At Berne he saw a unique Swiss sword. Swords were looked for at every place, so we went straight to an antiquarian, who showed us some iron blades, metal scabbards, and arabesque spear-heads. Monsieur de Montêt's brother, Emanuel, a banker, called and showed us the lions. We were now reading the "Service of Man" by James Carter Morison.
It was now that we returned, 1st of March, 1889, to Lucerne, which was another "Snow Hell." We went to the Hôtel Nationale, the only place open, had lovely rooms and good fires, but the rest of it deserved all Richard said of it a while ago.
On the 4th we rose early, quite well, and made all ready to go, and having an hour to wait, sat down to enjoy the fire, when all of a sudden I got an aching in every bone, a bad rash came out, and faint, cold down the spine, hot and cold, nausea; could do nothing but rock and groan, and groaned and rocked the whole eight hours to Milan. I did not know it then, but I know it now, by three subsequent experiences, that I had a sharp attack of influenza, but we did not talk so much about this epidemic in 1889. It was a great mortification that I had to be several days in bed, as one of my cousins and some others were waiting to do a very nice expedition, which I should have thoroughly enjoyed, and had to let them go without me. There was one fortunate thing, that when I was ill, Richard was well; and if he was down, I was always perfectly well and able.
On the 10th we went down to Venice, to the Hôtel Victoria, where we were put in big, damp, dark rooms like catacombs; and on the 12th arrived at Trieste, where I was very weak for a long time.
On the 30th we accompanied Prince and Princess Victor Von Hohenlöhe and daughter to the Ungaria for Corfú.
On the 22nd of March, he regrets the death of Lady Arnold, on March the 15th—"grieved for the poet's sake;" and also Miss Whately, of Egypt, whom we knew.
We now had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Jokai, the Hungarian novelist, who came to Miramar to consult the Archduchess Stephanie about Prince Rudolf's work, which was to come out in fifteen volumes for the people.
On the 13th of April I wrote a petition for the children of the Orphanage of St. Joseph (the one that Richard and I were interested in), and we put down our names for a hundred florins, and promised them a life-sized statue of their patron saint.
We had, as usual, our servants' party, which they keep very much as they would in England, only they are very witty when drinking toasts in improvising verses on names.