The entertainments went on pretty well that year until August, almost all the embassies and ministries receiving.  Queen Isabella of Spain was then living in the big house in the Avenue Kleber, called the “Palais d’Espagne” (now the Hotel Majestic).  We used to meet her often driving in the Bois.  She was a big, stout, rather red-faced woman, didn’t make much effect in a carriage in ordinary street dress, but in her palace, when she received or gave an audience, she was a very royal lady.  I asked for an audience soon after W. was named to the Foreign Office.  We knew one of her chamberlains very well, Duc de M., and he arranged it for me.  I arrived at the palace on the appointed day a little before four (the audience was for four).  The big gates were open, a tall porter dressed in red and gold lace and buttons, and a staff in his hand, was waiting—­two or three men in black, and four or five footmen in red liveries and powder, at the door and in the hall.  I was shown at once to a small room on the ground floor, where four or five ladies, all Spanish and all fat, were waiting.  In a few minutes the duke appeared.  We talked a little (he looking at me to see if I had taken off my veil and my right-hand glove) and then a man in black appeared at the door, making a low bow and saying something in Spanish.  The duke said would I come, Her Majesty was ready to receive me.  We passed through several salons where there were footmen and pages (no ladies) until we came to a very large one quite at the other end of the palace.  The big doors were open, and at the far end I saw the Queen standing, a stately figure (enormous), dressed in a long black velvet dress, a high diamond tiara on her head, from which hung a black lace veil, a fan in her hand (I suppose no Spanish woman of any station ever parts with her fan) and a splendid string of pearls.  I made my curtsey on the threshold, the chamberlain named me with the usual formula:  “I have the honour to present to Your Majesty, Madame Waddington, the wife of the Minister of Foreign Affairs,” then backed himself out of the room, and I proceeded down the long room to the Queen.  She didn’t move, let me make my two curtseys, one in the middle of the room, one when I came close up to her—­and then shook hands.  We remained standing a few minutes and then she sat down on a sofa (not a very small one) which she quite filled, and motioned me to take an armchair on one side.  She was very amiable, had a charming smile, spoke French very well but with a strong Spanish accent.  She said she was very glad to see my husband at the Foreign Office, and hoped he would stay long enough to do some real work—­said she was very fond of France, loved driving in the streets of Paris, there was always so much to see and the people looked gay.  She was very fond of the theatres, particularly the smaller ones, liked the real Parisian wit and gaiety better than the measured phrase and trained diction of the Francais and the Odeon.  She spoke most