en Amelie was tall,
thin, and very fair, not pretty, but infinitely more regal than
Adelaide, Queen of England, at that time. The Royal Family used to walk
about in the streets of Paris without any attendants.

Sir Sydney Smith was still in Paris trying to renew the order of the
Knights Templars. Somerville and I went with him one evening to a
reception at the Duchesse d'Abrantes, widow of Junot. She was short,
thick, and not in the least distinguished-looking, nor in any way
remarkable. I had met her at the Duchesse de Broglie's, where she talked
of Junot as if he had been in the next room. Sir Sydney was quite
covered with stars and crosses, and I was amused with the way he threw
his cloak back to display them as he handed me to the carriage.

I met with Prince Kosloffsky everywhere; he was the fattest man I ever
saw, a perfect Falstaff. However, his intellect was not smothered, for
he would sit an hour with me talking about mathematics, astronomy,
philosophy, and what not. He was banished from Russia, and as he had
been speaking imprudently about politics in Paris, he was ordered to go
elsewhere; still, he lingered on, and was with me one morning when Pozzo
di Borgo, the Russian Ambassador called. Pozzo di Borgo said to me, "Are
you aware that Prince Kosloffsky has left Paris?" "Oh yes," I said, "I
regret it much." He took the hint, and went away directly.

I had hitherto been entirely among the Liberal set. How it came that I
was invited to dine with M. Hericourt de Thury, I do not remember. M. de
Thury was simple in his manners, and full of information; he had been
Director of the Mines under Napoleon, and had charge of the Public
Buildings under Louis XVIII. and Charles X., but resigned his charges at
the Revolution of July. At this time the Duchesse de Berry was confined
in the citadel of Blaye. She had a strong party in Paris, who furiously
resented the treatment she met with. M. de Thury was a moderate
Legitimiste, but Madame was ultra. When I happened to mention that we
had been staying with Lafayette, at La Grange, she was horrified, and
begged of me not to talk politics, or mention where we had been, or else
some of her guests would leave the room. The ladies of that party would
not dance or go to any gay party; they had a part of the theatre
reserved for themselves; they wore high dark dresses with long sleeves,
called "Robes de Resistance," and even the Legitimiste newspapers
appeared with black edges. T