I wish I could remember all the pearls which fell from his lips; but alas! one cannot, like Cleopatra, digest pearls. But I do remember one thing he said, which was, "If I should define the difference between men and women, I should say, 'Que les hommes valent plus, mais que les femmes valent mieux.'" I wondered if this was one of the pearls he let drop in his letters to the wonderful English _bas-bleu_. In the evening we danced to the waltzes of the Debain, and were obliged to tread a very spasmodic measure. The Prince Imperial asked me for a polka, and I had to clutch his shoulder with one hand and beat time with the other on his arm to keep any kind of rhythm in his evolutions. It is nice to see him circulating about and chatting with all the ladies. _November 29th._ A message came to my room this morning, to the effect that I was to sit next to the Emperor. I suppose they thought it best to let me know in time, in case I should go wandering off sight-seeing, like last year, but no danger! Once caught, twice warned, as the saying is. Therefore, when we descended to the grand salon, I knew what my fate was to be. The Due de Sesto, who had recently married the widow of the Duc de Morny, gave me his arm and deposited me at the side of his Majesty. The Emperor was in the most delightful spirits, and full of _bonhomie_ and fun. Glancing across the table at a certain diplomat (Baron F----), he said, "I never knew a person more impervious to a joke than that gentleman is." And then he went on to say that once he had told the Baron the old time-worn joke which any child can understand. (You have heard it many times, I am sure, dear mama.) One begins by saying, "Vous me permettez de vous tutoyer (You will permit me to use the thee and thou)?" And then one says, "Pourquoi aimes-tu la chicorée (Why dost thou like chicory)?" To which the answer is, "Parce qu'elle est amère (ta mère) (Because it is 'bitter' or 'your mother')." But I had better tell the story in the Emperor's own language. "The Baron was making a call upon the Duchess de Bassano, one of the ladies-in-waiting of the Empress, a severe and formal person, as you know, and in deep mourning for her mother. He wished to make himself agreeable and told her this story, saying that it was the most amusing thing he had ever heard. But he forgot to ask her permission to use the thee and thou, and said, point-blank, 'Pourquoi aimes-tu la salade?' The Duchess did not understand, and he, bursting out laughing, continued, without waiting for her to speak, 'Parce qu'elle est ta mère.' The Duchess arose, indignant. 'Monsieur, I beg you cease. My poor mother died three months ago. I am still wearing mourning for her!' With which she burst into tears and left the room.