_Paris, November 5, 1801._
I rise much later to-day than usual, in consequence of not having
gone to bed till near seven o'clock this morning. Happening to call
yesterday on a French lady of my acquaintance, I perceived some
preparations which announced that she expected company. She did not
leave me long in suspense, but invited me to her party for that
evening.
This good lady, who is no longer in the flower of her age, was still
in bed, though it was four o'clock when I paid my visit. On
expressing my fears that she was indisposed, she assured me of the
contrary, at the same time adding that she seldom rose till five in
the afternoon, on account of her being under the necessity of keeping
late hours. I was so struck by the expression, that I did not
hesitate to ask her what was the _necessity_ which compelled her to
make a practice of turning day into night? She very courteously gave
me a complete solution of this enigma, of which the following is the
substance.
"During the reign of terror," said she, "several of us _ci-devant
noblesse_ lost our nearest relatives, and with them our property,
which was either confiscated, or put under sequestration, so that we
were absolutely threatened by famine. When the prisoners were
massacred in September 1792, I left nothing unattempted to save the
life of my uncle and grandfather, who were both in confinement in the
_Abbaye_. All my efforts were unavailing. My interference served only
to exasperate their murderers and contributed, I fear, to accelerate
their death, which it was my misfortune to witness. Their inhuman
butchers, from whom I had patiently borne every species of insult,
went so far as to present to me, on the end of a pike, a human heart,
which had the appearance of having been broiled on the embers,
assuring me that, as it was the heart of my uncle, I might eat it
with safety."--Here an ejaculation, involuntarily escaping me,
interrupted her for a moment.
"For my part," continued she, "I was so overwhelmed by a conflict of
rage, despair, and grief, that I scarcely retained the use of my
senses. The excess of my horror deprived me of utterance.--What
little I was able to save from the wreck of my fortune, not affording
me sufficient means of subsistence, I was, however reluctantly, at
length compelled to adopt a plan of life, by which I saw other women,
in my forlorn situation, support a decent appearance. I therefore
hired suitable apartments, and twice in each decade, I receive
company. On one of these two nights I give a ball and supper, and on
the other, under the name of _société_, I have cards only.
"Having a numerous circle of female acquaintance," concluded she, "my
balls are generally well attended: those who are not fond of dancing,
play at the _bouillotte_; and the card-money defrays the expenses of
the entertainment, leaving me a handsome profit. In short, these six
parties, during the month, enable me to pay my rent, and produce me a
tolerable pittance."
This meloncholy recital affected me so much, that, on its being
terminated, I was unable to speak; but I have reason to think that a
favourable construction was put on my silence. A volume, of the size
of a family bible, would not be sufficient to display half the
contrasts engendered by the revolution. Many a _Marquise_ has been
obliged to turn sempstress, in order to gain a livelihood; but my
friend the _Comtesse_ had much ready wit, though no talents of that
description. Having soothed her mind by venting a few imprecations
against the murderers of her departed relatives, she informed me that
her company began to assemble between the hours of eleven and twelve,
and begged that I would not fail to come to her