o'clock the rooms were quite full. Every one was announced, and it was
most interesting to hear the names of all the celebrities in every
branch of art and science. It was only a fleeting impression, as the
guests merely spoke to me at the door and passed on. In those days,
hardly any one shook hands unless they were fairly intimate--the men
never. They made me low bows some distance off and rarely stopped to
exchange a few words with me. Some of the women, not many, shook hands.
It was a fatiguing evening, as I stood so long, and a procession of
strangers passed before me. The receptions finished early--every one had
gone by eleven o'clock except a few loiterers at the buffet. There are
always a certain number of people at the big official receptions whose
principal object in coming seems to be to make a comfortable meal. The
servants always told me there was nothing left after a big party. There
were no invitations--the reception was announced in the papers, so any
one who felt he had the slightest claim upon the minister appeared at
the party. Some of the dresses were funny, but there was nothing
eccentric--no women in hats, carrying babies in their arms, such as one
used to see in the old days in America at the President's reception at
the White House, Washington--some very simple black silk dresses hardly
low--and of course a great many pretty women very well dressed. Some of
my American friends often came with true American curiosity, wanting to
see a phase of French life which was quite novel to them.

W. remained two years as Minister of Public Instruction, and my life
became at once very interesting, very full. We didn't live at the
ministry--it was not really necessary. All the work was over before
dinner, except the "signatures," which W. could do just as well in his
library at home. We went over and inspected the Hotel du Ministere in
the rue de Grenelle before we made our final decision, but it was not
really tempting. There were fine reception-rooms and a pretty garden,