Sometimes, at the end of the day, some of my own friends or some of the
young men from the chancery would come in, and that would cheer me up a
little. There was no conversation, merely an exchange of formal phrases,
but I had some funny experiences.

One day I had several ladies whom I didn't know at all, wives of
deputies, or small functionaries at some of the ministries. One of my
friends, Comtesse de B., was starting for Italy and Rome for the first
time. She had come to ask me all sorts of questions about clothes,
hotels, people to see, etc. When she went away in a whirl of
preparations and addresses, I turned to one of my neighbours, saying:
"Je crois qu'on est tres bien a l'Hotel de Londres a Rome," quite an
insignificant and inoffensive remark--merely to say something. She
replied haughtily: "Je n'en sais rien, Madame; je n'ai jamais quitte
Paris et je m'en vante." I was so astonished that I had nothing to say,
but was afterward sorry that I had not continued the conversation and
asked her why she was so especially proud of never having left Paris.
Travelling is usually supposed to enlarge one's ideas. Her answer might
have been interesting. W. wouldn't believe it when I told him, but I
said I couldn't really have invented it. I used to go into his cabinet
at the end of the day always, when he was alone with Pontecoulant, and
tell them all my experiences which W. forbid me to mention anywhere
else. I had a good many surprises, but soon learned never to be
astonished and to take everything as a matter of course.

The great interest of the summer was the Exposition Universelle which
was to take place at the Trocadero, the new building which had been
built on the Champ de Mars. The opening was announced for the 1st of May
and was to be performed with great pomp by the marshal. All Europe was
represented except Germany, and almost all the great powers were sending