le Samedi, 9 Mai, 2 à 4 heures,
Mlle. de Bury lira une étude de critique littéraire sur Racine, son milieu, et sa tragédie de Bérénice.
Do you think it would have tempted you? I am afraid Schuyler wouldn't have come.
To H. L. K.
London,
May, 1885.
We are having most beautiful weather, Dear, and our morning rides are delightful. If only the Park was a little bigger. We always get a good gallop on the other side by the Marble Arch, but it is small, and one goes round and round. When I ride with W. we generally make three or four turns as fast as we can go, he hates to dawdle. When I ride with the military attaché, or some other friends, we do the Row, and amble up and down, talking to the people walking as well as the riders. The children always delight in scampering along on their ponies, and they certainly begin young. A friend of ours, who has a nice sturdy boy of about six, was wondering whether he should begin with his child on a narrow pony, thinking he was still rather young, so he consulted Lady P., a beautiful rider, and an authority on all matters connected with riding. "You mustn't begin too early with boys," she said; "one must be careful; I never put any boy of mine on a horse until he was two years old."
May 13th.
To-day we have had a very long Drawing-room held by the Queen, which of course attracts everyone. She rarely stays more than an hour, just long enough to receive the Corps Diplomatique and the people who have the entrée. The Queen looked very well, merely shook hands with me, but talked some little time to W., said she had enjoyed her stay at Aix-les-Bains so much, and that everything had been done to make her comfortable. I watched her while she was talking and I never saw a smile make such a difference in a face. Hers is quite beautiful and lights up her whole face. It was tiring to-day—unending. Lord R. told me there were 400 presentations, and at the end said about 1,200 people had passed. They say the Queen is sometimes made sick by the quantity of people curtseying before her—the constant movement of the people bending down and rising has the same effect upon her as the waters of the sea. I can understand it.
The long Drawing-room to-day was a god-send to Lady A.,—one of Lord C.'s daughters. She is a "débutante," had a very pretty new dress, and was much excited over her presentation, had started very early with her mother so as to see the Queen (who stays only a short hour). The early start and the long waiting in the row of carriages and also the ante-room, exhausted her absolutely. She was sick and faint; they did all they could, brought her brandy, put her near an open window—nothing did any good. She had to retire from the room, go downstairs, have her dress cut open (there was a knot in the lace and they couldn't unlace her bodice), and remained extended on a sofa in the hall—train, veil, feathers, all in a heap. After a rest of two hours, and a cup of tea (procured with great difficulty, as there is no buffet on these occasions) she felt better, and her mother hearing from a friend upstairs, who was "de service," that the Drawing-room was still going on, was most anxious that the girl should pass, so they arranged her veil, hair, and feathers as well as they could, tied the bodice of her dress, and filled in the intervals with some bits of tulle cut from her veil. She passed, and I don't believe anyone noticed anything wrong with her dress, and she was so thankful not to have to go through that long waiting again. It is a most fatiguing day for those who haven't the entrée, as they must sit so long in their carriages in the file.