“Have you learned Danish yet?” the King asked me.

“Alas! your Majesty,” I answered, “though I try very hard to learn, I have not mastered it yet, and only dare to inflict it on my family.”

“You will not find it difficult,” he said.  “You will learn it in time.”

“I hope so, your Majesty—­Time is a good teacher.”

He told me an anecdote about Queen Desiree, of Sweden, wife of Bernadotte, who on her arrival in Stockholm did not know one word of Swedish.

She was taught certain phrases to use at her first reception when ladies were presented to her.  She was to say, “Are you married, madame?” and then, “Have you any children?” Of course, she did not understand the answers.  “She was very unlucky,” the King laughed, “and got things mixed up, and once began her conversation with a lady by asking, ‘Have you any children?’”

The lady hastened to answer, “Yes, your Majesty, I have seven?”

“Are you married?” asked the Queen, very graciously.

“You must not do anything like that,” said the King, smilingly.

I promised that I would try not to.

The Grande Maitresse came in, and I thought it was the signal for me to go—­which apparently it was.  There was a little pause; then the Queen held out her hand and said, “I hope to see you again very soon.”  The King shook hands kindly with me, and I reached the antechamber, escorted by the ladies.

My next audience was with the Crown Princess.  She is the daughter of the late King of Sweden (Carl XV.) and niece of the present King Oscar, whom I used to know in Paris.  This audience was not so ceremonious as the one I had had with the Queen.  There was only one lady-in-waiting, who received me in the salon adjoining that of the Princess.  She accompanied me to the door, presented me, and withdrew, leaving us together.  In the beginning the conversation palled somewhat.  I had been warned that it was not etiquette for me to start any subject of conversation, though I might enlarge on it once it had been broached.  The Crown Princess was so kind as to speak of something which she thought would interest me, and the conventional half-hour passed pleasantly and quickly.

I had other audiences.  The Queen Dowager, the widow of King Christian VIII., lives in one of the four palaces in the square of Amalienborg.  She is very stately, and received me with great etiquette.  She was dressed in a stiff black brocade dress, with a white lace head-dress over her bandeaux; she wore short, white, tight kid gloves.  She spoke French, and was most kind, telling me a great deal about Denmark and its history, which interested me very much.

As Mademoiselle de Rosen, her first dame d’honneur, re-entered the room I made my courtesy, kissed the Queen’s hand, and the audience was over.

Johan accompanied me to the fourth audience, which for me was the most difficult one.  It was with the Princess Caroline, widow of Prince Ferdinand, brother of King Christian VIII., who died when he was heir-apparent to the throne.  She spoke only Danish to us, so I sat and gazed about, not understanding a word she said to Johan.