few days of rest before the first of
January, as I am completely tired out.

_January, 1881._

Dear Mother,--The great event of the season has just taken place! The
_Corps Diplomatique_ has been received by their Majesties at the
Quirinal, and I have made my first official appearance and worn my
first court train. This splendid ceremony took place at two o'clock in
the afternoon, a rather trying time to be _decolletee_ and look your
best. In my letter from Paris I told you about my dress made by Worth.
It really is quite lovely--white brocade, with the tulle front--all
embroidered with iridescent beads and pearls. The _manteau de cour_ is
of white satin, trimmed with Valenciennes lace and ruches of chiffon. I
wore my diamond tiara, my pearls on my neck, and everything I owned in
the way of jewelry pinned on me somewhere.

Johan was in full gala uniform--the red one--on the back of which was
the chamberlain's key on the blue ribbon.

On arriving at the Quirinal we drove through the _porte-cochere_ and
stopped at the grand staircase, which was lined all the way up by the
tall and handsome guards, dressed in their brilliant uniforms.

We were received in the _salon_ adjoining the throne-room by the
Marquise Villamarina and the _Prefet du Palais_. In crossing this
_salon_ one lets one's train drag on the floor and proceeds,
peacock-like, toward the ballroom. It seems that this is the proper
thing to do, as it is expected of you to allow all beholders to admire
your train and to verify its length. It must be four and a half yards
long. I was told that the train of one of the diplomatic ladies last
year was not long enough, and she was officially reproached. She
excused herself by saying that she thought it would go "_that once_,"
but she found that it didn't go, and it was considered very
disrespectful of her to disregard the court's regulations.

On entering the ballroom you pick up your train and go to your
place--for every lady has her place according to her _anciennete_. I,
being the wife of the newest Minister, was naturally at the very end,
and next to me was the newest Minister himself. While waiting for their
Majesties you let your train fall, and it lies in a heap at your left
side.

Behind each lady was a red-velvet _fauteuil_, in which she could rest
for a moment, if her colleagues would screen her from public view by
"closing up," according to military language. We did not, fortunately,
have long to w