a's sake, that she could rest after her fatiguing
day. I knew that she was suffering agonies from her tightly bandaged
wrist. Her arm was in a plaster cast, and she carried it in a sling
cleverly hidden under her laces. The next day the Empress took the
Queen with her to visit some charitable institutions. The King and the
Queen had graciously promised to lunch at our house, which was
surrounded by a cordon of police, on foot and on horseback, in front
and in the courtyard belonging to the Legation.

At two o'clock quite a procession of court carriages entered our
_porte-cochere_, where I met the Queen, presenting her with a bouquet
tied with ribbons of the Danish colors--red and white. Our lunch was
for forty people, and was served in two rooms. The King gave me his
arm. The Emperor had sent in the morning a life-sized crayon portrait
of himself by Lenbach as a present. The whole staircase was lined with
palms and bushes, and of course there were plenty of flowers in the
rooms.

After luncheon a deputation of the Danish colony met in the large
_salons_ and were presented to their Majesties. It was after five
o'clock before every one had departed. The policemen had filed off,
and the crowds which had collected in the street disappeared.

The gala opera in the evening was like all the other gala operas I
have described. At eight o'clock every one had assembled and was in
his place. The opera was called "_Der Lange Kerl_," written at the
Emperor's command by some German composer. It was a beautiful
production, and represented Frederick the Great at Sans-Souci. In the
first act the interior of Sans-Souci was copied after the famous
picture of Mezzler where Frederick the Great is playing on the flute.
The "Long Fellow" was a giant, who, it seems, was a common soldier in
the King's regiment. Madame Destinn took the part of a peasant woman,
and washed up the pavement and prepared her vegetables for sale in the
most realistic manner. The second scene, when Potsdam wakes up in the
morning, reminded me of the opening of the second act of "Lohengrin."
The last act was very sad, and rather lugubrious, representing
Frederick the Great seated in the garden in front of Sans-Souci. There
was no singing in this act at all, only pantomime. The respectful
manner and the sad faces of the lackeys as they helped the poor old
King to his chair and covered his knees with rugs, leaving him alone,
was very pathetic.

We went into the foyer