_)
The General-President had been established at the Elysee for
some three months, when his _aides-de-camp_ found their labours
considerably increased. At all hours of the day and night they were
called up to receive persons who desired an interview with their chief
and master. As they had received strict orders from His Highness
never to appear in anything but full uniform (cloth of gold tunics,
silver-tissue trousers, and belts and epaulettes of diamonds) they
spent most of their time in changing their costume.
"I am here to see anyone and everyone," said His Highness; "but I look
to you, Gentlemen of the Ring, I should say Household, to see that I
am disturbed by only those who have the right of _entree_. And now,
_houp-la!_ You can go."
Thus dismissed, the unfortunate _aides-de-camp_ could but bow,
and retire in silence. But, though they gave no utterance to their
thoughts, their reflections were of a painful character. They felt
what with five reviews a day, to say nothing of what might be termed
scenes in the circle (attendances at the Bois, dances at the Hotel de
Ville, and the like), their entire exhaustion was only a question of
weeks, or even days.
One morning the General-President, weary of interviews, was about to
retire into his _salle-a-manger_, there to discuss the twenty-five
courses of his simple _dejeuner a la fourchette_, when he was stopped
by a person in a garb more remarkable for its eccentricity than its
richness.
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