other day, in one short walk, I ran across three Empresses, two
Queens, and an Heir-apparent, and then fled to my hotel, fearing to be
unfitted for America, if I went on "keeping such company." They are
knowing enough, these wandering great ones, and after trying many places
have hit on this charming coast as offering more than any other for their
comfort and enjoyment. The vogue of these sunny shores dates from their
annexation to France,--a price Victor Emmanuel reluctantly paid for
French help in his war with Austria. Napoleon III.'s demand for Savoy
and this littoral, was first made known to Victor Emmanuel at a state
ball at Genoa. Savoy was his birthplace and his home! The King broke
into a wild temper, cursing the French Emperor and making insulting
allusions to his parentage, saying he had not one drop of Bonaparte blood
in his veins. The King's frightened courtiers tried to stop this
outburst, showing him the French Ambassador at his elbow. With a
superhuman effort Victor Emmanuel controlled himself, and turning to the
Ambassador, said:

"I fear my tongue ran away with me!" With a smile and a bow the great
French diplomatist remarked:

"_Sire_, I am so deaf I have not heard a word your Majesty has been
saying!"

The fashion of coming to the Riviera for health or for amusement, dates
from the sixties, when the Empress of Russia passed a winter at Nice, as
a last attempt to prolong the existence of the dying Tsarewitsch, her
son. There also the next season the Duke of Edinburgh wooed and won her
daughter (then the greatest heiress in Europe) for his bride. The world
moves fast and a journey it required a matter of life and death to decide
on, then, is gayly undertaken now, that a prince may race a yacht, or a
princess try her luck at the gambling tables. When one reflects that the
"royal caste," in Europe alone, numbers some eight hundred people, and
that the East is beginning to send out its more enterprising crowned
heads to get a taste of the fun, that beyond drawing their salaries,
these good people have absolutely nothing to do, except to amuse
themselves, it is no wonder that this happy land is crowded with royal
pleasure-seekers.

After a try at Florence and Aix, "the Queen" has been faithful to Cimiez,
a charming site back of Nice. That gay city is always _en fete_ the day
she arrives, as her carriages pass surrounded by French cavalry, one can
catch a glimpse of her big face, and dowdy l