The stage manager entrusted with the carrying out of the tableau bore the name of Omer, which lent itself marvellously to all kind of witticisms. Omer, then, was deputed to enter into negotiations with the young Comte and to induce him to part with the inconvenient ornament. In spite of his poetical name (irrespective of its orthography), Omer found but an indifferent listener in the young man. In vain did he cajole, argue, and supplicate. In vain did he point out to the young man the impossibility of representing the tableau. His words did not produce the slightest effect. Inexorable, like Achilles sulking in his tent, young Wurbna seemed to have taken an oath not to part with his moustachios while alive. The rumour of this curious obstinacy spread with the rapidity of bad tidings; there is great agitation and anxiety, people are inquiring of each other the latest particulars of the affair, every other pleasure is forgotten; the Congress, too, would have been forgotten if any one had thought it worth while to remember that there was a Congress. Those moustachios have become the subject of every conversation and of universal concern. Finally, in view of the gravity of the circumstances, recourse is being had to a supreme appeal: the empress is informed of the affair. Entering frankly into the plot, the charming princess, on the very evening, so effectively cajoled the young recalcitrant Comte that, vanquished, or rather won over, he absented himself for a moment, to reappear with a clean and smooth upper lip like that of a young girl. Thus fell, at a single word from Louis XIV., the woods interrupting the view from the seat of Petit-Bourg. Truly, sovereigns, and especially female sovereigns, have for the purpose of upraising or cutting down magic and powerful words, denied to other mortals. The sacrifice was consummated, and we knew that, thanks to the happy conclusion of that negotiation, Omer had been enabled to carry out to the best of purposes his Olympian production. At last the curtain rose, and the assembly of the gods met the eager gaze of the spectators. The queen of the gods was represented by the daughter of Admiral Sir Sidney Smith, Venus by Mme. de Wilhem, a lady of honour to the Princesse de la Tour et Taxis, and Minerva by the lovely Comtesse Rosalie Rzewuska. The eyes of the spectators, delighted at first by the matchless beauty of the picture, finally contemplate nobody but Apollo, standing forth in all his glory, and well rewarded for his obedience by sweet and august smiles.