PARIS, _March 17, 1871_.

At last, to-morrow, March 18th, at four o'clock, I am to be received by M. Jules Favre at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

PARIS, _March 18, 1871_.

We dressed ourselves, I and my two secretaries, in our official costumes, and departed at three o'clock, accompanied by an interpreter.

We arrived. The court of the house was filled with people who appeared busy and hurried, and who came and went, carrying cases and packages.

The interpreter, after having exchanged several words with an employee of the ministry, said to me:

"Something serious has happened--an insurrection. The Government is again obliged to change its capital!"

At that moment a door opened, and M. Jules Favre himself appeared with a large portfolio under his arm. He explained to the interpreter that I should have my audience at Versailles in several days, and having made me a profound bow, which I returned him, he ran away with his large portfolio.

VERSAILLES, _March 19, 1871_.

I had to leave Paris at twelve o'clock in a great hurry. There really is a new Government at Paris. This Government is not one of the three monarchies, nor one of the three republics. It is a seventh arrangement, which is called the _Commune_. This morning an armed troop of men surrounded the house where I live. It seems that the new Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Paris of the Commune would have been charmed to receive a Chinese amba.s.sador. They had come to carry me off. I had time to escape. It is not the Minister of Foreign Affairs in Paris that I ought to see, it is the Minister of Foreign Affairs in Versailles.

Good heavens, how complicated it all is! And when shall I be able to put my hand on this intangible person, who is now blockaded in Paris and now chased out of Paris?

VERSAILLES, _April 6, 1871_.

At last, yesterday, I had the honor of being received by his Excellency, and we discussed the events that had occurred in Paris.

"This insurrection," M. Jules Favre said to me, "is the most formidable and the most extraordinary that has ever broken out."

I could not allow such a great historical error to pa.s.s. I answered M.

Jules Favre that we had had in China for millions of years socialists and socialistic uprisings; that the French Communists were but rough imitators of our Chinese Taipings; that we had had in 1230 a siege at Nankin which had lasted seven years, etc. In short, these Europeans are only beginning again our history with less grandeur and more barbarity.

VERSAILLES, _May 15, 1871_.

My mission is ended; I could return to China; but all that I see here interests me extremely. This civil war immediately succeeding a foreign war is a very curious occurrence. There is here, for a Chinaman, an excellent opportunity of study, on the spot and from life, of European civilization.

VERSAILLES, _May 24, 1871_.

Paris is burning, and on the terrace of the palace of Saint-Cloud, in the midst of the ruins of that palace, I pa.s.sed my day looking at Paris burn. It is a dead, destroyed, and annihilated city.

PARIS, _June 10, 1871_.

Not at all. It is still the most beautiful city in Europe, and the most brilliant, and the most gay. I shall spend some time in Paris.

PARIS, _June 29, 1871_.

Yesterday M. Thiers, in the Bois de Boulogne, held a review of a hundred thousand men. Will there always be a France?

IN THE EXPRESS

"When one bears the name of Luynes or La Tremoille, I can readily understand the desire to continue the Luynes or the La Tremoilles; but really when one is named Chamblard, what possible object can there be in--Eh? Answer."

In this fashion young Raoul Chamblard talked while comfortably settled back in a large red velvet arm-chair. This happened on the 26th of March, 1892, in one of the parlor-cars of the express to Ma.r.s.eilles, which had left Paris at 8.50 that morning. It was now five minutes past nine. The train with much racket was crossing the bridge of Charentin.

Young Chamblard was talking to his friend, Maurice Revoille, who, after a six weeks' leave, was going to join his regiment in Algeria.

The lieutenant of light cavalry responded to his friend's question with a vague gesture. Raoul Chamblard continued:

"However, it's my father's fixed idea. There must be Chamblards after me. And as papa has but one son, it's to me he looks to do what is necessary."

"Well, do what is necessary."

"But I am only twenty-four, my dear fellow, and to marry at twenty-four is hard. It seems to me that I'm still ent.i.tled to a little more fun, and even a good deal."

"Well, have your fun."

"That's just what I've done up to now. I have had a first-rate time! But I've taste only for expensive amus.e.m.e.nts. I don't know how to enjoy myself without money, and I haven't a cent. Do you understand? Not a cent!"

"You? You are very rich."

"A great mistake! Upon coming of age, three years ago, I spent what was left me by my mother. Mother wasn't very rich; she was worth six hundred thousand francs, not more. Papa made almost a love-match. The six hundred thousand francs vanished in three years, and could I decently do anything else as the son of my father? He is powerfully rich!"

"That's what's said."

"And it's very true. He has a dozen millions which are quite his own, and can't be hurt by an accident; and his bank still goes on, and brings him in, one year with another, besides the interest on his dozen millions, three or four hundred thousand francs more. Nothing is more solid than the Chamblard bank; it's honest, it's venerable. Papa isn't fair to me, but I'm fair to him. When you have a father in business, it's a good thing when you go out not to be exposed to meet eyes which seem to say to you, 'My dear fellow, your father has swindled me.' Papa has but one pa.s.sion: from five to seven every day he plays piquet at his club, at ten sous a point, and as he is an excellent player, he wins seven times out of ten. He keeps an account of his games with the same scrupulous exact.i.tude he has in all things, and he was telling the day before yesterday that piquet this year had brought him in six thousand five hundred francs over and above the cost of the cards. He has a seat in the orchestra at the opera, not for the ballet, but for the music only; he never goes on the stage--neither do I, for that matter. Dancers don't attract me at all; they live in Batignolles, in Montmartre; they always walk with their mothers; they completely lack charm. In short, my father is what one calls a good man. You see I continue to be fair to him. Besides, I'm always right. Yes, it's a very good thing to have an honorable father, and Papa Chamblard is a model of all virtues, and he acc.u.mulates for me with a zeal! but I think, just at present, he acc.u.mulates a little too much. He has cut off my income. No marriage, no money. That's brief and decisive. That's his programme. And he has hunted up a wife for me--when I say one, I should say three."

"Three wives!"

"Yes. One morning he came to me and said: 'This must end. Look, here's a list--three splendid matches.' There were the names, the relations, the dowries--it was even arranged in the order of the dowries. I had to yield and consent to an interview with Number One. That took place at the Salon in the Champs Elysees. Ah, my boy, Number One--dry, flat, bony, sallow!"

"Then why did your father--"

"Why? Because she was the daughter, and only daughter, of a wealthy manufacturer from Roubaix. It was splendid! We each started with a hundred thousand francs income, and that was to be, in the course of time, after realized expectations, a shower of millions! It made papa supremely happy--the thought that all his millions in Paris would one day make an enormous heap with all those Roubaix millions. Millions don't frighten me, but on the condition that they surround a pretty, a very pretty and stylish woman--a great deal of style! That's _my_ programme. I want to be able to take my wife to the theatres without having to blush before the box-openers."

"What do you mean? Before the box-openers?"

"Why, certainly. I am known, and I've a reputation to keep up. You see, the openers are always the same--always; and of course they know me.

They've been in the habit of seeing me, during the last three or four years, come with the best-known and best-dressed women in Paris. Which is to say, that I should never dare present myself before them with that creature from Roubaix. They would think I had married for money. I tried to explain that delicately to papa, but one can't make him hear reason.

There are things which he doesn't understand, which he can't understand.

I have no grudge against him; he's of his time, I'm of mine. In short, I declared resolutely that I would never marry Number One. Notice that I discoursed most sensibly with papa. I said to him: 'You want me to have a home' (home is his word), 'but when I should have placed in that home a fright such as to scare the sparrows, my home would be a horror to me, and I should be forced, absolutely forced, to arrange a home outside.

Thus I should have a household at home and a household outside, and it's then that the money would fly!' But papa won't listen to anything! He doesn't understand that I must have a little wife who is pretty, Parisian pretty--that is to say, original, gay, jolly, who is looked at on the street, and stared at through opera-gla.s.ses at the theatre, who will do me honor, and who will set me off well. I must be able to continue my bachelor life with her, and as long as possible. And then there's another thing that I can't tell papa. His name is Chamblard--it isn't his fault; only, in consequence, I too am named Chamblard, and it's not very agreeable, with a name like that, to try to get on in society. And a pretty, a very pretty, woman is the best pa.s.sport. There, look at Robineau. He has just been received into the little club of the Rue Royale. And why? It's not the Union or the Jockey; but never mind, one doesn't get in there as into a hotel. And why was Robineau received?"