For some have quitted these comfortable chairs, in these quiet double-windowed rooms overlooking the Rue de Rivoli, for no better fate.
It was in the August of 1850 that a stout gentleman, seated in one of these comfortable chairs, succumbed so far to the warmth of the palace corridors as to fall asleep.

He was not in the room of a high official, but in the waiting-room attached to it.
He knew, moreover, that the High Official himself was scarcely likely to dismiss a previous visitor or a present occupation any the earlier for being importuned; for he was aware of the official's antecedents, and knew that a Jack-in-office, who has shouted himself into office, is nearly always careful to be deaf to other voices than his own.
Moreover, Mr.John Turner was never pressed for time.
"Yes," he had been known to say, "I was in Paris in '48.

Never missed a meal." Whereas others, with much less at stake than this great banker, had omitted not only meals, but their night's rest--night after night--in those stirring times.
John Turner was still asleep when the door leading to the Minister's room was cautiously opened, showing an inner darkness such as prevails in an alcove between double doors.

The door opened a little wider.
No doubt the peeping eye had made sure that the occupant of the waiting-room was asleep.

On the threshold stood a man of middle height, who carried himself with a certain grace and quiet dignity.