Part 30

The table was arranged most appropriately for the occasion, decorated by the whole biscuit de Sèvres service de chasse. Every one seemed gay and stimulated by the excitement of the day.

When the usual after-dinner ceremonies and the cercle in the salon were terminated, the Grand Chamberlain announced to his Majesty that all was ready for the curée, which was awaiting his permission to begin.

The Emperor and the Empress led the way into the long gallery, which overlooks the cour d'honneur. We ladies had provided ourselves with wraps and shawls, as we knew we should need them either on the balcony or at the windows of the gallery, of which there are about twenty.

The Empress braved the weather and stood out on the balcony with the Emperor, well wrapped in furs, for the night was cold; and the gentlemen, not finding sufficient room, went below and stood on the steps of the "Perron," which gives on to the courtyard.

All the lackeys, valets, grooms, in fact, all the household servants, formed a large circle in the enormous cour d'honneur opposite the Imperial balcony, all bearing flaming torches made of tar, which lighted up the whole place. Behind these stood the populace of Compiègne, who are allowed to be present on these occasions.

At the farther side of the courtyard, and directly opposite their Majesties, the chief huntsman held up the skin of the stag, which contained the entrails, waving it backward and forward, in order to excite the hounds. The piqueurs stood in front of the "Perron," holding the dogs back with great difficulty, for they were struggling to get loose, and yelping in their eagerness and greediness to rush forward.

As the chasseur waved the skin, the piqueurs let the hounds loose, and when they were half-way across the court, approaching the object of their desire, the piqueurs called them back, in order to show how well disciplined and under what complete control they were.

The tantalizing of the poor animals was repeated several times. At last the fanfare was sounded, and the hounds were allowed to rush forward midst the tooting of horns, the cracking of whips, and the cries and shouts of the crowd. The torches were waved high in the air, giving a weird light to the whole scene, and the entrails at last were thrown to the dogs, and before you could say "Jack Robinson" everything was devoured. You can picture to yourself what a unique and fantastic sight this must have been!

It was eleven o'clock when we returned to the salon, where tea and refreshments were served. Those returning to Paris took leave of their Majesties and drove to the station, where the special Imperial train provided for them was waiting.

Later their Majesties took leave of us.

We lingered a little, as it was our last evening.

On returning to my apartment, I saw on my table a package, on which was written, De la part de l'Empereur. You can imagine how eager I was to open it. Those magic words brought untold visions before my eyes. What might it not be?

I opened the package feverishly, and what was my surprise and disappointment to find a rather ordinary-looking tabatière and a package of tobacco, written on it, Du bon tabac pour le maître de chant de Madame Moulton.

Was it not a cruel blow?

November 30th.

Here we are again in Paris, glad to be at home after our gay week in Compiègne, charming and delightful as it was; there is always great fatigue and tension attending such visits. To-day I luxuriate in one dress; no changing five times a day. I allowed my maid to go out for the day, and we are going to dine at a restaurant.... What a contrast! It seems as if I had been away a month!

Before we left Compiègne yesterday, when we were taking our morning tea, we were interrupted by the coming in of the majordomo, who handed us a paper. We were not unprepared for this visit, as we had been told by one of the guests, who had been here before, that every one was expected to remain in their rooms until this important personage had made his rounds, in order to collect the pourboire. I say THE pourboire, because what one generally gives separately is lumped into one sum. This paper, which he handed to us almost at the point of his hallebarde, proved to be a già scritto receipt for six hundred francs--our pourboire!

During breakfast yesterday the Emperor took up his glass, and, looking at me across the table, drank my health. Among the guests there was a great deal of health-drinking.

Gustave Doré had made some very clever caricatures of some events which he had drawn beautifully and touched off with aquarelle, as he alone could do it. The little album was passed stealthily from hand to hand under the shelter of the table, with the strictest injunctions not to let any one see it except your immediate neighbor! With these injunctions it managed to travel about half-way down the table.

He had made a lovely sketch of her Majesty driving a chariot like the "Aurora" in the Rospigliosi Gallery, and had depicted the Emperor seated on an enormous white horse, leading a charge of cavalry, his arm uplifted.

The Princess Metternich was represented as the coachman in the charade, hat on one side, pipe in her mouth, and looking very débonnaire. Prince Metternich was shown standing in the middle of an arena, in full diplomatic uniform, with masses of decorations and cordons. He had a long whip, such as are used in circuses, and men and women (meaning us, I suppose) capering around doing their tricks.

The sketch of Madame de Persigny was very funny. A mass of tulle petticoats, in the midst of which two little feet in the air, and a crown rolling away in the distance.

The picture he made of me was the mechanical doll, ribbons floating all about, and on every turn of the ribbons was written "Beware!"

The diplomat's shoe was not forgotten. There was a table a mile long, and at the very end of it a little shoe seen underneath.

We were in our traveling costumes, and on our return to the salon their Majesties went about saying pleasant and gracious things to every one. They hoped we would remember our visit with as much pleasure as they would, etc.

There was a greater animation than usual, and less ceremony; people talked louder and with less restraint; every one bade good-by to the ladies and gentlemen of the Household who remained. The Empress gave her hand to be kissed by the gentlemen (some of them, not all), kissed some ladies, and shook hands with others.

When their Majesties were ready to dismiss us they bowed, and we all departed to get our hats and wraps,

I gave a lingering look at the lovely rooms I was leaving, which were now devoid of our trunks and little personal trinkets, nodded a farewell to our particular valet, who was probably thinking already of our successors, descended l'Escalier d'honneur, and passed through the beautiful Galerie des Gardes to the colonnades, where the chars-à-bancs were ready waiting to carry us to the station. We were a rather subdued party in the train; the conversation mostly turned on the subject of pourboires. The huissier decides the exact amount that each ought to give. For instance, he knows an ambassador ought to give two thousand francs. For a minister of state one thousand francs suffices. Unofficial people like ourselves cannot be expected to be out of pocket more than six hundred francs. As for the poor nobility of France, they escape with five hundred!