There was a supper up-stairs for all the royalties before the cotillion.  I was told that the Duc d’Aumale would take me to supper.  I was very pleased (as we knew him very well and he was always charming to us) but much surprised, as the Orleans princes never remained for supper at any big official function.  There would have been questions of place and precedence which would have been very difficult to settle.  When the move was made for supper, things had to be changed, as the Orleans princes had gone home.  The Crown Prince of Denmark took me.  The supper-room was prettily arranged, two round tables—­Lord Lyons with the Princesses of Wales and Denmark presiding at one—­his niece, the Duchesse of Norfolk, at the other, with the Princes of Wales and Denmark.  I sat between the Princes of Denmark and Sweden.  Opposite me, next the Prince of Wales, sat a lady I didn’t know.  Every one else at the table did.  She was very attractive-looking, with a charming smile and most animated manner.  I asked the Prince of Denmark in a low voice, who she was—­thought it must be one of the foreign princesses I hadn’t yet met.  The Prince of Wales heard my question, and immediately, with his charming tact and ease of manner, said to me:  “You don’t know the Princesse Mathilde; do let me have the pleasure of presenting you to her,” naming me at once—­in my official capacity, “wife of the Minister of Foreign Affairs.”  The princess was very gracious and smiling, and we talked about all sorts of things—­some of her musical protegees, who were also mine.  She asked me if I liked living at the ministry, Quai d’Orsay; she remembered it as such a beautiful house.  When the party broke up, she shook hands, said she had not the pleasure of knowing M. Waddington, but would I thank him from her for what he had done for one of her friends.  I tried to find W. after supper to present him to the princess, but he had already gone, didn’t stay for the cotillion—­the princess, too, went away immediately after supper.  I met her once or twice afterward.  She was always friendly, and we had little talks together.  Her salon—­she received once a week—­was quite a centre—­all the Bonapartists of course, the diplomatic corps, many strangers, and all the celebrities in literature and art.

With that exception I never saw nor talked with any member of that family until I had been some years a widow, when the Empress Eugenie received me on her yacht at Cowes.  When the news came of the awful tragedy of the Prince Imperial’s death in Zululand, W. was Foreign Minister, and he had invited a large party, with music.  W. instantly put off the party, said there was no question of politics or a Bonapartist prince—­it was a Frenchman killed, fighting bravely in a foreign country.  I always thought the Empress knew about it and appreciated his act, for during his embassy in London, though we never saw her, she constantly sent him word through mutual friends of little negotiations she knew about and thought