Then there was a dinner at Dr.
Gilchrist's whose widow our old friend Pepe, who for many years had always called her "Madame Ghee-cree," subsequently married.

My notes, written the same evening, remind me that "I did not much like the radical old Doctor (his wife was an old acquaintance, but I had never seen him before); he is eighty, and ought to know better.

Old Nymzevitch (I am not sure of the spelling), the ex-Chancellor of Poland, dined with us.

He is eighty-four.

When he said that he had conversed with the Duc de Richelieu, I started as if he had announced himself as the Wandering Jew.