billet doux_. Sometimes they were very flattering. Here is one,
written in the big boyish hand of a Prince of the Blood:--

My beautiful, there is no one like you. They want me to marry the
daughter of a royal house, but if you will say "Yes" I will defy
them. We will be married by the Archbishop, who marries and buries
so beautifully; but I shall never need burying, because those who
marry you never die.

Poor boy, I had to send him a negative by the fifteenth groom in the
third phaeton, drawn by a pair of dashing chestnuts which another of
my unsuccessful adorers had given me. I noticed that when they got
back to Grosvenor Square the chestnuts had turned to greys.

=The Sage of Chelsea.=

THOMAS CARLYLE loved to have me trotting in and out of his house in
Cheyne Row, and we had endless talks on the desirability of silence.
"Yon wee Meg," he used to say, for he refused to call me "Margot,"
declaring it was a Frenchified name--"yon wee Meg is the cleverest
girl in Scotland--and the wittiest."

I remember once that RUSKIN was there too, and we had a little breeze.

RUSKIN (_patronisingly_). What do you think of the paintings of
TURNER?

MARGOT. He bores me.

RUSKIN (_drawing in a long breath_). Bores you?

MARGOT (_with a slow smile_). He probably bores you too, only you
daren't admit it.

What would have happened I cannot imagine had not dear old CARLYLE
offered me a draw of his pipe, while remarking laughingly, "She's a
wonder, is Meg; she'll lead the world yet."

One day he asked me what I thought of his writing.

MARGOT. Too jerky and overcharged.

CARLYLE (_wincing_). I must try to improve. What is your theory of
authorship?

MARGOT. I think one should assume that everything that happens to
oneself must be interesting to others.

CARLYLE (_as though staggered by a new idea_). Why?

MARGOT (_simply_). Because oneself is so precious, so unique.

I asked him once what he really thought of Mrs. CARLYLE, but he
changed the subject.

=Bismarck.=

It was in Berlin, when I was seventeen, that I met BISMARCK. It was at
the Opera, where, being a young English girl, I was in the habit of
going alone. The great Chancellor, who was all unconscious that I had
penetrated his identity, watched me for a long while between the Acts
and then overtook me on my way home and in French asked me to supper.

MARGOT (_also in French_). But I am not hungry.

BISMARCK. In Germany you should d