The orderly officer on duty has the honour to inform Monsieur the General Changarnier that he is invited to dinner at the Elysee-National on Saturday, at 7 o’clock. I wrote below it: “Delivered by mistake to M. Victor Hugo,” and sent the letter back by the dragoon who had brought it. An hour later came another letter from M. de Persigny, Prince Louis’s former companion in plots, to-day his private secretary. This letter contained profuse apologies for the error committed and advised me that I was among those invited. My letter had been addressed by mistake to M. Conti, the Representative from Corsica. At the head of M. de Persigny’s letter, written with a pen, were the words: “Household of the President.” I remarked that the form of these invitations was exactly similar to the form employed by King Louis Philippe. As I did not wish to do anything that might resemble intentional coldness, I dressed; it was half past 6, and I set out immediately for the Elysee. Half past 7 struck as I arrived there. As I passed I glanced at the sinister portal of the Praslin mansion adjoining the Elysee. The large green carriage entrance, enframed between two Doric pillars of the time of the Empire, was closed, gloomy, and vaguely outlined by the light of a street lamp. One of the double doors of the entrance to the Elysee was closed; two soldiers of the line were on guard. The court-yard was scarcely lighted, and a mason in his working clothes with a ladder on his shoulder was crossing it; nearly all the windows of the outhouses on the right had been broken, and were mended with paper. I entered by the door on the perron. Three servants in black coats received me; one opened the door, another took my mantle, the third said: “Monsieur, on the first floor!” I ascended the grand staircase. There were a carpet and flowers on it, but that chilly and unsettled air about it peculiar to places into which one is moving. On the first floor an usher asked: “Monsieur has come to dinner?” “Yes,” I said. “Are they at table?” “Yes, Monsieur.” “In that case, I am off.” “But, Monsieur,” exclaimed the usher, “nearly everybody arrived after the dinner had begun; go in. Monsieur is expected.” I remarked this military and imperial punctuality, which used to be customary with Napoleon. With the Emperor 7 o’clock meant 7 o’clock.