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cting the rapid working of those changes. Old families sinking into decay and neglect--time-honoured titles regarded as things that "once were." Their very homes, the palaces, associated with incidents of deep historic interests, converted into hotels or "_Pensionnats_." The very last time I strolled through Paris, I loitered to the "_Quartier_" which, in my young ambition, I regarded with all the reverence the pilgrim yields to Mecca. I remembered the first "_soiree_" in which I was presented, having dined at the Embassy, and being taken in the evening, by the Ambassador, that I might be introduced to the Machiavel of his craft, Prince Talleyrand. Even yet I feel the hot blush which mantled in my cheek as I was passing, with very scant ceremony, the round-shouldered little old man who stood in the very doorway, his wide black coat, far too large for his figure, and his white hair, trimly brushed back from his massive temples. It did not need the warning voice of my introducer, hastily calling my name, to make my sense of shame a perfect agony. "Monsieur Templeton, Monsieur le Prince," said the Ambassador; "the young gentleman of whom I spoke;" and he added, in a tone inaudible to me, something about my career and some mention of my relatives. "Oh, yes!" said the Prince, smiling graciously, "I am aware how 'connexion,' as you call it, operates in England; but permit me, Monsieur," said he, turning towards me, "to give one small piece of advice. It is this: 'If you can win by cards never score the honours.'" The precept had little influence on himself, however. No man ever paid greater deference to the distinctions of rank, or conceded more to the prestige of an ancient name. Neither a general, an orator, nor an author--not even the leader of a faction--this astonishing man stood alone, in the resources of his fertile intellect, directing events, which he appeared to follow, and availing himself of resources which he had stored up for emergency; but so artfully, that they seemed to arise out of the natural current of events. Never disconcerted or abashed--not once thrown off his balance--not more calmly dignified when he stood beside Napoleon at Erfurth, then master of Europe itself, than he was at the Congress of Vienna, when the defeat of France had placed her at the mercy of her enemies. It was in this same house, in the Rue Saint Florentin, that the Emperor Alexander lived when the Allies entered Paris, on the
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