When I had had enough of the speeches and the bad atmosphere, I used to wander about the terraces and gardens. How many beautiful sunsets I have seen from the top of the terrace or else standing on the three famous pink marble steps (so well known to all lovers of poetry through Alfred de Musset's beautiful verses, "Trois Marches Roses"), seeing in imagination all the brilliant crowd of courtiers and fair women that used to people those wonderful gardens in the old days of Versailles! I went sometimes to the "Reservoirs" for a cup of tea, and very often found other women who had also driven out to get their husbands. We occasionally brought back friends who preferred the quiet cool drive through the Park of St. Cloud to the crowd and dust of the railway. The Count de St. Vallier (who was not yet senator, but deeply interested in politics) was frequently at Versailles and came back with us often. He was a charming, easy talker. I never tired of hearing about the brilliant days of the last Empire, and the fêtes at the Tuileries, Compiègne, and St. Cloud. He had been a great deal at the court of Napoleon III, had seen many interesting people of all kinds, and had a wonderful memory. He must have had an inner sense or presentiment of some kind about the future, for I have heard him say often in speaking of the old days and the glories of the Empire, when everything seemed so prosperous and brilliant, that he used often to ask himself if it could be real--Were the foundations as solid as they seemed! He had been a diplomatist, was in Germany at the time of the Franco-German War, and like so many of his colleagues scattered over Germany, was quite aware of the growing hostile feeling in Germany to France and also of Bismarck's aims and ambitions. He (like so many others) wrote repeated letters and warnings to the French Foreign Office, which apparently had no effect. One heard afterward that several letters of that description from French diplomatists in Germany were found unopened in a drawer at the ministry. It was rather sad, as we drove through the stately alleys of the Park of St. Cloud, with the setting sun shining through the fine old trees, to hear of all the fêtes that used to take place there,--and one could quite well fancy the beautiful Empress appearing at the end of one of the long avenues, followed by a brilliant suite of ladies and écuyers,--and the echoes of the cor de chasse in the distance. The alleys are always there, and fairly well kept, but very few people or carriages pass. The park is deserted. I don't think the cor de chasse would awaken an echo or a regret even, so entirely has the Empire and its glories become a thing of the past. A rendezvous de chasse was a very pretty sight.