“Then, take them up.” He despatched another servant to the Rue de l’Ecu for a box of good ones, which arrived too late. Owing to a most unexpected circumstance, the company only had the opportunity of partaking of a few of them, for they scarcely had time to light cigars, when a telegraphic dispatch arrived. My friend M. Léon told one of the attendants to go and see if his Majesty had left the banqueting-room, and if he was in his cabinet. While this was passing, I took the dispatch in my hand, and by way of a joke, said to him, “As France and England are now allied, and have the same policy, I have here an official English Government letter, which, if you like, I will exchange for your dispatch.” “It might be done,” said he, laughing; “but, upon consideration, the Emperor would very likely prefer his own.” The servant returned, and informed him that the Emperor was still at table. The dispatch remained about ten minutes longer near M. Léon, when they came and apprised him that Napoleon was in his cabinet. M. Léon went up with the dispatch, and in a few minutes returned, saying to me, “Do you know what the contents of the letter you wished to exchange for yours were?” “Certainly not,” I replied. “The contents are, that the Emperor Nicholas is dead.” Every one was thunderstruck by the unexpected announcement, and we could hardly believe it. “If you come up quickly, you will hear the Emperor himself announce it to the company in the banqueting-room.” We obeyed, but only arrived in time to hear the last words--“a cessé de vivre.” Special orders were then given that no demonstration should be made, and a low and mournful conversational sound was alone heard amongst those assembled. A few minutes after leaving the imperial palace, a friend and myself were quietly taking our coffee at a celebrated establishment, and in conversation said loud enough to be heard by our neighbours, that certainly the death of the Emperor Nicholas was very likely to change the state of affairs, as the present Emperor, Alexander was, so we had always heard, rather a pacificator. Before we could finish the remark, an elderly gentleman, who was sitting near us, exclaimed, “What do you say? What do you say, sir?--the Emperor Nicholas dead?” “Yes, sir, he is dead.” “Go to ----, sir; that’s another Crimean shave, like the taking of Sebastopol.” “Sir,” I replied, “I can vouch for this not being a shave, and that his Majesty, the Emperor Nicholas the First of Russia, expired yesterday; and what is more, I will lay you a wager of it.” In a few minutes some jumped upon the chairs and benches, others upon the billiard-table, looking at me, no doubt anxious to see whether I was intoxicated or mad. One gentleman raising his voice, said, “I’ll bet anything this report is not true.” “Done for a dozen of champagne.” “I take you, and we will drink your health at your own expense.”