It would be difficult for a painter to imagine a scene more interesting, or even more poetical, than the one which thus suddenly presented itself to me. The long golden hair of the child fell forward in a glittering shower, blending with the silvery masses which, to the latest hour of his life, shaded in such luxuriant abundance the calm brow of the prince; and, as he bent down over her, the contrast between the fair and blooming face, animated as it was by the glow of youth and the excitement of the game, with that cold, impenetrable countenance, those fixed and marble features, was rendered yet more striking. It was the dim immovable Past, seeking to interrogate the busy, smiling Future; Old Time striving to detain one single rosy hour, and pausing to gaze while yet the charm endured. There was, indeed, over the whole scene a shadow of bygone times, which the graceful figure of that fair girl alone seemed to attach to the Present. The drawing-room into which I was ushered was noble and lofty, although an _entresol_, and through the high casements the setting sun of autumn poured in its rich and glowing beams, seeming to pause in fondness over that scene, and, forgetting all besides, to linger there. Through the arched vista of the Tuileries, late so green, but already bared of foliage, the darkening sky gave token of the near approach of twilight, and I could not help being struck with the fitness of the emblem. I had leisure to contemplate the scene, for the low suppressed laughter of the child, and the playful growling of old Carlo, had prevented the announcement of my name from immediately reaching the ear of his excellency, and it was not till I stood within a step or two of his chair that he became aware of my presence. He then rose slightly, leaning on his cane, and gave me that gracious and courtly welcome—a reminiscence of the old _régime_—which neither his passage through the revolutionary mire, nor even across the broad Atlantic, had been able to mar. That bland and polished urbanity was the attribute of a race of men of which he was the last representative, and of which we shall see the like no more. My conference with him was but short, and passed chiefly in inquiry after the friends I had left; some few questions concerning my future destination; an observation or two respecting the _chargé d’affaires_ at that time resident at the court to which I was bound; but nothing further; and I, who had indulged in vague dreams of the treasures of advice concerning my new career, to be gathered during this interview, was just on the point of taking my leave, without having dared to breathe a hint upon the subject which lay uppermost in my thoughts, when, to my delight, amid the numberless kind things he uttered upon the subject of my journey, he added, with a bland and courteous smile, which from the old to the young so greatly enhances the value of the kind speech, “Vous viendrez nous voir à Valençay?”