als which friends and even acquaintances were
kind enough to make. As at this period Bonaparte, who had proclaimed
himself Emperor, prohibited all English people in France, after the
rupture of the Peace of Amiens, from leaving, Lady Herne, well known
for her artistic proclivities, said that I ought to be kept back as a
hostage.

At the moment I was to get into the post-chaise that was to convey me
to the inn near my place of embarkation, the charming Mme. Grassini
appeared on the scene. I thought she had simply come to bid me
farewell, but she declared she wished to take me to the inn, and made
me get into her carriage, which I found full of pillows and packages.
"What is all this for?" I inquired. "You are not aware, then," she
replied, "that you are going to the worst inn of the world? You may
have to wait there a week or more if the wind is not favourable, and I
have made up my mind to stay with you." I can hardly say how moved I
was at this token of affection. The beautiful woman was leaving the
pleasures of London and her friends, to say nothing of the host of
admirers always in her train, merely to keep me company. To me this
seemed lovable, and I have never forgotten it.

It was a great joy to me to see my friends once more, and especially
my daughter. Her husband, whom she had accompanied to France, was
charged by Prince Narischkin with the mission of engaging musical
artists for St. Petersburg. He left a few months later, but alone--for
love, alas! had long since vanished--and my daughter remained, to my
great satisfaction. To her misfortune and mine, my child had a very
quick temper; besides, I had not been able to instil into her
completely my own distaste for bad company. Add to this that--whether
through my own fault or not--her power over my mind was great, and I
had none over hers, and it will be understood how she sometimes made
me shed bitter tears. Still, she was my daughter. Her beauty, her
gifts, her cleverness rendered her as fascinating as possible, and,
though I mourned because I could not persuade her to come to live with
me, since she persisted in seeing certain people I would not receive,
I at any rate saw her every day, and that in itself was a great
blessing.

One evening I arranged some living pictures of a kind which had won
warm approval in St. Petersburg, and, being careful to place behind
the gauze none but handsome men and pretty women, the result was
charming. Another day I painte