“Now,” said the Queen, “please sing that song which you play for yourself—­the one with such a dash.”  She meant “Biondina.”

“Please, madame,” said the King, when I had finished, “sing ‘Beware’ again.”

Then we went down a little side-staircase for luncheon.  The dining-room is quite small and looks out upon the square.  The table could not have seated more than twelve people.  Besides the King and Queen, there were Prince Hans and Prince Wilhelm (brothers of the King), Prince Valdemar, Princess Thyra, and myself.  There were no ladies or gentlemen in waiting, except the King’s adjutant.

On a side-table were the warm meats, vegetables, and several cold dishes.  No servants were allowed in the room.  It is the only meal when the family are quite alone together; the serving was all done by the royalties themselves.  I felt quite shy when the King proposed to shell my shrimps for me!  “Oh, your Majesty,” I said, “I can do that myself!”

“No,” said he, “I am sure you cannot.  At any rate, not as it ought to be done.”

He was quite right.  I never could have done it so dexterously as he did.  He took the shells off and put the shrimps on some bread—­they looked like little pink worms.  I did not dare to get up and serve myself at the side-table, and rather than be waited on by royalty I preferred eating little and going away hungry.

The King was very gay.  He asked me how I was getting on with my Danish.  I told him some of my mistakes, at which they all laughed.

COPENHAGEN, February, 1878.

Dear Mother,—­After our music and luncheon the other day at the palace the Queen asked me if I would like to drive with her to see Bernstorff Castle, where they spend their summers.  I accepted the invitation with delight.  To drive with her was bliss indeed.

Bernstorff is about an hour’s drive from Copenhagen.  When the open landau appeared in the porte-cochere the Queen got in; I sat on her left and the lady of honor sat opposite.  The Danish royal livery is a bright red covered with braid.  The coachman’s coat has many red capes, one on top of the other, looking like huge pen-wipers.  J. had told me it was not etiquette for any one driving with the Queen to bow.  We happened to pass J. walking with a friend of his, and it seemed odd that I was obliged to cut him dead.

When people see the Queen’s carriage coming they stop their own, and the ladies get out on the sidewalk and make deep courtesies.  Gentlemen bow very low and stand holding their hats in their hands until the royal carriage has passed.

The castle of Bernstorff is neither large nor imposing, but looks home-like and comfortable.  The Queen showed me all over it—­her private rooms, and even upstairs where her atelier is; she paints charmingly—­as well as she plays the piano.

She pointed out on the window-panes of a room over the principal salon different things that her daughters had written with their diamond rings on the glass:  “Farewell, my beautiful clouds!—­Alexandra.”  “Till the next time.—­Dagmar.” “A bientot—­Willie” (the young King of Greece).[1]