ite light of day. She is exceedingly gracious
toward me, but we cannot help feeling that we do not harmonize.

"I know not why it is, but I have of late frequently thought of a
saying of my father's: 'Whenever you find yourself on friendly or
affectionate terms with any one, imagine how he would seem if he had
become your enemy!'

"The thought follows me like a phantom, I know not why. It must be my
evil spirit.

"All here regard me as wonderfully naive, simply because I have the
courage to think for myself. I have not inherited the spectacles and
tight-lacing of tradition. The world seems to follow the fashion, even
in clothing the inside of their heads.

"I admire the first lady of the bedchamber most of all. She is the law
incarnate, carefully covered with _poudre de riz_. The ladies here
ridicule her, but I have only pity for those who are obliged to resort
to the use of cosmetics. Ah, you can have no idea, my dear Emma, how
stupid and bored some persons are when unable to indulge in scandal.
There are but few who know how to enjoy themselves innocently. But I am
forgetting that I intended to tell you about Countess Brinkenstein.

"She read me a lecture on etiquette. What a pity that I cannot give it
you, word for word. She said many pretty things; for instance,--that we
have as little right to doubt in matters of etiquette as in religion,
that, in either case, reasoning always led to heresy and schism, and
that one ought to feel happy to have the law ready made, instead of
being obliged to frame it.

"Countess Brinkenstein, like Socrates the peripatetic, teaches by
example. In the park of the summer palace there is a jutting rock, from
the top of which a fine view can be obtained. It is protected on all
sides by an iron rail. 'Do you observe, my dear countess,' said this
high priest of etiquette to me--for she seems to have conceived quite
an affection for your humble servant--'it is because we know there is a
railing, that we feel perfectly safe here. If it were not for that, we
should become too dizzy to remain. It is just the same with the laws of
court etiquette; remove the railing and there will be some one falling
every day.'

"The king enjoys conversing with Brinkenstein and, although decorous
and dignified demeanor best pleases him, he is not averse to
unconstrained cheerfulness. The queen is too serious; she is always
grand organ. But one cannot dance to organ music, and as we are still
young, we