We took our leave. In stooping to kiss her Royal Highness's hand her cap caught in an ornament I had on my bonnet, and there we stood tied together. Johan tried in vain to undo us, but was obliged to call in the lady-in-waiting, who finally disentangled us.
DENMARK, January, 1878.
Dear Mother,—The Queen of Denmark is an adorable and lovely queen. I am happy to call her my Queen.
A few days after my audience we were invited to a dinner at Amalienborg. We met in the salon, before their Majesties came in. When they had made a little cercle and said a word to every one, dinner was announced. The King gave one arm to the Queen and the other to the Princess Anne of Hesse—the Queen's sister-in-law. The King and the Queen sat next to each other. There were about forty people at table. Admiral Bille took me in; he talked English perfectly, and was—like all naval officers!—very charming.
The Queen said to me: "I should so like to hear you sing. Will you come to-morrow? I will send my carriage for you, and please don't forget to bring some music."
As if I should forget! I was only too delighted.
The next morning the Queen sent her own coupé for me at eleven o'clock. I felt very grand; all the people in the street bowed and courtesied, thinking I was one of the royal family. I let down the glasses on both sides of the coupé so that every one could have a chance to bow.
I was at once ushered into the Queen's salon by an old red-liveried majordomo who had many decorations on his breast. The Queen was alone with the Grande Maîtresse, and after having talked a little she said, "Now we'll have some music," and led the way into the ballroom, where there were two pianos. The Queen sat on the sofa, wearing an expression that was half pre-indulgent and half expectant. The Grande Maîtresse, who was there, not in her official character, but as a musician, accompanied me when I sang "Voi che sapete." When I came to the phrase, "Non trovo pace notte ne di," the Queen raised her hand to her eyes, which were filled with tears, and after I had finished, said, "Please sing another."
I spread out the music of "Biondina" in front of the eye-glasses of the Grande Maîtresse, but the first bars convinced me that if I were to sing that song, she was not to play it, and, against all etiquette, I placed my hands over hers and gently pushed her off the seat, saying, "May I?"
I confess I deserved the daggers she looked at me, but the Queen only laughed and said, "You are quite right; you must play that for yourself."