Although similar rumours had run almost from the very outset of the Congress, this time they were invested with a kind of probability. Four months had gone by since pleasure had thrown open to the representatives of Europe the doors of the sanctuary in which her fate was going to be decided. Peace, and a durable equilibrium, would most likely be the result of this long gestation. There remains nothing to be said of M. de Stackelberg’s ball which has not been said of any of the others. It really seemed as if the representatives of the great Powers were determined upon a contest in good taste and magnificence. One of the first persons I noticed in this dazzling crowd was General Ouwaroff, standing stock-still and rigid according to his habit. He wore on his finger that mysterious ring, which never quitted him, and on which a death’s head was engraved. Was it a reminder of the death of the Princesse S----, who had poisoned herself for love of him? I have never been able to discover. Close to him were Colonel Brozin and the Comte Paul Kisseleff, both aides-de-camp of Emperor Alexander. The first, a handsome and brave soldier, had later on the dangerous honour of succeeding his master in the heart of La Belle Narischkine, for it was only given to Louis XIV. to be beloved by a La Vallière, by a woman who gave herself to God when she ceased to belong to her king. The second, a soldier of the highest distinction, has since then won for himself a well-deserved reputation as an administrator of Wallachia and Moldavia. He at once evoked one’s sympathy for his intrepid and brilliant character. Enthusiastic for everything which was grand and noble, he had really a god-like reverence for Alexander, whom he loved as a benefactor, and whom he cherished in consequence of the natural attraction which attaches two souls apt to understand each other. General Paul Kisseleff has married since the eldest daughter of the celebrated Sophie Potocka. He is entrusted to-day with one of the most important portfolios of the Russian empire. Here was the Prince Dolgorouki, the son of that handsome Princesse Dolgorouki, to please whom Potemkin had the fortress of Oczakoff shelled for a whole night. He was surrounded by a numerous circle, among whom one might easily distinguish the Princes Gagarin and Troubastköy; the aide-de-camp Pankratieff, etc. A little further on, Talleyrand is calmly conversing with MM. de Wintzingerode and d’Hardemberg. Amidst the noise and the animation of all this pleasure his impassive features preserve the same calm visible thereon in the Congress-room.