In Vienna we had occasion to accompany Jimmie and “Little Papa” on business expeditions which led him into the wholesale district.  There it was universal for all the clerks to be seated at their work, particularly in the jeweller’s shops.  At our entrance, every man and woman there, from the proprietor to the errand boys, rose to their feet, bowed, and said “Good day.”

When we finished our purchases, or even if we only looked and came away without buying, this was all repeated, which sometimes gave me the sensation of having been to a court function.

Vienna fashions are very elegant.  Being the seat of the court, there is a great deal of dress.  There is wealth, and the shops are magnificent.  Personally, I much prefer the fashions of Vienna to those of Paris.  Prices are perhaps a little more moderate, but the truly Paris creation generally has the effect of making one think it would be beautiful on somebody else.  I can go to Worth, Felix, and Doucet, and half a dozen others equally as smart, and not see ten models that I would like to own.  In Vienna there were Paris clothes, of course, but the Viennese have modified them, producing somewhat the same effect as American influence on Paris fashions.  To my mind they are more elegant, having more of reserve and dignity in their style, and a distinct morality.  Paris clothes generally look immoral when you buy them, and feel immoral when you get them on.  There is a distinct spiritual atmosphere about clothes.  In Vienna this was very noticeable.  I speak more of clothes in Paris and Vienna, as there are only four cities in the world where one would naturally buy clothes,—­Paris, Vienna, London, and New York.  In other cities you buy other things, articles perhaps distinctive of the country.

When you get to St. Petersburg, in your shopping experiences, you will find a mixture of Teuton and Slav which is very perplexing.  We were particularly anxious to get some good specimens of Russian enamel, which naturally one supposes to be more inexpensive in the country which creates them, but to our distress we discovered Avenue de l’Opera prices on everything we wished.  Each time that we went back the price was different.  The market seemed to fluctuate.  One blue enamelled belt, upon which I had set my heart, varied in price from one to three dollars each time I looked at it.  Finally, one day I hit upon a plan.  I asked my friend, Mile, de Falk, to follow me into this shop and not speak to me, but to notice the particular belt I held in my hand.  I then went out without purchasing, and the next day my friend sent her sister, who speaks nothing but Russian and French, to this shop.  She purchased the belt for ten dollars less than it had been offered to me.  She ordered a different lining made for it, and the shopkeeper said in guileless Russian, “How strange it is that ladies all over the world are alike.  For a week two American young ladies have been in here looking at this belt, and by a strange coincidence they also wished this same lining.”