The baby of our luncheon party was Christopher, now the husband of Mrs. Leeds. The poor little Princess whose doom we feared had a more merciful one than many of her relations. She married the Grand Duke Paul later in 1889 and died in 1891 after the birth of her second child. Taken indeed from the evil to come. Her children were adopted by the Grand Duchess Serge, who I believe has been murdered in the late Terror—but I do not know what has happened to the children.
ORIGINAL DERIVATIONS
To turn to something more cheerful. A delightful woman, a real Mrs. Malaprop, had lately been at Athens and much enlivened the British Legation both by her remarks and her credulity. With her the Parthenon was the “Parthian,” the Odeum (an ancient theatre) the “Odium,” Tanagra became “Tangiers,” and so on. She told Mr. Haggard that she did not like the “Parthian,” it was too big. “Oh,” he said, “you ought to like it, for you have heard of the Parthian shafts—those” (pointing to the columns) “are the original Parthian shafts.” “How very interesting!” said she. He then proceeded to inform her that the Odeum was used for music (which was true), but added that the music was so bad that they all hated it, and therefore the place was called the “Odium”—also “very interesting.” She was taken for an excursion in Thessaly, where there were sheep-pens on the mountains, and one happened to be fenced in a shape something like an irregular figure 8. Another lady pointed this out and gravely informed her that that was how the Pelasgians numbered their mountains. “Oh, Charles,” shouted the victim to her husband, “do look—the Pelasgians numbered their hills—one, two, three—there is number eight!”
CHAPTER X
WINDSOR—EGYPT AND SYRIA
After our return to London in the spring I was greatly surprised when on meeting Sir Henry Ponsonby one day at a party he desired me to send my article on India to the Queen. He was at that time her Private Secretary and knew her deep interest in all things concerning India, but I never imagined that anything which I had written was sufficiently important to be worth her notice. However, I could but do as I was ordered, and I was still more surprised a little later at the result, which was a command that Jersey and I should dine and sleep at Windsor. Jersey had been there before, but it was novel to me and very interesting.
We were taken on arrival to a very nice set of rooms overlooking the Long Walk, up which we presently saw the Queen returning from her afternoon drive. An excellent tea was brought us and Lord Edward Clinton came to look after us—also another member of the Household, I forget who it was, but I recollect that an animated discussion took place in our sitting-room as to an omission on the part of somebody to send to meet the Speaker (Arthur Peel) at the station! It is always rather a comfort to ordinary mortals to find that even in the most exalted establishments mistakes do sometimes occur. We were told that dinner would be at a nominal 8.30, and that a page would take us down when we were ready. Of course we were dressed in excellent time, but just as I had finished my toilet Jersey came into my room in great agitation. He was expected to wear what we called “the funny trousers”—not knee-breeches, but trousers fastened just below the calf of the leg and showing the socks. Unfortunately his black silk socks were marked in white, and he said I must pick out the marking—which was impossible all in a minute, and the rooms somewhat dimly lit. However, my maid suggested inking over the marks, to my immense relief—and all was well.
DINNER AT WINDSOR