‘On the second plane stands Walmoden, who in spite of his being a field-marshal to-day, has remained the simple and good-natured creature of former times. The same may be said of the Prince de Hesse-Hombourg. Military glory has not induced pride; his noble and stately manners are altogether tempered by a sweet and affectionate disposition. Prince Philippe is one of those men whom neither spite nor sarcasm can touch. In his familiar intercourse with his fellow-mortals, he is as distinguished for the noble impulses of his heart as he is famed on the battle-field for his brilliant valour and his promptness of perception. ‘Reuss is always in the clouds; I do not pretend to follow him thither. Not having travelled, he has had little opportunity of seeing things; consequently, he mistakes the effects of his imagination for the results of learning, his desire to know for the elements of science, vagueness for tact. In short, he is the living proof that with much cleverness and the germ of talent, a man may make himself unbearable in society by the constant display of small defects calculated to irritate those around him. ‘Just cast your eye in the direction of the Courland princesses, to the Prince de Lichtenstein seated near them, who is as much at home in the drawing-room as on the battle-field. They call him the “monster-prince,” but I can assure you he is an Azor who has captivated many Zémires.[67] He counts as many successes with the fair sex as mentions in the “orders of the day.” ‘The Duc d’Exerenza, the happy husband of a charming woman, is one of the mortals who, as Figaro has it, “gave themselves the trouble to be born.” All things considered, he is not a “bad sort.” ‘De Gentz is the custodian of all the secrets of Europe, just as in a short time he’ll possess all the orders of it. One of the many voices of that silent being constitutes the Austrian government; what with his manifestoes, his newspapers, and his proclamations, he has, perhaps, been as formidable an opponent to Napoleon as the snow-bound steppes of Russia. The honours and the ribands are, however, not exclusively the things he wants. The sovereigns are also aware of his love of money, and they simply gorge him with it. Overwhelmed with work and business, satiated with pleasure, he has, nevertheless, flung himself into the maëlstrom of society in the hope of finding some excitement which will take him “out of himself.” It is most doubtful whether his road to happiness lies in that direction. ‘Ferdinand de Palfi is as sprightly as a fairy figure: his cousin is a living Pactolus. The first gambles, wins much money, and with his gains has built himself a magnificent mansion, which people call “a house of cards.” He welcomes his friends there with the happy face he wears to-night, and his friends are legion. François is handsome among the handsome, very lavish with women, who simply worship him. Both, it is no exaggeration to say, are under a lucky star.