‘When we left the table, M. de Talleyrand beckoned me to a corner of the room and talked to me for a considerable time. He seemed to enjoy the account of my travels in Sweden and in Denmark. The description of the shelling of Copenhagen, at which I was present, interested him. My remarks on all those countries, on the _émigrés_ in Hamburg, and on Hamburg itself, he qualified as exceedingly just. “Come and see me in Paris to-morrow,” he said. “I’ll expect you. But you are very young, and perhaps you’ll forget. Promise me that you’ll not fail to come.” Saying which he grasped my hands very affectionately. Mme. Grant, who had joined us, was equally pressing. I promised, and I ought to have kept my promise, for it was one of those lucky opportunities which often decide the whole of a man’s life and which the great Frederick called “His Majesty, Accident.” ‘But, my dear Achille, happiness is a ball after which we constantly run and then push with our feet when we have come up with it. I did not keep my appointment with M. de Talleyrand. That unfortunate shyness which too often paralyses youth had once more got the upper hand. I’ll not go as far as to say that I was practically frightened at the possible consequences of this good-will towards me. But I did ask myself what people could offer me in exchange for that constant succession of happiness, of maddening joys which at that moment made up my existence? I dreaded the end of a dream which my thoughtlessness, my ignorance of all serious things, sought to prolong. The contact with, the goodwill of, such a man, his influence, would have given a different direction to my ideas and to my career; in short, would have finally created for me a different life. Yes, friend, the goddess of chance absolutely stood in my path, and I was foolish enough not to catch hold of her. I learnt too late that her favour has wings, as desire is said to have.’ ‘I am not surprised at the prince’s recollection of the incident. His memory is excellent.’ ‘Since then I have often thought the matter over, and always regretted my neglect to let M. de Talleyrand know the causes of my apparent lack of gratitude.’ ‘Your story reminds me of one I heard recently in Rome in connection with the banker Torlonia, whose enormous fortune is, again, a consequence of one of those inspirations that decide the fate of a man.