The mass is at ten o'clock on Sunday, and one meets in the grand salon
before going to the chapel.
Madame de Gallifet and I, being Protestants, were not expected; but, as we
wanted to go, we decided to don a black lace veil and follow the others.
The chapel is not large, but it is very richly decorated.
The Empress sat in a tribune facing the altar with a chosen few and her
_dames d'honneur_.
The Emperor was not present.
It seemed to me that the mass was very hurried and curtailed. The chorus
boys swung their censers nonchalantly, as though they were fanning
themselves; probably they were impatient for their breakfast.
The curé did not preach any sermon; he only made an exhortation against
the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, and told us that we had
better be prepared for death, as it might come at any moment. This was
nothing new; any one could have said it. He advised us to have our lamps
trimmed, for, when our time came we would be cut down like grass and
gathered in the garners. Perhaps he meant we ought to make our hay while
the sun was shining. I wondered to myself, if some of those old gentlemen
sinners who had sown so liberally would not be gathered in as oats. The
curé was going on to say that we should not indulge too freely in the good
things of this world; but pulled himself up in time, remembering, no
doubt, that he was going to breakfast, as he did every Sunday, at the
Imperial board and partake of its luxuries.
And before we knew it the mass was finished.
When we returned to the salon it was eleven o'clock, and every one was
assembled for _déjeuner_.
The Marquis d'Aoust happened to sit next to me at table (I say happened,
but I believe he manoeuvered so as to do so), and, taking me unawares
between two mouthfuls of _truites saumonées_, decoyed me into accepting a
stupendous proposition of his, which was to help him to get up an operetta
which he had had the courage to compose. He said the idea had just come
into his head; but I thought, for an impromptu idea, it was rather a ripe
one, as he had brought the music with him, and had already picked out
those he thought could help, and checked them off on his lean fingers. He
said the operetta had one act only, which I thought was fortunate, and
that it needed only four actors, which I thought was still more fortunate.
The next thing to be done, he said, was to get the singers' consent. I
should have said it was the first thing to be done; but he was so bubbling
over with enthusiasm that he was sure every one would jump at the chance
of taking part.
He seized the first moment after their Majesties had retired to pounce
upon those he had selected, and having obtained their consent he proposed
a walk in the long, so-called Treille or Berceau. Napoleon I. built this
walk, which is one thousand meters in length and reaches to the edge of
the forest, for the Queen Marie Louise. I must say I pitied her toes if
she walked there often on as cold a day as to-day; I know mine ached as we
paced to and fro while the Marquis explained the operetta. It was really
too cold to stay out-of-doors, and we turned back to the little salon,
called the _Salon Japonais_, to finish the séance there.
"What part am I to take?" asked Prince Metternich.
As he could not be anything else, he accepted the role of prompter, and
promised all the help he could give. When I went to the Empress's tea this
afternoon I took those questions Aunt M* sent me from America. You know
them. You have to write what your favorite virtues are, and if you were
not yourself, who you would like to be, and so forth.
I was glad to have something new and original which might amuse people.
The Empress, seeing the papers in my hand, asked me what they were. I told
her that they were some questions: a new intellectual pastime just
invented in America.
"Do they invent intellectual pastimes in America?" she asked, looking at
me with a smile. "I thought they only invented money-making."
"They do that, too," I replied; "but they have also invented these
questions, which probe the mind to the marrow and unveil the soul."
She laughed and said, "Do you wish me to unveil my soul, _comme cela, à
l'improviste_?"
I answered, "Perhaps your Majesty will look at them at your leisure. I
hardly dare to ask the Emperor; but if he would also look at them I should
be so happy."
"Leave them with me, and to-morrow we will see; in any case my soul is not
prepared to-day."
So I left the papers with her.
It is the fashion this year for ladies to wear lockets on a black-velvet
ribbon around their necks. The more lockets you can collect and wear, the
finer you are. Each locket represents an event, such as a birthday, a bet,
an anniversary of any kind, and so forth. Any excuse is good for the
sending of a locket. The Empress had seventeen beautiful ones to-day (I
counted them). They have a rather cannibalish look, I think. Is it not in
Hayti (or in which country is it?) that the black citizens wear their
rivals' teeth as trophies on their black necks?
Who should offer me his arm for dinner to night but Prosper Mérimée, the
lion of lions, the pampered poet, who entrances all those who listen to
him whenever he opens his lips.
He looks more like an Englishman than a Frenchman; he is quite old, and I
fancy older than he looks (he may be fifty). He is tall and _dégagé_, with
a nice smile and pleasant eyes, though sometimes he gives you a sharp and
suspicious glance. He speaks English very well. I told him (stretching
a point) that I had never heard a foreigner speak such good English as he
did.
He replied, without a blush: "I ought to speak it well. I learned it when
I was a child." And he added, complacently, "I can even write better than
I speak."