very distinguished position, were the fashion in
Paris, and were invited to private gatherings. I remember on one
occasion, at one of these breakfasts of Eugene's, Thiemet called by their
names several persons present, imitating the voices of their servants, as
if they were just outside the door, while he remained quietly in his
seat, appearing to be using his lips only to eat and drink, two duties'
which he performed admirably. Each of the officers called in this manner
went out, and found no one; and then Thiemet went out with them, under
the pretext of assisting them in the search, and increased their
perplexity by continuing to make them hear some well-known voice. Most
of them laughed heartily at the joke of which they had just been the
victims; but there was one who, having himself less under control than
his comrades, took the thing seriously, and became very angry, whereupon
Eugene had to avow that he was the author of the conspiracy.

I recall still another amusing scene, the two heroes of which were this
same Thiemet, of whom I have just spoken, and Dugazon. Several
foreigners were present at a breakfast given by Eugene, the parts having
been assigned, and learned in advance, and the two victims selected.
When each had taken his place at table, Dugazon, pretending to stammer,
addressed a remark to Thiemet, who, playing the same role, replied to
him, stammering likewise; then each of them pretended to believe that the
other was making fun of him, and there followed a stuttering quarrel
between the two parties, each one finding it more and more difficult to
express himself as his anger rose. Thiemet, who besides his role of
stammering was also playing that of deafness, addressed his neighbor, his
trumpet in his ear:

"Wha-wha-what-do-does he say?"--"Nothing," replied the officious
neighbor, wishing to prevent a quarrel, and to supply facts while
defending the other stammerer.--"So-so-he-he-he-he's mamaking fun of me!"
Then the quarrel became more violent still; they were about to come to
blows, when each of the two stammerers seizing a carafe of water, hurled
it at the head of his antagonist, and a copious deluge of water from the
bottles taught the officious neighbors the great danger of acting as
peacemakers. The two stammerers continued to scream as is the custom of
deaf persons, until the last drop of water was spilt; and I remember that
Eugene, the originator of this practical joke, laughed immoderately the