However, everything must end, and W. had to go back to the fight, which promised to be lively. In Paris we found people wearing furs and preparing for a cold winter. The house of the Quai d'Orsay was comfortable, well warmed, calorifères and big fires in all the rooms, and whenever there was any sun it poured into the rooms from the garden. I didn't take up my official afternoon receptions. The session had not begun, and, as it seemed extremely unlikely that the coming year would see us still at the Quai d'Orsay, it was not worth while to embark upon that dreary function. I was at home every afternoon after five--had tea in my little blue salon, and always had two or three people to keep me company. Prince Hohenlohe came often, settled himself in an armchair with his cup of tea, and talked easily and charmingly about everything. He was just back from Germany and reported Bismarck and the Emperor (I should have said, perhaps, the Emperor and Bismarck) as rather worried over the rapid strides France was making in radicalism. He reassured them, told them Grévy was essentially a man of peace, and, as long as moderate men like W., Léon Say, and their friends remained in office, things would go quietly. "Yes, if they remain. I have an idea we shan't stay much longer, and report says Freycinet will be the next premier." He evidently had heard the same report, and spoke warmly of Freycinet,--intelligent, energetic, and such a precise mind. If W. were obliged to resign, which he personally would regret, he thought Freycinet was the coming man--unless Gambetta wanted to be premier. He didn't think he did, was not quite ready yet, but his hand might be forced by his friends, and of course if he wanted it, he would be the next Président du Conseil. He also told me a great many things that Blowitz had said to him--he had a great opinion of him--said he was so marvellously well-informed of all that was going on. It was curious to see how a keen, clever man like Prince Hohenlohe attached so much importance to anything that Blowitz said. The nuncio, Monseigneur Czaski, came too sometimes at tea-time. He was a charming talker, but I always felt as if he were saying exactly what he meant to and what he wanted me to repeat to W. I am never quite sure with Italians. There is always a certain reticence under their extremely natural, rather exuberant manner. Monseigneur Czaski was not an Italian by birth--a Pole, but I don't know that they inspire much more confidence. X PARLIAMENT BACK IN PARIS