Madame de Stael comes out, of his house.

She wrote "Lelia." He smiles on her pending the day when he will exile her.

Do you insist on an archduchess?
wait awhile and he will get one.

_Tu, felix Austria, nube._ His Murat is called Saint-Arnaud; his Talleyrand is called Morny; his Duc d'Enghien is called Law.
What does he lack then?
Nothing; a mere trifle; merely Austerlitz and Marengo.
Make the best of it; he is Emperor _in petto_; one of these mornings he will be so in the sun; nothing more is wanting than a trivial formality, the mere consecration and crowning of his false oath at Notre-Dame.

After that we shall have fine doings.