The return to Paris of several _grandes dames_ promised a gradual reorganization of “_la bonne compagnie_,” and several of the contractors’ wives were ambitious to be received in the Faubourg St. Germain; and one of them, Madame Privas, who was desirous of opening her _salon_ to the _beau monde_, having read Madame de Genlis’ work, “Adèle et Théodore,” at once exclaimed to her husband: “Privas! this is the lady for us.” Whereupon Madame Privas arrayed herself in resplendent robes, and attended by a negro servant in Moorish costume, she entered her gorgeous carriage and proceeded to take Madame de Genlis by storm. She had not the least doubt of the success of her errand, which was no less than the attempt to secure Madame de Genlis, who had returned to Paris in pinched circumstances, to come to her magnificent hotel in the Rue St. Dominique, and as a lady, receive for her: in short, put her in the way of learning the old etiquette with which she should honor people who were quite _comme il faut_. And so with pompous brusqueness she announces the object of her visit to Madame de Genlis. She would give her a salary of twelve thousand francs. She would promise not to tyrannize over her, and even if she had a dear friend she also would be welcome. What more could she require? “Madame, I thank you for your obliging offer, which I have the honor to inform you it is not in my power to accept,” replied Madame de Genlis, rising with the courtly manner of a _grande dame_ of the court of the _Grand Monarque_. “You refuse it!” cried Madame Privas in astonishment. “Why, I offer much more than you can get for your books. And besides, you would have friends in us;—friends with a fortune of five millions. _C’est beau, ca! eh?_” “Madame,” replied Madame de Genlis, “I have answered you. It is impossible.” “Well, adieu then, my _bonne dame_. Privas and I made sure you would jump at the offer. In case you should change your mind, I’ll leave you my address. Write me, if you think better of it.” And with her plumes waving in ruffled pride, and her velvets and satins rustling in their gorgeous costliness, Madame Privas bounced out of the room, forgetting her assumed elegance of manner at the affront offered to her darling dollars. Josephine’s manners, “_en representation_,” were charming. She appeared a very queen at the emperor’s public receptions. Her air and attitude were dignified, graceful, and yet natural. She conversed with ease and fluency, employing the choicest terms of expression; and the spectator could not resist a pleased astonishment at the gracious bearing which charmed all classes of society, and at her alluring tact which enabled her to address crowds of persons in quick succession, and yet with a pleasing and appropriate word to each, turning with equal ease from a tradesman to a monarch.