At half-past two the Queen had not yet arrived, and there was a hesitation about waiting any longer, when frenzied hurrahs, rending the air for the length of a mile, announced her Majesty’s speedy arrival.
The church-bells immediately began ringing, the band struck up “God save the Queen,” while the youngest and fairest ladies formed a double avenue along her Majesty’s route.
These preparations were scarce made ere the Queen left her carriage, and moving along an immense avenue, covered with red cloth, and sheltered overhead by a gay awning, she walked towards the room where her arrival was only awaited to commence the concert.
On reaching the room, the Queen took her place in the midst of a circle formed by the lady patronesses, and the concert began.
I should have gladly listened to the dulcet sounds, but, unfortunately, the hall, in spite of its vast proportions, could not contain all the spectators, and the crush was so great that it was not only crowded, but the approaches were invaded to the point where the vibration of the voices finally died away.
Hence, I was obliged to content myself with hearing outside the repeated applause bestowed on the talented singers. Roger, especially, obtained a real triumph by his aria from Lucia di Lammermoor, and the exquisite way in which he sings it is well known. The Queen herself commanded an encore.
The concert was scarcely over when, in accordance with the programme, the Queen proceeded to see the quadrilles, in which magnificently attired ladies were to take part.
I should have gladly witnessed this graceful sight, but I thought it advisable to cast a final glance on my stage.
Hence, I proceeded towards the theatre, where a private entrance had been prepared for me, and I was just going up the few steps leading to it, when some one seized my arm.
“Ah! Monsieur Robert-Houdin,” a gentleman said to me, with a smile, as he prepared to follow me up the stairs, “that is capital—we will go in together.”