About two in the morning they threw open the huge supper-room, lighted by thousands of wax candles. It contained fifty tables, and by that alone the number of guests might be estimated. Amidst banks of flowers was displayed all that Italy, Germany, France, and Russia had to offer in the way of rare fruit and other edibles: such as sturgeon from the Volga, oysters from Ostend and Cancale, truffles from Périgord, oranges from Sicily. Worthy of note was a pyramid of pine-apples, such as had never before been served on any board, and which had come direct from the imperial hothouses at Moscow for the czar’s guests. There were strawberries all the way from England, grapes from France, looking as if they had just been cut from the trailing vine. Still more remarkable, on each of the fifty tables there stood a dish of cherries, despatched from St. Petersburg, notwithstanding the December cold, but at the cost of a silver rouble apiece. Regarding these events many years after their occurrence, I am often tempted to mistrust to a certain extent my recollections of all this lavish display. This fête, which really deserved precedence among all the daily pomp and splendour of the Congress, was prolonged till dawn, when a breakfast was served and dancing was resumed. Only the need of rest made us regretfully bend our steps homeward and leave that magnificent palace where so many fair women and brave men had forgathered in the pursuit of pleasure. Many years have gone by since that memorable night. The charming woman in whose honour the fête was given became the Queen of Würtemberg. Death claimed her prematurely as his victim. The Prince Koslowski, who had been, like myself, an eye-witness of that charming love-episode at Vienna, and who was subsequently despatched as ambassador to her Court, saw her die of the same disease that carried away her brother, the emperor. And only a short time ago the son of Marie-Louise and the Comte de Neipperg[86] married the daughter of this Catherine of Russia who had been asked in marriage by Napoleon. How very truly Shakespeare exclaims: ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’ As for me, when my thoughts go back to that period of happiness and freedom from care called the Congress of Vienna, I always picture to myself sweet Catherine, not amidst all those fêtes, but strolling in the dusky glades of the Prater, where I so often saw her, proud of her love for the Prince Royal of Würtemberg and of her tender affection for her brother. CHAPTER XI The Last Love-Tryst of the Prince de Ligne--A Glance at the Past --Z----or the Consequences of Gaming--Gambling in Poland and in Russia--The Biter Bit--Masked Ball--The Prince de Ligne and a Domino--More Living Pictures--The Pasha of Surêne--Two Masked Ladies--Recollections of the Prince de Talleyrand.