Like most of the salons of the new aristocracy, Madame Lacostellerie received people of every section of party and every class of political opinion. Standing equally aloof from the old régime and the members of the Jacobin party, her receptions were a kind of neutral territory, where each could come without compromise of dignity: for already, except among the most starched adherents of the Bourbons, few of whom remained in France, there was a growing spirit to side with the Napoleonists in preference to the revolutionary section; while the latter, with all their pretensions to simplicity and primitive tastes, felt no little pride in mixing with the very aristocracy they so loudly inveighed against. Besides all this, wealth had its prestige. Never, in the palmiest days of the royalty, were entertainments of greater splendor; and the Legitimists, however disposed to be critical on the company, could afford to be just regarding the cuisine,—the luxury of these modern dinners eclipsing the most costly displays of former times, where hereditary rank and ancient nobility contributed to adorn the scene. And, lastly, the admixture of every grade and class extended the field of conversational agreeability, throwing in new elements and eliciting new features in a society where peers, actors, poets, bankers, painters, soldiers, speculators, journalists, and adventurers were confusedly mixed together; making, as it were, a common fund of their principles and their prejudices, and starting anew in life with what they could seize in the scramble.
After following the long line of carriages for above an hour, we at last turned into a large courtyard, lit up almost to the brightness of day. Here the equipages of many of the ministers were standing,—a privilege accorded to them above the other guests. I recognized among the number the splendid liveries of Decrès; and the stately carriage of Talleyrand, whose household always proclaimed itself as belonging to a “seigneur” of the oldest blood of France,—the most perfect type of a highbred gentleman. Our progress from the vestibule to the stairs was a slow one. The double current of those pressing upwards and downwards delayed us long; and at last we reached a spacious antechamber, where even greater numbers stood awaiting their turn, if happily it should come, to move forward.
While here, the names of those announced conveyed tous a fair impression of the whole company. Among the first was Le General Junot, Berthollet (the celebrated chemist), Lafayette, Monges, Daru, Comte de Mailles (a Legitimist noble), David (the regicide), the Ambassador of Prussia, M. Pasquier, Talma. Such were the names we heard following in quick succession; when suddenly an avenue was opened by a master of the ceremonies before me, who read from my card the words, “Le Capitaine Burke, officier d'élite; le Chevalier Duchesne, présenté par lui.” And advancing within the doorway, I found myself opposite a very handsome woman, whose brilliant dress and blaze of diamonds concealed any ravages time might have made upon her beauty.
She was conversing with the Arch-Chancellor, Cambacérès, when my name was announced; and turning rapidly round, touched my arm with her bouquet, as she said, with a most gracious smile,—
“I am but too much flattered to see you on so short an invitation; but M. de Tascher's note led me to hope I might presume so far. Your friend, I believe?”
“I have taken the great liberty—”
“Indeed, Madame la Comtesse,” said Duchesne, interrupting, “I must exculpate my friend here. This intrusion rests on my own head, and has no other apology than my long cherished wish to pay my homage to the most distinguished ornament of the Parisian world.”
As he spoke, the quiet flow of his words, and the low deferential bow with which he accompanied them, completely divested his speech of its tone of gross flattery, and merely made it seem a very fitting and appropriate expression.
“This would be a very high compliment, indeed,” replied Madame de Lacostellerie, with a flush of evident pleasure on her cheek, “had it even come from one less known than the Chevalier Duchesne. I hope the Duchesse de Montserrat is well,—your aunt, if I mistake not?” “Yes, Madame,” said he, “in excellent health; it will afford her great pleasure when I inform her of your polite inquiry.”
Another announcement now compelled us to follow the current in front, which I was well content to do, and escape from an interchange of fine speeches, of whose sincerity, on one side at least, I had very strong misgivings.