clock we left--the baroness, I, and the baron. For there was a
husband, who for the time being was crowded in the corner of the
carriage, and hidden under the mass of my skirts and of my train, which
was thrown back on him all in a heap.

"Confess, Edward," said the little baroness--confess that I was pretty
to-night."

"Very."

"And my dress?"

"Oh, charming!"

"You say that indolently, without spirit or enthusiasm. I know you
well. You think I've been extravagant. Well, indeed I haven't. Do you
know how much this dress cost me? Four hundred francs--not a centime
more."

We arrived home, which was a step from the Tuileries, in the Place
Vendome. The baron went to his rooms, the baroness to hers; and while
Hermance, the maid, cleverly and swiftly untied all my rosettes and took
out the pins, the little baroness kept repeating: "How becoming this
dress is to me! And I seem to become it, too. I shall wear it on
Thursday, Hermance, to go to the Austrian Embassy. Wait a minute, till I
see the effect of the butterfly in the back. Bring the lamp nearer;
nearer yet. Yes, that's it. Ah, how pretty it is! I am enchanted with
this dress, Hermance--really enchanted!"

If the little baroness was enchanted with me, I was equally enchanted
with the baroness. We two made the most tender, the most intimate, and
the most united of families. We comprehended, understood, and completed
each other so well. I had not to do with one of those mechanical
dolls--stupidly and brutally laced into a padded corset. Between the
little baroness and myself there was absolutely nothing but lace and
fine linen. We could confidentially and surely depend on one another.
The beauty of the little baroness was a real beauty, without garniture,
conjuring, or trickery.

So the following Thursday I went to the Austrian Embassy, and a week
later to the Princess Mathilde's. But, alas! the next morning the little
baroness said to her maid: "Hermance, take that dress to the reserve. I
love it, and I'd wear it every evening; but it has been seen
su