We went back to the ballroom after the royalties had passed us again.  The clouds outside were very oppressive.

Then the traditional Fackeltanz commenced.  The Corps Diplomatique had a platform to itself, fenced in with cords.  We were so crowded that had it not been for the cord which held us in our places we would have tumbled out.

The ladies of the nobility also had a platform.  The herald, dressed in a short medieval, red-velvet costume, with the embroidered coat of arms of Germany on his breast, advanced, trumpet in hand, and announced that the Fackeltanz was about to begin.  The orchestra played a gavotte; and the Crown Prince, giving his hand to the Empress, and the Crown Princess giving hers to the Emperor, preceded by eight pages with torches and by Prince Fuerstenberg, walked around the room.  When they arrived before the throne they made the most reverential of bows before parting with their Majesties, who took their places on the throne.  The Princess’s train was carried by four young ladies, and by her side walked Countess Harrach, one of the dames de palais.  After this the Princess walked with every prince according to his rank, sometimes with two, one on each side, and the Prince walked with two ladies.  Each tour of the salon they made they stopped in front of the Emperor and bowed and received their next partner.  Fancy what fatigue!

The storm which we had expected now really burst upon us.  Peals of thunder mingled with the strains of the orchestra, and almost shook the ground.

At eleven o’clock the Princess had danced with every one and had made hundreds of courtesies, and on the signal given by their Majesties retired with her suite.  We went down the Hoelletreppe (in English, hell-stairs), a rather diabolical name, but I hope it was paved with better intentions than the Wendeltreppe, where we went up.  My intention was, bed.

We found our carriages and drenched coachman and dragged our trains home to their resting-places.

We had been eight hours under arms.

Every one received a white ribbon with a little gold fringe on the end, bearing the monogram of the married couple.  It was a honi soit qui mat y pense remembrance of the royal wedding.

Prince Wilhelm Hohenzollern,[2] cousin of the Emperor, is a great philatelist, and brought his magnificent collection of albums (eight or ten large ones) to show me, and a pile of duplicates.  His victoria was quite filled when he drove up to our door, and his chasseur had to make two trips to bring them all up.  Collectors of postage-stamps make a brotherhood in themselves.  He knew each stamp in his books, and explained all to us.

      [2] Father of the princess who married the young ex-King
      of Portugal, Manuel, in 1913.