I was mortified when I saw it appear, brought in on eight enormous silver platters, four ears on each. It looked pitiful! Silk, robe de chambre and all, steaming like a steam-engine. Every one looked aghast, and no one dared to touch it; and when I wanted to show them how it was eaten in its native land they screamed with laughter. Baron Haussmann asked me if the piece I was playing (he meant on the flute) was in la-bémol?
I looked to the Baroness de Pierres for support; but, alas! her eyes refused to meet mine and were fixed on her plate.
I tried to make the corn less objectionable by unwrapping the cobs and cutting off the corn. Then I added butter and salt, and it was passed about; first, of course, to the Emperor, who liked it very much; but the Empress pushed her plate aside with a grimace, saying, "I don't like it; it smells like a baby's flannels."
The Emperor, seeing the crushed look on my face, raised his glass and said, with a kind glance at me, "Here's to the American corn!" I reproached the Princess Metternich for having suggested my taking it there.
COMPIÈGNE, November 22, 1866.
DEAR A.,—You know it has always been my wish to see the life at
Compiègne, and behold, here I am!
We received the invitation twelve days ago. It reads thus:
MAISON DE L'EMPEREUR
_Palais des Tuileries, le 10 Novembre 1866.
Premier Chambellan_