A few days later, without taking the slightest notice of any of the predictions of the Viennese Nostradamuses, the Austrian Court joyfully celebrated the birthday of the King of Denmark, of the Queen of Bavaria, of the Duke of Saxe-Weimar, and of the Grand-Duke of Baden, all happening on the same day. A grand state-fête, to which the public were admitted as spectators, united all the crowned heads. I followed the crowd, anxious to witness a sight which was not likely to renew itself within my days. It was in reality something very important, that banquet, both by the number and rank of its guests. ‘Sire,’ ‘your majesty,’ might be heard at each corner of every table; royal highnesses, imperial highnesses, grand dukes, dukes, etc., were practically speaking, so many small-fry. If one added to all this the rank of the officers in attendance, equerries, cup-bearers, pantlers, most of these holding high rank; if one still further adds thousands of wax candles, causing the crystals to glint and to sparkle, and reflecting their light in the massive gold plate; if we still add the perfume of flowers mingling with the harmony of the instruments, the sweet familiarity, the intimacy of those masters of the world tempering the majesty of their gathering--if we consider all this, it will be admitted that the spectacle was likely to remain a unique one. It was during these gala-fêtes that they served those famous Tokay wines, the exorbitant price of which is estimated at between a hundred and twenty and a hundred and fifty florins a bottle. The emperor had some in his cellars which was more than a century old; the precious nectar was only brought forth on solemn occasions, when it was necessary to drink the health of this or that sovereign, or to celebrate this or that grand anniversary. Chance had placed me not far away from the Baron Ompteda. We left together to go to the theatre of the Carinthian Gate. The main attraction was _Flore et Zéphire_, a ballet performed by the dancers of the Paris Opéra. The house was full, as usual. Indifferent to the entrechats and the pirouettes, I strolled about with Ompteda, pretty well certain that, if he were in the mood, I should soon be posted in all the particulars of the Congress, no one being more capable than he of attractively dishing up both the news of the Graben and of the drawing-rooms. ‘What is the news?’ I asked of my sprightly companion. ‘Everything is over or nearly over. All the clouds are dispersed. Europe owes the happy issue of the negotiations to the departure of Lord Castlereagh.’ ‘Was Milord, then, the only obstacle to peace?’