I woke in an hour’s time, for I have the precious gift of being able to sleep ten minutes, a quarter of an hour, or an hour, just as I like, and I then wake quite peacefully without any start, at the time I have decided upon. Nothing does me so much good as this rest to body and mind, decided upon and regulated merely by my will. Very often in my own family I have lain down on the bearskin hearth rug in front of the fire, telling everyone to go on talking and take no notice of me. I have then slept, perhaps for an hour, and on waking have found two or three newcomers in the room who, not wishing to disturb me, have taken part in the general conversation, while waiting until I should wake up to present their respects to me. Even now I lie down on the huge, wide sofa in the little Empire _salon_ which leads into my _loge_ and I sleep while waiting for the friends and _artistes_, with whom I have made appointments, to be ushered in. When I open my eyes I see the faces of my kind friends, who shake hands cordially, delighted that I should have had some rest. My mind is then tranquil and I am ready to listen to all the beautiful ideas proposed to me or to decline the absurdities submitted to me, without being ungracious. I woke up, then, at the Albemarle Hotel an hour later and found myself lying on the rug. I opened the door of my room and discovered my dear Guérard and my faithful Félicie seated on a trunk. “Are there any people there still?” I asked. “Oh, madame! there are about a hundred now,” answered Félicie. “Help me take my things off then, quickly,” I said, “and find me a white dress.” In about five minutes I was ready, and I felt that I looked nice from head to foot. I went into the drawing-room, where all these unknown persons were waiting. Jarrett came forward to meet me, but on seeing me well dressed and with a smiling face, he postponed the sermon that he wanted to preach me.