eeded; for in less than five minutes the supper
made its appearance, and we took our places at the board.

The encomiums pronounced as each dish came and went satisfied me that
the feast was unexceptionable. As for myself, I ate away, only conscious
that I had never been so regaled before, and wondering within me how
far ingenuity had been exercised to produce the endless variety that
appeared at table. The wine, too, circulated freely; and Champagne,
Bordeaux, and Chambertin followed one another in succession, as the
different meats indicated the peculiar vintage. In the conversation
I could take no part,--it was entirely gastronomic; and no man ever
existed more ignorant of the seasons that promised well for truffles, or
the state of the atmosphere that threatened acidity to the vines.

"Well, Henri," said the prefet, when the dessert made its appearance,
and the time for concluding the gourmand dissertation seemed
arrived,--"well! and what news from the Tuileries?"

"Nothing--absolutely nothing," said he, carelessly,--"the same
people; the same topics; the eternal game of tric-trac with old Madame
d'Angerton; Denon tormenting some new victim with a mummy or a map of
Egypt; Madame Lefebvre relating camp anecdotes--"

"Ah, she is delightful!" interrupted the prefet.

"So thinks your chief, at least, Askoff," said De Beauvais, turning to
the Russian. "He sat on the sofa beside her for a good hour and a half."

"Who sat near him on the other side?" slyly asked the other.

"On the other side? I forget: no, I remember it was Monsieur de
Talleyrand and Madame Bonaparte. And, now I think of it, he must have
overheard what they said."

"Is it true, then, that Bonaparte insulted the English ambassador at the
reception? Askoff heard it as he left the Rue St. Honore."

"Perfectly true. The scene was a most outrageous one; and Lord Whitworth
retired, declaring to Talleyrand--at least, so they say--that without
an apology being made, he would abstain from any future visits at the
Tuileries."

"But what is to come of it?--tell me that. What is to be the result?"

"_Pardieu!_ I know not. A reconciliation to-morrow; an article in the
'Moniteur;' a dinner at the Court; and then another rupture, and another
article."

"Or a war," said the Russian, looking cautiously about, to see if his
opinion met any advocacy.

"What say you to that, mon ami?" said De Beauvais, turning to me. "Glad
enough, I suppose, you 'll be to win