sons in service,
which he gave to some of his friends. I insert a description of that
festivity in my memoirs, as one of the most interesting things I have
seen during my four years' residence in Paris.

I supposed at first, when M. Francis, Monpavon's valet de chambre,
mentioned the affair to me, that it was to be one of the little
clandestine junkets such as they sometimes have in the attic rooms on
our boulevard, with the leavings sent up by Mademoiselle Seraphine and
the other cooks in the house, where they drink stolen wine and stuff
themselves, sitting on trunks, trembling with fear, by the light of two
candles which they put out at the slightest noise in the corridors.
Such underhand performances are repugnant to my character. But when I
received an invitation on pink paper, written in a very fine hand, as
if for a ball given by the people of the house:

_M. Noel pri M.--de se randre a sa soire du 25 couran._

_On soupra._[3]

[3] M. Noel requests the pleasure of M. ----'s company on the
evening of the 25th instant. Supper.

I saw, notwithstanding the defective orthography, that it was a
serious, authoritative function; so I arrayed myself in my newest frock
coat and my finest linen, and betook myself to Place Vendome, to the
address indicated by the invitation.

M. Noel had selected for his party the evening of a first performance
at the Opera, which society attended _en masse_, so that the whole
household had the bit in their teeth until midnight, and the entire
house at their disposal. Nevertheless, our host had preferred to
receive us in his room in the upper part of the house, and I strongly
approved his judgment, being therein of the opinion of the good man who
said:

Fi du plaisir
Que la crainte peut corrompre![4]

[4]

A fig for the pleasure
Which fear can destroy!

But talk to me about the attics on Place Vendome! A thick carpet on the
floor, the bed out of sight in an alcove, Algerian curtains with red
stripes, a green marble clock, the whole lighted by patent
self-regulating lamps. Our dean, M. Chalmette, at Dijon had no better
quarters than that. I arrived about nine o'clock with Monpavon's old
Francis, and I must confess that my appearance created a sensation,
preceded as I was by the fame of my academic past, by my reputation for
refined manners and great learning. My fine bearing did the rest, for I
must say that I know how to car