STOCKHOLM, September, 1894.

Dear L.,—­Just as I was going to get a little rest, who should come to Stockholm but the Prince of Naples?  I begged him to give us one evening before he left, which he promised to do.  He seemed as glad to see us as we were to see him.

“What would your Highness like best,” I asked him, “an official dinner followed by a reception, or a little dinner with a dance?”

“Oh, madame, the little dinner and a little dance, by all means.”

So a little dinner it was.  He does not care for dancing, but he knew the lancers and quadrilles, and we danced those.  We played “Fox and geese”; I fancy, from seeing his amusement, that he had never had a real romp in all his life.  To finish, we danced a Virginia reel.  This was new to him and pleased him immensely.  He insisted upon going through the entire dance until every couple had done its part.

A few days later King Oscar sent me the decoration of Litteris at Artibus, which I shall wear on great occasions.  This decoration is a gold medal, and the ribbon that goes with it is blue.  Queen Christina of Sweden instituted the order.  The medal is only given to women of merit, artistic or literary.  Jenny Lind, Frederika Bremer, and Christina Nillson, and others have it.

I have become the doyenne of the Diplomatic Corps.  I intend to make my colleagues walk very straight.  So far my duties consist of dancing in quadrilles d’honneur and always being taken into supper before every one else, and having the first place everywhere; I take precedence of all guests.  These honors do not turn my head.

STOCKHOLM, April, 1897.

Dear L.,—­We have been named to Paris.

Never did people have such a time getting away from a place.

All our furniture except a sofa and two chairs had been packed, and was already on the way to Paris.

The entire morning I was busy receiving notes and bouquets of all dimensions, tied with every imaginable national color.

We breakfasted with our colleagues from Germany, who had the apartment above us.  While still at table a royal chamberlain announced that King Oscar was coming in half an hour to bid us good-by.  Heavens!  How could we receive his Majesty without carpets or curtains, only the sofa and two chairs!  What a predicament!  But our good and kind friends came bravely to the rescue.  They offered to send down rugs, palms, and flowers, so that we could receive our royal guest in the curtainless room.  Well, the palms and plants did certainly make the room look more inviting.  J. camped on the one chair, and the King and I sat on the sofa.  The King stayed half an hour.  We were as sorry to leave him as he was to have us go.  He kissed me on my forehead, and kissed J. on both cheeks, and said, “I shall come to Paris to see you.”

J. escorted the King down-stairs and put him in his carriage, while I wiped away a tear.