d the groups of political talkers,
assuming a serious air, and feigning to scorn the charms of the
smaller salon, whence came to me, with the pleasant sound of laughter
and the tinkling of teaspoons against the porcelain, a delicate aroma
of scented tea, of Spanish wines and cakes. At last they came back to
dance, and I gathered up my courage. I entered, I was alone.

What a dazzling sight was that buffet. A crystal pyramid under the
blaze of the candles, brilliant with glasses and decanters, white and
glittering as snow in the sunshine. I took up a glass as fragile as a
flower, careful not to hold it too tightly lest I should break the
stem. What should I pour into it? Come now, courage, I say to myself,
since no one can see me. I stretched out my hand, and took at
haphazard a decanter. It must be kirsch, I thought, from its diamond
clearness. Well, I'll try a glass of kirsch; I like its perfume, its
bitter and wild perfume that reminds me of the forest. And so, like an
epicure, I slowly poured out, drop by drop, the beautiful clear
liquid. I raised the glass to my lips. Oh, horror, it was only water.
What a grimace I made. Suddenly a duet of laughter resounded from a
black coat and a pink dress that I had not perceived flirting in the
corner, and who were amused at my mistake.

I endeavored to replace my glass, but I was nervous, my hand shook,
and my sleeve caught I know not what. One glass, two glasses, three
glasses fell. I turned round, my wretched coat tails swept a wild
circle, and the white pyramid crashed to the ground, with all the
sparkling, splintering, flashing uproar of an iceberg breaking to
pieces.

At the noise of the catastrophe the mistress of the house rushed up.
Luckily, she is as short-sighted as the Wallachian prince, and he is
able to escape from the buffet without being recognized. All the same,
my evening is spoiled. The massacre of small glasses and decanters
weighs on my mind like a crime. My one idea is to get away. But the
Dubois mama, dazzled by my principality, catches hold of me and will
not allow me to leave till I have danced with her daughter, or indeed
with both her daughters. I excuse myself as best as I can; when a tall
old man with a shrewd smile, stopt my egress. It is Doctor Ricord,
with whom I had exchanged a few words previously and who, like the
others, takes me for the Wallachian. "But, Prince, as you are
inhabiting the Hotel du Senat, and as we are near neighbors, pray