"I blasée! I! What an idea!"
Such an idea could only emanate from a poet's brain with an extra-poetical poet's license. I was very indignant, and told him so, and said, "Est-ce que tous les poètes sont fous à cette heure de la soirée?"
"Vous voyez," he retorted, "you are not only blasée; you are sarcastic."
I enjoyed my dinner immensely in spite of being blasée, and Gautier's fun and amusing talk lasted until we were back in the salon. The Emperor approached us while we were still laughing, and began to talk to us. I told him that Monsieur Gautier had said that I was blasée. The Emperor exclaimed: "Vous blasée! Il faut y mettre beaucoup de bonne volonté pour être blasée à votre âge!"
I said I did not know whether to be angry or not with him.
"Be angry with him," answered the Emperor. "He deserves it."
Waldteufel began playing his delightful waltzes, and every one was boon whirling about. I never heard him play with so much dash; he really seemed inspired. Prince Metternich asked him to order a piano to be sent to his salon in the chateau. "I cannot exist without a piano," said he. "It helps me to write my tiresome rapports."
There were only two pianos, I believe, in the château; the one (upright) in the ballroom and the Erard in the salle de musique.
At eleven o'clock we went into the Emperor's salon, where tea was served.
MONDAY, November 24, 1866.