anything serious. So
bent on being happy was every one that I really believe that a Uhlan in
the midst of them would not have disturbed their equanimity. "Come what
may, to-day we will be merry," seemed to be the feeling; "let us leave
care to the morrow, and make the most of what may be our last fete day."

Mr. Malet, the English secretary, who returned yesterday from Meaux, had
no small difficulty in getting through the Prussian lines. He started on
Thursday evening for Creil in a train with a French officer. When they
got to Creil, they knocked up the Mayor, and begged him to procure them
a horse. He gave them an order for the only one in the town. Its
proprietor was in bed, and when they knocked at his door his wife cried
out from the window, "My husband is a coward and won't open." A voice
from within was heard saying, "I go out at night for no one." So they
laid hands on the horse and harnessed it to a gig. All night long they
drove in what they supposed was the direction of the Prussian outposts,
trumpeting occasionally like elephants in a jungle. In the morning they
found themselves in a desert, not a living soul to be seen, so they
turned back towards Paris, got close in to the forts, and started in
another direction. Occasionally they discerned a distant Uhlan, who rode
off when he saw them. On Friday night they slept among the
Francs-tireurs, and on the following morning they pushed forward again
with an escort. Soon they saw a Prussian outpost, and after waving for
some time a white flag, an officer came forward. After a parley Mr.
Malet and his friend were allowed to pass. At three o'clock they arrived
at Meaux. Count Bismarck was just driving into the town; he at once
recognised Mr. Malet, whom he had known in Germany, and begged him to
call upon him at nine o'clock. From Mr. Malet I know nothing more. I
tried to "interview" him with respect to his conversation with Count
Bismarck, but it takes two to make a bargain, and in this bargain he
declined to be the number two. About half an hour afterwards, however, I
met a foreign diplomatist of my acquaintance who had just come from the
British Embassy. He had heard Mr. Malet's story, which, of course, had
been communicated to the Corps Diplomatique, and being slightly
demoralised, without well thinking what he was doing, he confided it to
my sympathising ear.

Mr. Malet, at nine o'clock, found Count Bismarck seated before a table
with wine and cigars. He was