BERLIN, January, 1903.

Dear L.,—­I have been to my first court ball here, I will describe this one to you, and never again.

The invitation we received was very large.  It told us that we were invited by order of his Majesty, King and Emperor, to appear at the Koeniglicheschloss, Thursday, at eight.  We were accompanied, as usual, by the policeman on horseback.  It amused me, while we were waiting in the carriage, to see standing before one of the entrances to the palace a whole line of soldiers with serviettes hung over their shoulders.  They were there for the purpose of washing the dishes after the supper.

As I have said before, the Wendel treppe is very high and tiresome to mount.  We found the hall of the corps de garde filled with youthful pages whose ages are anywhere from fifteen to twenty.  They were dressed in red coats, with large frills of lace, held in place by their mothers’ best diamond brooch, and neat little low shoes with buckles and neat little white silk legs.

I glided along the polished floor through the different rooms, which were empty, save for the numerous chamberlains.  All had papers and diagrams in their hands, and they told the gentlemen as they passed who they were to take in to supper, and the name of the supper-room.  Each room has a name, like “Marine Room,” “Black Eagle Room,” and so forth.

The long gallery was filled with officers, whose uniforms were of every imaginable color and description, and gentlemen who looked as if they had just stepped out of a picture-frame.  They wear their calling on their sleeves, as it were.  The Academician has a different costume from the judge.  I noticed a clergyman in his priestly robes, his Elizabethan ruff around his neck, his breast covered with decorations.  He was sipping a glass of hot punch and smiling benignly about him.  He had a most kind and sympathetic face.  I would like to confess my sins to him, but just now I don’t happen to have any to confess.

Tea was passed about while we were waiting to enter the ballroom.  In the Weissesaal the Corps Diplomatique has a raised platform reserved for it on the right of the throne where we ladies, beginning with the ambassadress, stand, following precedence.  On the other side are all the princesses of the German nobility.  I was shown to my place on the platform.

When the two thousand people collected in this room raised their voices a little more than was seemly, the master of ceremonies pounded his stick on the floor—­there was to be no loud talking—­silence reigned a moment, and then the unruly guests burst out again, and were again reduced to silence by another and more ominous thump.  The orchestra began the march of “Tannhaueser.”  This was the signal for the entrance of the sovereigns.  No one dared to breathe.  People straightened themselves up, the ladies stepped down from their platform.