You remember I had one in my youth. How I loved it! How I used to love to grind out all the beautiful music those ugly boxes contained! And how I used to wonder that those common wooden slides could reproduce such perfect imitations of the real thing. I was so glad to see one again, and envied the perspiring chamberlain, who looked bored to extinction having to turn the crank, instead of joining the dance and turning the heads of the ladies. It took two of them to manage the complexities of the piano, and as neither possessed a musical turn of the wrist, and as neither had the remotest idea of time or measure, it was very hard for us poor dancers! When one of the martyrs wanted to explain to the other what to do he would stop and forget to turn the crank. The dancers were thus obliged to pause, one foot in the air, not knowing when to put it down, and when they did put it down they did not fall in measure, and had to commence all over again. This spasmodic waltzing almost made us crazy. As for me, I could not bear it any longer. No chariot nor horses could have kept me away from that piano; to feel again (after so many years) the delight of playing it! And then I wanted to show how it should be played; so I went to the piano and took the crank out of the tired hands of the chamberlain and ground out a whole dance. I flatter myself that the dancers enjoyed at least this one. His Majesty walked up to the piano while I was playing and said, "But, Madame, you will tire yourself; you really must stop and let some one take your place." I replied: "If your Majesty only knew what a pleasure it is for me to play this piano! I had one like it when I was a little girl, and have never seen one since." "Are these pianos not something quite new?" he asked. "I was told that they were the latest invention." "They may be," I answered, "the latest improvement on an old invention; but the pianos are older than I am." "That," answered the Emperor, smilingly, "does not make them very old." He called one of the chamberlains, and I reluctantly gave up my place. The Count d'Amelot was summoned, and as we were about to waltz off the Emperor said, "If I danced, I should like to dance with you myself; but I do not dance." "Then," I said, "I must dance without you." He laughed: "Vous avez toujours la réplique," and stood there watching us with those peculiar eyes of his. I never received so many compliments on piano-playing as I did to-night. Here is the list of my dresses (the cause of so much grumbling):