I stood up quickly, furious with Mme. Guérard, but I saw that she, too, was bent over in a half circle. I turned round quickly, and behind me was—the Emperor. He was clapping his hands silently and laughing quietly, but still he _was_ laughing. My face flushed, and I was embarrassed, for I wondered how long he had been there. I had been courtesying I do not know how many times, trying to get my reverence to my mind, and saying: “There—that’s too low, though—There, is that right, Guérard?” “Good heavens!” I now said to myself, “has he heard all that?” In spite of my confusion, I now made my courtesy again, but the Emperor said, smiling: “It’s no use, it could not be better than it was just now. Save them for the Empress, who is expecting you.” Oh! that “just now,” I wondered when it had been. I could not question Mme. Guérard, as she was following at some distance with M. De Laferrière. The Emperor was at my side, talking to me of a hundred things, but I could only answer in an absent-minded way on account of that “just now.” I liked him much better like this, quite near, than in his portraits. He had such fine eyes, which he half closed while looking through his long lashes. His smile was sad and rather mocking. His face was pale, and his voice faint, but seductive. We found the Empress seated in a large armchair. Her body was encased in a gray dress, and seemed to have been molded into the material. I thought her very beautiful. She, too, was more beautiful than her portrait. I made my three courtesies under the laughing eyes of the Emperor. The Empress spoke, and the spell was then broken. That rough, hard voice coming from that brilliant woman gave me a shock. From that moment I felt ill at ease with her, in spite of her graciousness and her kindness. As soon as Agar arrived and had been introduced, the Empress had us conducted to the large drawing-room, where the performance was to take place. The measurements were taken for the platform, and there was to be the flight of steps, where Agar had to pose as the unhappy courtesan cursing mercenary love, and longing for ideal love. This flight of steps was quite a problem. They were supposed to represent the first three steps of a huge flight, leading up to a Florentine palace, and had to be half hidden in some way. I asked for some shrubs and flowering plants, which I arranged along all three of the steps. The Prince Imperial, who had come in, was then about thirteen years of age. He helped me to arrange the plants, and laughed wildly when Agar mounted the steps to try the effect. He was delicious, with his magnificent eyes with heavy lids like those of his mother, and with his father’s long eyelashes. He was witty, like the Emperor, whom people surnamed “Louis the Imbecile,” and who certainly had the most refined, subtle, and at the same time the most generous wit.