former government. I remember one of my first visits to a well-known
Legitimist countess in the Faubourg St. Germain; I went on her reception
day, a thing all young women are most particular about in Paris. I found
her with a circle of ladies sitting around her, none of whom I knew.
They were all very civil, only I was astonished at the way the mistress
of the house mentioned my name every time she spoke to me: "Madame
Waddington, etes-vous allee a l'Opera hier soir," "Madame Waddington,
vous montez a cheval tous les matins, je crois," "Monsieur Waddington va
tous les vendredis a l'Institut, il me semble," etc. I was rather
surprised and said to W. when I got home, "How curious it is, that way
of saying one's name all the time; I suppose it is an old-fashioned
French custom. Madame de B. must have said 'Waddington' twenty times
during my rather short visit." He was much amused. "Don't you know why?
So that all the people might know who you were and not say awful things
about the 'infecte gouvernement' and the Republic, 'which no gentleman
could serve.'"

[Footnote 1: "W.," here and throughout this book, refers to Madame
Waddington's husband, M. William Waddington.]

[Illustration: Monsieur Theirs.]

The position of the German Embassy in Paris was very difficult, and
unfortunately their first ambassador after the war, Count Arnim, didn't
understand (perhaps didn't care to) how difficult it was for a
high-spirited nation, which until then had always ranked as a great
military power, to accept her humiliation and be just to the victorious
adversary. Arnim was an unfortunate appointment--not at all the man for
such a delicate situation. We had known him in Rome in the old days of
Pio Nono's reign, where he had a great position as Prussian minister to