I was invited to dine with a high public functionary. The hour was
half past five, and at the appointed time all were present. We
knew he liked exactness, and always scolded the dilatory.

I was amazed, when I came, at the consternation which pervaded the
party. People whispered together, and looked into the court-yard
through the window--all betokened something extraordinary.

I approached the one of the guests I thought best able to satisfy
my curiosity, and asked him what the news was.

"Alas!" said they, "Monsieur has been sent for to the Council of
State; he has just gone, and none know when he will return."

"Is that all!" said I. "Be of good cheer, we will be detained only
a quarter of an hour; something particular has happened. All know
to-day is his regular dinner, and we will not have to fast." I was
not, however, easy, and wished I was away.

The first hour passed well enough, and those who were intimate sat
together. Common places were exhausted, and conjectures were
formed as to what could have called the Prince to the Tuilleries

At the commencement of the second hour there were many signs of
impatience; people looked anxiously at each other and the first
who murmured were three or four guests who, finding no place to
sit in, were not in a convenient position to wait.

At the third hour, the discontent became general, and every
symptom became exaggerated. "When will he return?" said one. "What