King Edward and the Queen supped at the table of the Emperor, and immediately afterward retired to their rooms and were seen no more.  During the whole evening they had not spoken to a single person.

The next morning their Majesties took their departure from the Lehrter station.  We went to bid them good-by.  The Emperor, in speaking to me, said, “You know, my uncle had such a fright the other night when he saw the fire, he wanted to leave the theater; it was only when I told him that the flames were chiffon that I could quiet him.”

When King Edward bade me good-by he said, “Please remember me to Countess Raben,” and added, laughingly, “I mean the daughter.”

Saint-Saens and Massenet came to Berlin to assist at a sort of Congres de musique.  Massenet was invited to lead the orchestra in “Manon,” and Saint-Saens that of “Samson and Delilah.”  They accepted an invitation to lunch at our house, and I was delighted to see them again.  They had come, they said, with prejudices on fire.  They were sure that they would dislike everything German; but, having been begged to visit the Kaiser in his loge after the performance, they came away from the interview burning with enthusiasm.  How charming the Emperor was!  How full of interest!  So natural! etc., etc.  They could not find words for their admiration.  That is the way with the Emperor.  He charms every one.

The first of my articles about Compiegne appeared in Harper’s Magazine in the summer.  At the ball at court in the following January the Kaiser came to speak to me, his face beaming with the kindest of smiles.

“I can’t tell you how I have enjoyed your articles, I read them to myself and read them out loud to the Empress.”

“How,” said I “did your Majesty discover them?”

“I have always taken Harper’s Magazine, ever since I was a little boy.  You may imagine how astonished I was when I saw something from your pen.  Your description of Napoleon the Third is quite historical.  You gave me a new idea of him.  In many ways I always regret that I never saw him.  I could have once, when I was quite small.  I was with my parents at Nice, and the Emperor came there, but I did not see him.”

BERLIN, May 1912.

Dear L.,—­On the 14th we had just returned from a long motor trip, arriving late in the evening.  How fortunate that we did not arrive a day later!  The next morning Johan was called on the telephone.  The message was from Hamburg, to say that our King (Frederick VIII) had died there, suddenly in the night.  Johan, of course, took the first train for Hamburg.

This was dreadful news.