A mild, half-playful argument followed in the course of which my
guardian, I thought, was not quite as uncompromising in his criticism as
he was when surrounded by those who shared his own opinions. But the
duke was very affable, and the duchess was in truth charming, with her
Northern beauty, her delicate high-bred features, and her wealth of
blond hair. No wonder if he could not be stern.

It was the first time that I had met the man whose influence then ruled
over the destinies of France and Mexico, and the incident naturally
impressed itself upon my memory. Upon my arrival in Mexico, where I
found men puzzling over the extraordinary lack of concert between the
allied invaders, which baffled their understanding, I remembered those
words of the Duc de Morny, uttered even before a suitable pretext had
been furnished General de Lorencez for breaking through the preliminary
treaty of La Soledad, and, of course, before the news of the final
rupture between France, England, and Spain could possibly have reached
Europe. M. de Lorencez, it is now known, had gone to Mexico with ORDERS
to march without delay upon the capital.

The Gare d'Orleans presented a scene of more than usual animation when,
on the morning of the thirteenth day of April, 1862, our fiacre landed
us at its entrance, en route for St. Nazaire. The Compagnie
Transatlantique, formed by the house of Pereire, was giving a grand
inaugural banquet to celebrate the opening of the new line of steamers
that was to carry passengers direct from France to Mexico. The Louisiane
was to sail on her first trip on the following day. A special train was
on the track awaiting the distinguished guests of the company, and it is
safe to say that two thirds of the celebrities of the day in the world
of finance, of politics, and of journalism were gathering upon the
platform.