which his hotel would be the scene, put
lightly aside with more French excuses.
Upon this, the high-spirited Dutchman,
seeing that no redress was to be had in this
quarter, bade his valets take the law into
their own hands and right themselves on the
first opportunity. This was not long in
presenting itself.

The Mall was crowded with idlers and gay
promenaders, conspicuous among whom,
were to be seen the envoys of the different
countries, each at the head of a brilliant
train. Before long, the two ministers met
face to face. M. le Comte repeated his
demands for satisfaction, and complained of the
length of time allowed to elapse before
conceding his just demands. M. Mesnager
could only repeat—as before—that he had
made every exertion to discover the culprit,
but without success. M. le Comte upon this
stepped aside, and his followers without
further preface, rushed upon those of the
French minister, and a desperate melée
ensued, in which the victory finally remained
with the Dutch. M. Mesnager was indignant
at this conduct, and wrote home to the King,
his master. The great Louis was very wroth,
and despatched angry letters to the States
General refusing to allow his ministers to
take part in the conference, until the offending
minister had been withdrawn. In short,
there were elements here for a very pretty
quarrel, and the congress might have been
cut short prematurely, had not the Count de
Rechteren insisted so strongly on his resignation
being accepted by the States, that they
were forced to give way to his wishes. Thus
was averted an awkward complication—for
Louis was preparing to carry matters with a
high hand.

The plenipotential fifty-four had not been
many days together, when the disturbing
influence of beauty began to make itself felt.
It got abroad that the Count de Tarouca,
envoy of his Portuguese Majesty, was busy
planning a series of fêtes, and was actually
supervising the construction of a superb
dancing pavilion in his garden. Readers will
here bethink them of a certain other pavilion
sent out to a noble ambassador, not so many
months since; which, however, was to add
to the glories of a coronation, not of a sober
conference. Count Tarouca's improvised
ballroom was two hundred feet long, garnished
round with two rows of magnificent orange-
trees, and hung with rich tapestries. But, as
ill luck would have it, on the very eve of the
fête, a difficulty arose, which went nigh to
ruin the whole. It was on a delicate point of
etiquette: the Duc de St. Pierre having
unhappily conceived the idea that the Count
Tarouca owed him the first ceremonial visit.
The Count, on his side, refused to give way,
being persuaded that he was equally entitled
to this unlucky ceremonial visit. Every one
was in despair. The fêtes would be ruined.
For it was well-known that the French.
visitors would take part with their injured
duke, or rather with his brilliant duchess,
who was of their nation, and would absent
themselves from the festival. And it was
felt that a fête without the French strangers
would be indeed lame and impotent. Just
as matters seemed desperate (it was already
the evening before the great day), the
Marquis de Miremond stepped in, through
whose good offices the recalcitrant Count
was prevailed upon to strike, and went
that same night to pay his respects to
the duke and duchess. The beau monde
breathed again. All went merrily as a
marriage-bell.

Those fêtes must have been truly magnificent.
The first day was for the entertainment
of the fifty-four, consisting of a grand
banquet, followed by a theatrical exhibition.
They were seated round a great oval table,
where they were served with the most
exquisite dishes and delicacies. Marvels
of cookery were set before them in such
numbers and profusion as to defy enumeration.
It was remarked, too, that all these
dishes were brought in and set with un ordre
et un tranquillité admirable; which shows
that the blessings of noiseless attendance
were well understood, even in those days.
Fourteen great lustres, and two hundred
lights illuminated this apartment, while at
one end was to be seen a gorgeous buffet of
gold and silver plate, of exquisitely shaped
vases, containing the choicest wines and
liqueurs. Great mirrors—rare enough in
those days—were disposed at intervals round
the room, and a band of musicians in the
gallery discoursed sweet music throughout
the evening. Miracles of confectionery art
were there, gigantic sugar temples, fountains,
and trees with artificial fruit. The service
was exquisite porcelain from Japan. In short,
never was plenipotential heart so rejoiced
before.

Next was to follow the theatrical representation,
to witness which the party adjourned
to a pretty extemporised theatre. Though
this was especially the gentlemen's feast (la
fête des messieurs), and no ladies had been
invited, still, three of the beauties, the Duchess
St. Pierre, with Mesdames Dalwick and
Bergomi, presented themselves at the theatre
door, and were joyfully welcomed by the
noble host. The comedy of La Femme Juge
et Partie then commenced, and was played
admirably by the actors engaged: being
followed by a sort of harlequinade—an
entertainment then very popular. The evening
wound up with an illumination on the water
in front of the Count's hotel, which sent
everybody home delighted with the day's
entertainment.

Next morning ushered in the ladies' feast,
two hundred of whom were invited by the
gallant Count, not to mention many more
who came unbidden, drawn, we are told, by
curiosity, and who were courteously made