Every time the Queen turned, Marquis Guiccioli (the Queen's chamberlain) bent down to the ground and arranged her train, spreading it out flat on the floor. When the Queen caught sight of me a smile of recognition pa.s.sed over her face, and when she gave me her hand she said: "I am so glad to see you again, and so happy to know that we are going to have you in Rome. I've never forgotten your singing. Your voice is still ringing in my ears."

I answered, "I have never forgotten your Majesty's kindness to me when I was here before."

"I remember so well," she said, "how beautifully you and the Marquise Villamarina sang that duet from 'La Pavorita.' We shall have some music later, I hope," and she added, "The King was delighted with Monsieur de Hegermann."

I said that Monsieur de Hegermann was very much flattered by the King's gracious manner when the King received him.

On leaving me the Queen crossed the room, directing her steps toward the _doyen_ Amba.s.sador. In the mean while the King came toward the ladies, pa.s.sing rapidly from one to the other. He made quick work of us, as he did most of the talking himself, hardly ever waiting for an answer.

He said to me, "The Queen tells me that you have been here before."

"I have, your Majesty," I answered; "I was here five years ago and had the honor to be presented to you."

"Really?" said the King. "I don't remember."

"But I've known you longer even than that," I said.

"How so?" asked the King, abruptly.

"When your Majesty was in Paris in 1867."

"That makes us very old friends," he said, smilingly.

Finally, when their Majesties had finished the circle, they met at the end of the ball-room; every one made a _grande reverence_, and they bowed graciously in response and withdrew.

We ladies, in walking out, allowed our _manteaux_ to trail behind us.

We entered the room where refreshments were served, and crowded around the buffet, which groaned under the weight of all sorts of good things.

We drank one another's health and Happy New Year in champagne.

_January, 1881._

Dear Mother,--You would never believe that my official duties weigh as heavily on me as they do. I received a letter from the Marquise Villamarina, saying that "her Gracious Sovereign would be pleased to receive me on the seventh at three o'clock." Therefore, dressed in my best, I drove to the Quirinal. It is so near our palace that I had hardly entered the carriage before I had to get out of it. The gorgeously dressed and long-bearded _concierge_ who stood pompously at the entrance of the palace waved the carriage to the other end of the courtyard, and pounded his mace on the pavement in an authoritative manner.

I mounted the broad, winding staircase, went through the long gallery lined with lackeys, and reached the _salon_, where the Marquise Villamarina was waiting to receive me. After the usual greetings she said, "_Sa Majeste vous attend_," and led me through many _salons_ to the one where the Queen was. I noticed, as we walked along, that the Marquise removed her right-hand glove, I took this as a hint that I should do the same. The Queen was standing when I entered the room. I made a deep courtesy before going in. She came forward and gave me her ungloved hand, over which I bowed deeply. The Marquise retired, leaving me alone with the Queen, who motioned me to sit beside her on the sofa.

She spoke French, and so rapidly that I could hardly follow her. She was kindness itself, as affable and charming as one could possibly be, and put me at my ease immediately.

She had a little diamond ball hanging on a chain in the folds of her dress, the prettiest little watch I ever saw. After a half-hour, which pa.s.sed like a flash, the Marquise reappeared in the doorway. This was a signal for me to take my leave. The Queen rose, gave me her hand, and said, "Good-by, Madame de Hegermann; I'm so glad to have you here in Rome."

I should have liked to kiss her hand, but I was told that the wife of a foreign minister never kisses the hand of any queen save her own.

I feel now that I am really launched. Let us hope that my barque will ride the waves successfully! In Europe visits are not as with us in America. Here the residents wait until the stranger makes the first visit; in America it is just the contrary. I must say I like the European way best. It would be very awkward for _me_ to receive visitors now, especially when my household is in its present chaotic state. I hope it will be only a question of cards for some time yet.

_January 20, 1881._

Dear Mother,--Last night the Princess Palavicini gave what she intended to be the finest ball of the season, for which no expense was spared.

They had sent to Paris for the cotillon favors, to Nice for flowers to decorate the magnificent _salons_ of the Palazzo Rospigliosi, and to Naples for the famous Neapolitan orchestra.

The Princess Palavicini is one of the Queen's ladies of honor, belongs to one of the most aristocratic families in Italy, and claims to have the most select society in Rome. The King and the Queen had consented to grace the ball with their presence. That the King had promised to go was a great exception, as he has never been willing to go to any function outside of the Quirinal since the much-talked-of ball at the Duke di Fiano's. I believe that it is only his keen sense of duty that makes him attend his own entertainments.

All the guests were a.s.sembled and awaiting the arrival of their Majesties, but they did not come. The reason given was that the present members of the Ministry took exception to the fact that neither they nor their wives had been invited. The Ministers sent word to the King that if their Majesties attended the ball they would give in their resignations _en bloc_. The result was that the ball was a complete failure. All the spirit had gone out of the guests, who moved about aimlessly, talking in groups, and then quietly disappeared. The dancers of the cotillon waited for the supper, which they said was magnificent and sufficient for a hungry army.

ROME, _February 1881_.

Dear ----,--The two sons of the King of Sweden (Prince Oscar and Prince Carl) are here for a fortnight's visit, and are seeing Rome thoroughly in the company of two chamberlains, two cicerones, and some friends.

The young princes gave a dinner at the Hotel Quirinal, to which we were invited. They had engaged the Neapolitan singers from Naples, who sang the most delightful and lively songs. We felt like dancing a _saltarello_, and perhaps might have done so if we had been in less princely presences. The Scandinavian Club gave a feast--the finest and greatest in the annals of the club--in honor of the two princes, to welcome the Swedish and Norwegian Minister's bride, and also to welcome us--a great combination--and to celebrate the carnival by a fancy ball.

People were begged to come in costume, which, to be amiable, every one was delighted to do. The costumes were not original. Roman peasants were abundant. This costume needs only a towel folded square and put on the head, and a Roman ap.r.o.n, easily obtained at the Campo di Fiore for a song. Flower-girls with hats turned up on the side and baskets of flowers were also popular. The handsome Prince Carl, who is six feet six, needed only a helmet to personify to perfection a youthful G.o.d Mars. Prince Oscar merely wore his naval mess-jacket. Herr Ross (the Norwegian artist) was the head and spirit of the ball and directed everything. He was dressed appropriately as a _pierrot_, with a wand in his hand, and pirouetted about to his heart's content.

All was done on the most economical basis, as the club is entirely composed of artists, who, consequently, are poor. The lines were drawn apparently at the food, but in _skaals_ (toasts)--the thing dearest the Scandinavian heart--they were extremely liberal and reckless. All six of us were toasted to a crisp brown, and at each separate toast we stood up and listened to the tale of our virtues.

The celebrated Ibsen honored this feast with his presence, and especially honored the Chianti and Genzano wines, which were served copiously, in _fiascos_. When you see Ibsen, with his lion face and tangle of hair, for the first time, you are fascinated by him, knowing what a genius he is, but when you talk with him, and feel his piercing, critical eyes looking at you from under his bushy brows, and see his cruel, satirical smile, you are a little prejudiced against him. We meet him often at our friend Ross's studio at afternoon teas, where there is always a little music. Ibsen sits sullen, silent, and indifferent. He does not like music, and does not disguise his dislike.

This is not, as you may imagine, inspiring to the performers. In fact, just to look at him takes all the life out of you. He is a veritable wet blanket. I have read all his works in the original. I think they lose a great deal in being translated. The Norwegian language is very curt and concise, each word conveying almost the meaning of two in English, which enables the author to paint a whole situation in a few words. I can see the difference, in reading the English translations, and where they fail to convey his real meaning. Strangers who wish to see Ibsen must go to the cheap Italian restaurant, "Falcone," where he sits before a small iron table, eating deviled devil-fish. No wonder that he is morbid and his plays weird!

_February, 1881._

Dear Mother,--I know you would like to hear about the first ball at the Quirinal. It was very splendid. Since the last and famous ball at the Tuileries I had seen nothing like it. When we had mounted the guard-lined staircase and pa.s.sed through innumerable _salons_ we were received by the _Grande Maitresse_, surrounded by numerous _dames de palais_, all so beautiful that I wondered if they had been chosen for their beauty alone. I never saw so many handsome women grouped together. Numerous chamberlains preceded us into the ballroom and showed us the benches where the _Corps Diplomatique_ have their places.

The benches looked inviting enough, with their red-velvet coverings and their gilded legs, but I did not feel as if I should care to sit on them for hours.

Madame Minghetti sat on one of the _taborets_ on one side of the throne, and Madame Cairoli (wife of the Minister of Foreign Affairs) occupied the _taboret_ on the other side. These two ladies are the only ones who have the right to sit on the little square stools that are called _taborets_.

We waited in our places until we heard the orchestra start the national hymn, then every one stood up as the King and the Queen entered arm in arm, followed by splendidly dressed and bejeweled _dames d'honneur_ and the numerous suite. Their Majesties went to the throne, stood there a moment, then stepped down and spoke to the two ladies on the _taborets_. The _quadrille d'honneur_ commenced almost immediately.

Count Wimphen approached the Queen, making the deepest of bows, offered her his hand, and led her to her place on the floor. M. de Keudell and the Countess Wimphen took their places opposite the Queen. There were only two other couples. Every one stood while this quadrille was being danced.

The Queen looked exquisite, and seemed to be in the best of spirits.

She was the _point de mire_ of all eyes. She wore a superb gown of light-blue brocade, the front entirely trimmed with old Venetian lace.

Her necklace and tiara were of enormous pearls and diamonds. She was truly a vision of beauty and queenly grace.

After the _quadrille d'honneur_ the dancing became general. The Queen first talked to the Amba.s.sadresses, then to the wives of the Ministers, sitting down on the bench beside the lady she desired to converse with, the one on the other side moving on discreetly to make more room for the Queen.

The King never came anywhere near the ladies, but talked only with the gentlemen, frequently keeping one by his side and addressing him while he talked with another.

The dancing continued until the Queen had returned from a tour of the other _salons_, where she had been talking with those a.s.sembled there.

Re-entering the ballroom, preceded as always by her chamberlains and followed by her ladies, she joined the King, and both, bowing graciously as if to say good night, retired.

[Ill.u.s.tration: QUEEN MARGHERITA Mother of the present King of Italy as she appeared in 1886. The tiara was a present from the King on the preceding Christmas. In the necklace are some of the crown jewels, pearls and six remarkable emeralds.]

ROME, _February, 1881_.

Dear ----,--Mrs. Elliot brought Ouida to see me on my reception-day.

Ouida is, I am afraid, a little bit of a _poseuse_, but geniuses have privileges which cannot be endured in ordinary people. She was dressed with a lofty disregard of Roman climate and its possibilities, and in utter defiance of common sense. She wore a dress open at the throat, with short sleeves, and the thinnest of shoes and stockings, which she managed to show more than was quite necessary. She spoke in an affected voice, and looked about her continually as if people were watching her and taking notes.

Among the ladies of the Queen here are three Americans who have married Italians and have entered the charmed circle of the court. Their services are only required upon certain gala occasions. One is the daughter of Hickson Fields (whom we used to know so well in Paris), who has married Prince Brancaccio. Another American lady, the wife of Prince Cenci, who is of the same family as the lady with the turban.

Both the Prince and the Princess are at court, he as chamberlain and she as _dame de palais_. He is called the "_Boeuf a la mode_," not because he in any way looks like a _boeuf_, but because he is fine-looking, masterful, and _a la mode_.