maitresse de Rochefort."

All Europe was engrossed with the question of the Pope's successor.
Intrigues and undercurrents were going on hard in Rome, and the issue of
the conclave was impatiently awaited. No one could predict any result.
The election of Cardinal Pecci, future Leo XIII, seemed satisfactory, at
least in the beginning.

My winter passed pleasantly enough; I began to feel more at home in my
new quarters, and saw many interesting people of all kinds. Every now
and then there would be a very lively debate in the Parliament. W. would
come home very late, saying things couldn't go on like that, and we
would surely be out of office in a few weeks. We always kept our house
in the rue Dumont d'Urville, and I went over every week, often thinking
that in a few days we should be back there again.

One of my great trials was a reception day. W. thought I ought to have
one, so every Friday I was at home from three until six, and very long
afternoons they were. I insisted upon having a tea-table, which was a
novelty in those days, but it broke the stiff semicircle of red and gold
armchairs carefully arranged at one end of the room. Very few men took
tea. It was rather amusing to see some of the deputies who didn't
exactly like to refuse a cup of tea offered to them by the minister's
wife, holding the cup and saucer most carefully in their hands, making a
pretence of sipping the tea and replacing it hastily on the table as
soon as it was possible. I had of course a great many people of
different nationalities, who generally didn't know each other. The
ambassadresses and ministers' wives sat on each side of my sofa--the
smaller people lower down. They were all announced, my huissier, Gerard,
doing it very well, opening the big doors and roaring out the names.