i, monsieur; refusez lui,
pour l'amour du ciel et de la musique," she said aloud: and the Emperor
himself could not help smiling at the well-deserved rebuke. "Madame," he
replied, "if ever I am reduced to such a strait, I will take you into
partnership: I will make you sing, and I will collect the pence." In
spite of his musical deficiencies the Emperor was right; the lady was
Madame Conneau, who had and has still one of the most beautiful voices
ever heard on the professional or amateur stage.

On the first day following that of the arrival of the guests, there was
a shooting-party, or, rather, there were two--one in the home park for
the Emperor himself, who was not a bad shot, and a dozen of the more
important personages; another in the forest. Those who did not care for
sport were at liberty to remain with the ladies, who, under the
direction of the Empress, proceeded to the lawn. Croquet, as far as I
know, had not been invented then, but archery lent itself to posing and
flirtation quite as well, and the costumes worn on such occasions were
truly a sight for the gods.

On the evening of that day, there was a performance in the theatre,
built for the express purpose by Louis-Philippe, but which had been
considerably embellished since. The companies of the Comedie-Francaise,
the Odeon, the Gymnase, the Vaudeville, and the Palais-Royal took it in
turns. Only the members of the Comedie-Francaise had the privilege of
paying their respects in the Imperial box. It was during one of the
performances of the Gymnase company that the following amusing incident
occurred. They were playing "Le Fils de Famille" of Bayard and De
Bieville,[64] and the Emperor was strolling in the lobbies before the
performance, when he noticed an old colonel of lancers, whom he did not
remember to have seen among the guests during the daytime, but who
seemed perfectly at home. He had not even donned his full regimentals.

[Footnote 64: Known on the English stage as the "Queen's
Shilling," by Mr. Godfrey.--EDITOR.]

"Voila un vrai, beau militaire," said the sovereign to one of his
aides-de-camp; "allez demander son nom."

The aide-de-camp returned in a moment. "Il s'appelle Lafontaine, sire;
et il appartient au regiment du Gymnase."

"Comment, au regiment du Gymnase?"

"Mais oui, sire; c'est Lafontaine, le comedien."

In fact, the assumption was so thoroughly realistic, that even a better
judge than Louis-Napoleon might h