The Duchess is still handsome and attractive; her pronounced originality lends her a peculiar charm. She has many admiring friends who are true to her, and I must say that when she is a friend she is a true one, and never fails you. Her originality frequently leads her beyond conventionality; for instance, the other day she took it into her head to dine out of doors. If she wanted to picnic _al fresco_, why did she not choose some pretty place in the park or in the woods? But no, she had the usual elaborate dinner served directly outside the château, and on the gravel walk. The servants, powdered and in short breeches as usual, served us in their customary solemnity; but they must have wondered why we preferred to sit on the gravel, with a draught of cold air on our backs, when we might have been comfortably seated in a big and airy room with a carpet under our feet. However, such was the wish of the châtelaine, and no one dared say a word, not even the Duke, though he protested meekly. Later on the Duke had his revenge, for in the midst of our breezy repast there came a downpour of rain, accompanied by lightning and peals of thunder, which necessitated a hasty retreat. The Duchess, who is very timid in thunder-storms, was the first to rush into the house, the guests following pell-mell, and our dinner was finished indoors. After our return to Petit Val we had the visit of Auber's protégé, a young man called Massenet. One day, in Paris, two months ago, Auber said to me: "I am very much interested in a former pupil of the Conservatoire who took the Grand-Prix de Rome, and has just come back from his four years' musical studies in Rome. As he is more or less a stranger in Paris, I should be very thankful if you would interest yourself for him. He really is a genius; but, as so often happens, geniuses don't have pocket-money." I answered: "Please tell him to come and see me. I have some music I wish to have transposed. Do you think that he would be willing to do it?" "Certainly; he would be glad to do anything," was the answer. The next day a pale young man presented himself. "You are Monsieur Massenet?" I inquired. "Yes, Madame," came the gentle answer. Thereupon I gave him the music, and I showed him to a quiet little room in the upper part of the house, which contained a piano, writing-table, pen and ink, etc., and left him to his fate. He came two or three times before I heard him play, and then it was only by chance that I passed through the corridor, and imagine my astonishment at hearing the most divine music issuing from the room where the young man was working. I rushed in, saying: "What is that?" "Nothing," he answered. "Nothing!" I exclaimed. "I never heard anything so exquisite, Do play it again." "It was simply something that passed through my head," he answered.