Another notable arrest was that of Paschal Grousset, the so-called Minister of Foreign Affairs. He was caught disguised as a woman in the Rue Condorcet, which created a great sensation. Sir Edward Malet, who as second secretary of the British Embassy, had been obliged to have some dealings with him, told me that he was really a very pleasant little man, who was always civil and obliging to foreigners. “Not a bad little fellow,” Malet used to say. I saw him some years later in London, when he was correspondent of I forget which of the French newspapers, and he came to me at the Office of Works to ask for an admission to a volunteer review which the Queen was to hold in Hyde Park. He was so agreeable that I quite understood Malet’s verdict on him. In the evening we went to dine at Voisin’s, where I had heard that the members of the Government of the Commune had been dining and breakfasting every day during their short lease of power. Good old Bellanger, the famous _sommelier_, was delighted to see us. I asked after a certain old chambertin—had he any left? “Pour Monsieur il y en aura toujours,” was the answer. But I said, “I wonder that your late patrons did not drink it all up!” “Ah! Monsieur, si vous croyez que j’allais donner de ce vin là à ces charapans! Monsieur, lorsque j’ai su qu’ils allaient venir ici je suis descendu dans la cave et j’ai changé toutes les étiquettes. Ils croyaient boire les meilleurs crus—s’ils avaient su ce que je leur servais! Mais j’étais sûr de mon affaire! Est-ce qu’ils s’y connaissaient ces animaux-là?” And then he went on grumbling: “Ah! mais non, non! Du chambertin—jamais de la vie!” Truly there is a comic element in every tragedy, and a grave-digger in every Hamlet. * * * * *