Italian delegation, "The French are Italians; the Italians are French.
French and Italians ought to go to Africa together and found the United
States of Europe."

The red rays of twilight announced the oncoming night.

Those who saw them will never forget his grandiose funeral ceremonies,
that casket under the Arc de Triomphe, covered with a veil of crape,
and that immense crowd which paid homage to the greatest lyric poet of
the century.

There was a committee to make musical preparations and I was a member.
The most extraordinary ideas were proposed. One man wanted to have the
_Marseillaise_ in a minor key. Another wanted violins, for "violins
produce an excellent effect in the open air." Naturally we got nowhere.

The great procession started in perfect order, but, as in all long
processions, gaps occurred. I was astonished to find myself in the
middle of the Champs Elysées, in a wide open space, with no one near me
but Ferdinand de Lesseps, Paul Bert, and a member of the Académie, whose
name I shall not mention as he is worthy of all possible respect.

De Lesseps was then at the height of his glory, and from time to time
applause greeted him as he passed.

Suddenly the Academician leaned over and whispered in my ear,

"Evidently they are applauding us."