she must seek other
lodgings--he needed her quarters. At this point she always wept, and I
sympathized.

Thus I came to know military life in Germany, and I fell in love with
the army, with its brilliancy and its glitter, with its struggles
and its romance, with its sharp contrasts, its deprivations, and its
chivalry.

I came to know, as their guest, the best of old military society. They
were very old-fashioned and precise, and Frau Generalin often told me
that American girls were too ausgelassen in their manners. She often
reproved me for seating myself upon the sofa (which was only for old
people) and also for looking about too much when walking on the streets.
Young girls must keep their eyes more cast down, looking up only
occasionally. (I thought this dreadfully prim, as I was eager to see
everything). I was expected to stop and drop a little courtesy on
meeting an older woman, and then to inquire after the health of each
member of the family. It seemed to take a lot of time, but all the other
girls did it, and there seemed to be no hurry about anything, ever,
in that elegant old Residenz-stadt. Surely a contrast to our bustling
American towns.

A sentiment seemed to underlie everything they did. The Emperor meant
so much to them, and they adored the Empress. A personal feeling, an
affection, such as I had never heard of in a republic, caused me to stop
and wonder if an empire were not the best, after all. And one day,
when the Emperor, passing through Hanover en route, drove down the
Georgen-strasse in an open barouche and raised his hat as he glanced at
the sidewalk where I happened to be standing, my heart seemed to stop
beating, and I was overcome by a most wonderful feeling--a feeling that
in a man would have meant chivalry and loyalty unto death.

In this beautiful old city, life could not be taken any other than
leisurely. Theatres with early hours, the maid coming for me with a
lantern at nine o'clock, the frequent Kaffee-klatsch, the delightful
afternoon coffee at the Georgen-garten, the visits to the Zoological
gardens, where we always took our fresh rolls along with our
knitting-work in a basket, and then sat at a little table in the open,
and were served with coffee, sweet cream, and butter, by a strapping
Hessian peasant woman--all so simple, yet so elegant, so peaceful.

We heard the best music at the theatre, which was managed with the same
precision, and maintained by the Government with the