Among the most useful of the personages who figured at Vienna during the celebrated period of 1814-15 there was none whose utility could be compared with that of a gay and generous young Frenchman, who was known by the _sobriquet_ of “the King of Good Fellows.” He did not serve much, it is true, for the furtherance of political purposes; but he was always indispensable, and never missing, when a ball, a masquerade, a concert, or a pic-nic was in question, and some difficulty opposed its successful accomplishment. Little was known of him, save that he had been attached to the French Legation at Lisbon; but whispers were circulated to the effect that in the days of the exile of the French nobility, he had earned a livelihood in London by application of the needle, while it was more loudly asserted that he had given lessons on the guitar in the English capital, and that he and his father had played duets, under the patronage of Banti, at the Pantheon. Two or three out of the dozen of Talleyrand’s discreet secretaries confidently affirmed, that when a boy he had been confined in the prison of Orléans, “on suspicion of being suspected” by the Republic. But Baron Thierry himself was profoundly silent on his antecedents; and he was wont to say that the memories of the past were of a very unsubstantial nature, and that his designs for the present and the future were to make the most of all opportunities, and get a crown, if he could, since one might perhaps be had at the mere cost of setting up a pretension to it. People laughed at the idea of Baron Thierry becoming a monarch; but at such mirth the baron assumed a gravity that was very majestic, and which looked like determination. “Who is that pretty child whom your Majesty keeps so close to your side tonight?” said a lady to Thierry at a ball given by Wellesley Pole. The lady was remarkable for her natural beauty and her bad taste. She wore her husband’s “Garter” as an ornament round her head, and _Honi soit qui mal y pense_ glittered in diamonds upon her radiant brow. “She is the half of an imperial princess,” replied the Baron, in a whisper; “and she and I are characters in a romance of an hour. Watch us well, and you will see the _dénouement_.” The Baron had scarcely uttered the words when the lovely and childless Czarina of Russia passed by his side. The Czarina paused for a moment at an open window, and then stepped on to the balcony overlooking a handsome garden. No one accompanied, and no one followed her. The Baron however occupied the centre of the window, and the angelic-looking child, at his bidding, passed on to the balcony, and stood by the imperial lady’s side. Lady Castlereagh, and some three or four persons who were aware that Thierry was contriving something for the especial gratification of the Czarina, contrived to witness what passed without appearing to do so.