“Monsieur Robert-Houdin,” the officer replied, politely, but with all the coolness of a Briton, “such are her Majesty’s orders, and I can say no more.” And without awaiting any explanation, he bowed to me and retired.
“We shall still have time to take a hasty snack,” I said to my secretary, “so off to the dining-room as quickly as you please.”
I had not finished the sentence, when the Queen, Prince Albert and the royal family entered the gallery, followed by a numerous suit.
At this sight I had not the courage to go further; I returned, and armed myself with resignation. Protected by the curtain that concealed me from the spectators, I hastily made my few remaining preparations, and five minutes later I received the order to begin.
When the curtain rose, I was dazzled at the sight that met my gaze.
Her Majesty, the Prince Consort, the Queen Dowager, the Duke of Cambridge and the royal children occupied the first rank. Behind them were a portion of the Orleans family; while in the rear sat the highest functionaries, among whom I recognized ambassadors dressed in their national costumes, and general officers covered with brilliant decorations. All the ladies were in ball toilette, and richly adorned with jewels.
A wonderful change came over me when I began my performance: all my languor had been suddenly dispelled, and I felt in excellent spirits.
Still this change can be easily explained. It is well known that a performer feels no suffering while on the stage; a species of exaltation suspends all feelings foreign to his part, and hunger, thirst, cold, or heat, even illness itself, is forced to retreat in the presence of this excitement, though it takes its revenge afterwards.
This slight digression was necessary to explain the spirits I felt in when I appeared before my noble audience.
Never, I believe, did I throw such dash and boldness into the performance of my experiments; never, either, had I an audience which appreciated them so kindly.