d said to me a hundred times, 'I must
take you to see an exquisite creature who lives in Oxford Street,
number 277, Miss Howard.' One evening I went with him. It was the
twenty-second of February, 1848. The mistress of the house was really
marvelously beautiful, and the guests were charming. Besides
Malmesbury, I observed several acquaintances: Lord Clebden, Lord
Chesterfield, Sir Francis Mountjoye, Major in the Second Life Guards,
and Count d'Orsay. They played cards and then began to talk politics.
Events in France played the main part in the conversation and they
discussed endlessly the consequences of the revolt that had broken out
in Paris that same morning, in consequence of the interdiction of the
banquet in the 12th arrondissement, of which word had just been
received by telegram. Up to that time, I had never bothered myself
with public affairs. So I don't know what moved me to affirm with the
impetuosity of my nineteen years that the news from France meant the
Republic next day and the Empire the day after....

"The company received my sally with a discreet laugh, and their looks
were centered on a guest who made the fifth at a _bouillotte_ table
where they had just stopped playing.

"The guest smiled, too. He rose and came towards me. I observed that
he was of middle height, perhaps even shorter, buttoned tightly into a
blue frock coat, and that his eye had a far-off, dreamy look.

"All the players watched this scene with delighted amusement.

"'Whom have I the honor of addressing?' he asked in a very gentle
voice.

"'Count Bielowsky,' I answered coolly to show him that the difference
in our ages was not sufficient to justify the interrogation.

"Well, my dear Count, may your prediction indeed be realized; and I
hope that you will not neglect the Tuileries,' said the guest in the
blue coat, with a smile.

"And he added, finally consenting to present himself:

"'Prince Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte.'

"I played no active role in the _coup d'etat_, and I do not regret it.
It is a principle with me that a stranger should not meddle with the
internal affairs of a country. The prince understood this discretion,
and did not forget the young man who had been of such good omen to
him.

"I was one of the first whom he called to the Elysee. My fortune was
definitely established by a defamatory note on 'Napoleon the little.'
The next year, when Mgr. Sibour was out of the way, I was made
Gentleman of the Chamber,