The Prussian officers, too, at head-quarters not unfrequently sent in letters, with the request that we would distribute them. I remember once receiving from Count Solms, who had been chargé d'affaires at Paris after the departure of the Embassador, a letter forwarded by him, without address, without signature, and without date. I waited a few days, thinking that other letters might refer to it, and that the owner would call and claim it. No one came. As the difficulties increased, of course I was the more determined to trace out the owner. Every thing else failing, I read the letter, to try to obtain a clue. Fortunately, I found the name of Mr. Henri Blount. I knew Mr. Blount, and knew that his father was in Paris. I wrote him, and told him the circumstances. He replied that if I would trust him with the letter, he thought that he could find the owner. He took it to the Jockey Club at dinner-time, and asked if there was any gentleman there whose name was Charles, and whose wife's name was Anna. A gentleman immediately claimed it, but after a glance reluctantly gave it up. Another claimed it, and turned out to be the right man.
I had rather an amusing correspondence with Count Solms in reference to this letter and other matters. I give two or three of the letters which passed between us, as showing that we contrived to enjoy ourselves after a fashion in Paris, notwithstanding the rigors of the siege. I give the letters as written. One of them is, perhaps, better adapted to the French language than to its more austere sister English.
"Paris, le 13 Décembre, 1870.
"Mon Cher Comte,—Votre lettre n'est pas vraiment d'un "intérêt palpitant," mais vous êtes bien disciplinés vous autres Prussiens, et j'adore la discipline. Nous voyons les résultats.
"Néanmoins, il puisse être permis à un neutre de vous remercier de vos anxiétés à son égard. Mais il ne meurt pas absolument de faim. J'ai dîné, il y a quatre jours, chez un restaurateur bien connu, en compagnie de quatre jeunes gens que vous connaissez bien. Nous avons mangé un cochon-de-lait, un canard rôti, des truffes et du beurre frais. Ce n'est pas la famine ça—tout arrosé de Château Margaux de '50. Ne croyez pas que dans ces temps ci j'ai commandé un tel dîner de Sybarite moi-même. J'ai été invité. Voilà pourquoi je ne puis rien vous dire de l'addition.
"J'espère qu'on ne trouvera rien de compromettant dans cette lettre excepté pour le cochon-de-lait. Lui il a été bien compromis.
"Je suis toujours à vos ordres pour envoyer des lettres de famille de vos amis.
"Votre dévoué, etc., etc., etc.
"Comme je plains vous autres pauvres Prussiens enfermés hors de Paris!"