Some of
my American friends often came with true American curiosity, wanting to
see a phase of French life which was quite novel to them.
W. remained two years as Minister of Public Instruction, and my life
became at once very interesting, very full. We didn't live at the
ministry--it was not really necessary. All the work was over before
dinner, except the "signatures," which W. could do just as well in his
library at home. We went over and inspected the Hotel du Ministere in
the rue de Grenelle before we made our final decision, but it was not
really tempting. There were fine reception-rooms and a pretty garden,
but the living-rooms were small, not numerous, and decidedly gloomy. Of
course I saw much less of W. He never came home to breakfast, except on
Sunday, as it was too far from the rue de Grenelle to the Etoile. The
Arc de Triomphe stands in the Place de l'Etoile at the top of the
Champs-Elysees. All the great avenues, Alma, Jena, Kleber, and the
adjacent streets are known as the Quartier de l'Etoile. It was before
the days of telephones, so whenever an important communication was to be
made to him when he was at home in the evening, a dragoon galloped up
with his little black bag from which he extracted his papers.
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