epare a savory dinner for a group of
Liliputians; there was a library, and a cabinet of Chinese objects,
bird-cages full of birds, prayer-books, carpets, linen for a whole
family trimmed with lace and fine embroidery: there were lacking only
a married couple, a lady's maid, and a cook rather smaller than
ordinary marionettes. But there was one drawback: the house cost a
hundred and twenty thousand francs, and the Czar, who as all know, was
an economical man, refused it, and Brandt, to shame the imperial
avarice, presented it to the Museum of the Hague.

In the streets of the Hague, from the first day, I had met women
dressed in such a peculiar manner that I had followed them to observe
every particular of their costume. At first sight I thought that they
must belong to some religious order or that they were hermits,
pilgrims, or women of some nomadic tribes which were passing through
Holland. They wore immense straw hats lined with flowered calico,
short chocolate-colored monk's cloaks made of serge and lined with red
cloth; their petticoats were also of serge, short and puffed out as
though they wore crinolines; they wore black stockings and white
wooden shoes. In the morning they might be seen going to market
bearing on their heads baskets full of fish or driving carts drawn by
dogs. They usually went alone or in pairs, without any men. They
walked in a peculiar manner, taking long strides, with a certain air
of despondency, like those who are accustomed to walking on the sand;
there was a sadness in their expression and appearance which
harmonized with the monastic austerity of their attire.

I asked a Dutchman who they were, and the only answer he gave me was,
"Go to Scheveningen."

Scheveningen is a village two miles from the Hague, and connected with
it by a straight road bordered along its whole length by several rows
of beautiful elms, which form a perfect shade. On either side of the
road, beyond the elms, there are small villas, pavilions, and cottages
with roofs that look like the kiosks of the gardens, and with facades
of a thousand fantastic shapes, all bearing the usual inscriptions
inviting to repose and pleasure. This road is the favorite promenade
of the citizens of the Hague on Sunday evenings, but on the other days
of the week it is almost always deserted. One meets only a few women
from Scheveningen, and now and then a carriage or the coaches that
come and go between the town and the village. As o