for him. Being very rich
and as lavish as he was wealthy, few hotel proprietors scrupled to turn
out the whole of their guests at his steward's bidding and at a moment's
notice. Of course, people refused to put up with such cavalier
treatment; but as remonstrance was of no avail, they often brought
actions for damages, which they invariably gained, and were promptly
settled by Boniface, who merely added them to Prince Paul's bill. The
most comical part of the business, however, was that the prince as often
as not changed his mind on arriving at the hotel, and without as much as
alighting, continued his journey. The bill was never disputed. Another
of his manias was that his wife should wash her hands each time she
touched a metal object. For a while Princess Demidoff humoured her
husband, but she found this so terribly irksome that she at last decided
to wear gloves, and continued to do so long after her widowhood.

It must be obvious to the reader that this digression has little or no
_raison d'etre_, even in notes that do not profess to tell a succinct
story; but my purpose was to a certain extent to vindicate the character
of one of the most charming women of her time, who had the misfortune to
marry what was undoubtedly the most eccentric member of the family. I am
referring to Princess Anatole Demidoff, _nee_ Bonaparte, the daughter of
Jerome, and the sister of Plon-Plon.

To return to the Cafe de Paris and its _habitues_. First of all, the
place itself was unlike any other restaurant of that day, even unlike
its neighbour and rival, the Cafe Hardi, at the corner of the Rue
Laffitte, on the site of the present Maison d'Or. There was no undue
display of white and gold; and "the epicure was not constantly reminded
that, when in the act of eating, he was not much superior to the rest of
humanity," as Lord Palmerston put it when commenting upon the welcome
absence of mirrors. The rooms might have been transformed at a moment's
notice into private apartments for a very fastidious, refined family;
for, in addition to the tasteful and costly furniture, it was the only
establishment of its kind in Paris that was carpeted throughout, instead
of having merely sanded or even polished floors, as was the case even in
some of the best Paris restaurants as late as five and six years ago (I
mean in the seventies)--Bignon, the Cafe Foy, and the Lion d'Or, in the
Rue du Helder, excepted. The attendance was in every respect in thorou