t be too long?"

"Well, then, you may expect me."

How prepare for _les details_? Madame de Sevigny writes somewhere,
"_que les details sont aussi chers a ceux que nous aimons, qu'ils sont
ennuyeux aux autres_."

The servants laid the traditional red carpet on the staircase. Palms
and plants were put in every possible place.

At two o'clock the servants were already on the watch. The
_porte-cochere_ was wide open and the _concierge_ all in a flutter. The
piano-tuner, who had just spent an hour tuning my Bechstein, had
departed when a cart drew up in front of the door. What do you think it
was? Nothing less than the King's own piano, an _upright_ one, though
it did connive at _deception_, as you will see. It was one of those
pianos with which one could, by turning a key, lower the whole keyboard
by half-tones, so that a barytone could masquerade as a tenor and spare
the pianist the trouble of transposing the music, and no one would be
the wiser.

This was emotion No. 1.

Emotion No. 2: a carriage which stood before the door brought Mr.
Halstrum, the pianist.

Emotion No. 3 was another carriage full of things--a music-stand, a
quantity of music-books, his Majesty's spectacles, and a mysterious
basket.

Emotion No. 4: the servants, with all their heads out of the window,
spied a carriage coming full tilt up the street. In it was M. Odman,
the best tenor from the Opera.

Finally the royal equipage, of which there could be no doubt this time,
was seen from way down the street. J. descended the stairs to receive
his Majesty as his carriage entered the _porte-cochere_. I stood at the
door of the apartment, and the King in his usual friendly manner said a
hearty, "_God dag, god dag, Fru Hegermann_!"

He was attended by only one chamberlain. We went into the _salon_.
After a little while the King said, "What shall I sing for you?" and
handed me a list of songs.

"Anything your Majesty sings will be delightful," I answered, eagerly.

"Yes, but you must choose," the King said.

I chose one I wanted to hear, but the King had already decided
beforehand what he wanted to sing. (I might have spared myself the
trouble.) He went toward the piano, but before he sang he took out of
the mysterious basket an egg, which he broke and swallowed raw, to
clear his voice. He began at the first song on the list, "Adeleide"
(Beethoven), and sang that and one after another of those on the list.
It seemed queer to have the _roles_ r