possible—­not an instruction of any kind from his chief, M. Dufaure, President du Conseil—­very complimentary to him certainly, but the ministers taking no responsibility themselves—­leaving the door open in case he made any mistakes.  It was evident that the Parliament and Government were nervous.  It was rather amusing, when all the preparations for the departure were going on.  W. took a large suite with him, secretaries, huissiers, etc., and I told them they were as much taken up with their coats and embroideries and cocked hats as any pretty woman with her dresses.  I wanted very much to go, but W. thought he would be freer and have more time to think things over if I were not there.  He didn’t know Berlin at all, had never seen Bismarck nor any of the leading German statesmen, and was fully conscious how his every word and act would be criticised.  However, if a public man is not criticised, it usually means that he is of no consequence—­so attacks and criticisms are rather welcome—­act as a stimulant.  I could have gone and stayed unofficially with a cousin, but he thought that wouldn’t do.  St. Vallier was a bachelor; it would have been rather an affair for him to organise at the embassy an apartment for a lady and her maids, though he was most civil and asked me to come.

[Illustration:  M. William Waddington.  In the uniform he wore as Minister of Foreign Affairs and at the Berlin Congress, 1878]

I felt rather lonely in the big ministry when they had all gone, and I was left with baby.  W. stayed away just five weeks, and I performed various official things in his absence—­among others the Review of the 14th of July.  The distinguished guest on that occasion was the Shah of Persia, who arrived with the Marechale in a handsome open carriage, with outriders and postilions.  The marshal of course was riding.  The Shah was not at all a striking figure, short, stout, with a dark skin, and hard black eyes.  He had handsome jewels, a large diamond fastening the white aigrette of his high black cap, and his sword-hilt incrusted with diamonds.  He gave a stiff little nod in acknowledgment of the bows and curtseys every one made when he appeared in the marshal’s box.  He immediately took his seat on one side of the Marechale in front of the box, one of the ambassadresses, Princess Hohenlohe I think, next to him.  The military display seemed to interest him.  Every now and then he made some remark to the Marechale, but he was certainly not talkative.  While the interminable line of the infantry regiments was passing, there was a move to the back of the box, where there was a table with ices, champagne, etc.  Madame de MacMahon came up to me, saying:  “Madame Waddington, Sa Majeste demande les nouvelles de M. Waddington,” upon which His Majesty planted himself directly in front of me, so close that he almost touched me, and asked in a quick, abrupt manner, as if he were firing off a shot:  “Ou est votre mari?” (neither Madame, nor M. Waddington,