Now comes a curious point. As we left the house Madame Brügel in expressing disappointment about the next evening, added: "And yet somehow I think you will go after all."
"Yes," I said involuntarily. "I believe I shall go, but I cannot think how it will come about; nothing could be more decided than what we have just heard, and I cannot possibly put off my journey to England the end of this week."
I think we were both a little disappointed when no letter arrived by the morning's post. "Local letters often come by second post," urged my friend, who was very keen upon her presentiment.
A long morning at the Louvre prevented my reaching home till one p.m., when the déjeuner à la fourchette was half way through its course. No letter on my plate! So Madame Brügel and I agreed that the wish must have been father to the thought with both of us, and put the matter out of our heads once for all.
At two-thirty p.m., however, a dépêche letter arrived for me.
Lady Caithness wrote to beg that I would make a point of being with her that evening by nine p.m. "You will think this very inconsistent with what I told you yesterday," she wrote, "but I said only what was the exact truth, as matters then stood. It is the Queen herself who has communicated with me this morning, and insists upon your being present this evening. The Abbé and I can only bow to this decision. I need not tell you how pleased I shall be personally to greet you this evening."
I was again shown into the spacious bedroom of the Countess, where she "received" in general, quite after the manner of the French kings in the days of the old monarchy.
Her bed was quite a State bed too, with its beautiful silk furnishings and heavy velvet hangings. On the wall behind this, was a very valuable fresco painting, representing Jacob's ladder, with the angels ascending and descending, executed by a famous modern artist.
We soon descended to the ground floor, and passing through the large lecture-room, of which Lady Caithness had spoken, and which had sufficient gilt and cane chairs to seat a large audience; we stepped down some marble stairs into a small but exquisitely appointed room. It was a sort of chapel, in fact, built "by the Queen's instructions," and used for all purposes and occasions of direct communication with her. A general impression remains with me of rare woods and exquisite marbles, and the walls were hung with framed tapestries representing various scenes in the Queen's life.
To me the most striking and beautiful thing in the room was a full-length, life-sized portrait of Mary herself, so arranged that a hidden lamp threw its soft light on the features; whilst the hanging velvet curtains of deep crimson on either side concealed the frame of the picture, and conveyed the illusion that a living woman was standing there ready to receive her guests.