The ball of the plébiscite was the most splendid thing I ever saw. The architects and decorators had outdone themselves. The gardens of the Tuileries beyond the fountain had been hedged in by orange-trees, and other large trees moved there in their tubs. The whole parterre of flowers was festooned with lanterns and little colored lamps, making this fairy scene as bright as day. The ballroom and adjoining salons, of which the windows had been removed as well as the iron railing outside of them, led on to a large platform which occupied the space of six such windows or doors; these gave out into two colossal staircases which descended into the garden. It was such a beautiful night, so warm that we ladies could walk about in our ball-dresses without any extra wraps; there were about six thousand people invited, they said. It seemed as if all Paris was there.
After the quadrille d'honneur their Majesties circulated freely about. Every one was eager to offer congratulations to the Emperor. Was it not the greatest triumph of his reign to have the unanimous vote of all France—this overwhelming proof of his popularity? As he stood there smiling, with a gracious acknowledgment of the many compliments, he looked radiantly happy to thus receive the homage of his country. As the Emperor passed near me I added my congratulations, to which he replied, "Merci, je suis bien heureux."
Their Majesties stood on the dais with the members of the Imperial family, and after watching the dance they all went in to the Pavillon de Flore, where supper was served for the notabilities.
For the others there was arranged a supper in the theater; an orchestra on the stage played all the time; the balconies were festooned with flowers and filled with guests; there were supper-tables in the parquet and in the largest loges, and plants and shrubs placed in every available spot.
LONDON, June, 1870.
DEAR M.,—What will you think of your dissipated daughter? Do you not think that she is insatiable? I am sure that you will say that I ought to be contented after the long season of gaiety and excitement in Paris, and settle down in lovely Petit Val, where the lilacs and the violets call one with scented voices.
However, we decided to go to London.
Did I write to you of our breakfast at Armenonville? After Lord Lyons's ball, which lasted until six o'clock in the morning, Prince Metternich and several others thought that it would be a good idea to go home, change our ball-dresses for morning-dress, and go out to the Bois for our morning coffee. We did it.
I confess that it was a crazy thing to do after dancing all night; but the beautiful May morning, the glorious sunshine, and our spirits inspired us to carry out this wild whim, much to the disgust of our sleepy coachmen. This excursion was not a success; we were all tired and longed for bed. One cannot be amusing or en train at seven o'clock in the morning. And as for the family, when we returned home all the comment they made was, "What fools!" They did not see any fun in it; neither did we, to tell the truth.
The Rothschilds, Lord Lyons, and Prince and Princess Metternich gave us what must have been very powerful letters, for we had hardly been in London more than a few days before we knew every one worth knowing, and all doors worth opening were opened to us, and I found myself what one calls lancée.