“French bishops with their nieces; an accoucheur, decorated with the order of Saint Michael; a dentist with that of the Spur; dancing and singing masters in the uniform of Russian majors; Italians in that of Polish colonels, leading about young bears of that country; Dutchmen scanning the papers for the rate of exchange; thirty so-called Knights of Malta; ribbons of all colours, to the right and the left, at the buttonhole on both sides, orders of all kinds, shapes, and sizes. “Old duchesses returning from their walks armed with tall canes _à la Vendôme_, and three coatings of white and rouge; marchionesses, cheating doubly at cards; horrible and suspicious faces, surrounded by piles of ducats, and swallowing up all those that were timidly put on the large green cloth; two or three electors in hunting-dress, striped with gold, armed with hunting-knives; a few princes incognito, who would not produce a greater sensation under their own names; some old generals and officers retired on account of wounds they never received; a few Russian princesses with their doctors, and Palatines and Castilian ladies with their young chaplains. “Americans and burgomasters of the neighbourhood; convicts escaped from all the different prisons in Europe; quacks of every description; adventurers of all kinds; abbés of all countries. Twenty sick people wildly dancing for their health; forty lovers, or pretended lovers, sweating and agitating themselves, and sixty feminine waltzers of more or less beauty and innocence, cleverness and coquetry, modesty and voluptuousness. All this combined is called a dancing breakfast.” After leaving the establishment of the mineral waters, the Prince takes us to La Sauvetière, an elegant meeting-place for bathers: “The noise, the buzzing sound of conversation, the uproar of the music, the intoxicating rhythm of the waltz, the passing and repassing of the idlers, the oaths and sobs of the gamblers, both men and women, the weariness of this magic-lantern made me leave the hall. I sit down, and I see some water drinkers religiously counting their glasses and their steps, and congratulating themselves, perhaps rather sadly, on the improvement of their digestion. Some ladies join their group. “‘Do you digest the waters, Madame?’ “‘Yes, sir, since yesterday.’ “‘Does your Excellency begin to digest?’ she says to the minister of an ecclesiastical court. “‘I have the honour to inform your Excellency,’ he answers, ‘that I perspire from eight o’clock in the evening till ten, and that I sweat completely from ten till midnight. If I had not so much business to transact for his Grace, I should be entirely cured by the treatment.’”