‘It was his father, the reigning prince,’ said one of our friends, ‘who at the time of the Directory began an official despatch in the following terms: “The Prince de Reuss begs to acknowledge the existence of the French Republic.” M. de Talleyrand, who in his capacity of Minister of Foreign Affairs had to reply to the missive, began his document with: “The French Republic feels most flattered at making the acquaintance of the Prince de Reuss.”’ On leaving my friends, I could not help reflecting with regret upon my adventure at Raincy, the recollection of which had so unexpectedly cropped up a few hours previously. I kept thinking of the chance offered to me by M. de Talleyrand, which my lack of foresight had caused me to disdain. CHAPTER XII Illness of the Prince de Ligne--The Comte de Witt--Ambassador Golowkin--Doctor Malfati--The Prince gets worse--Last Sallies of the Moribund--General Grief--Portrait of the Prince de Ligne--His Funeral. One of the most painful events of my life, namely, the death of the Prince de Ligne, also damped the gaieties of the Congress. The event affected me so deeply, and it was so unexpected by me, that, after many years, I still vividly remember the particulars. I was on my way to pay my quasi-daily visit when, not far from the prince’s residence, I met the Comte de Witt, who wished to accompany me. The prince was in bed and ailing. He had caught a chill at that ill-fated appointment on the rampart; and on the previous evening at the ball, where he appeared so thoroughly consoled, he had been rash enough to go out without a cloak in the bitter cold in order to take some ladies to their carriage. As yet there were no grave symptoms; he was only feverish, and had passed a very restless night. Nevertheless, he welcomed us with the cordial grace that never failed him, and we chatted about the crowd of strangers in Vienna and the latest rumours of the Congress; and finally we got to military matters, the favourite subject of the octogenarian marshal and of the young Russian general. To judge by his spirited remarks, there seemed no cause for anxiety, and the Comte de Witt as a parting sentence said how sorry Vienna would feel at the news of its brightest ornament being ill. He answered with a particularly atrocious pun, attributed to the Marquis de Bièvre, which seemed to afford him great amusement, and expressed the intention of getting well again in a short time if only to spite the gossip-mongers of the capital.