While the prince was saying these pleasant things to me, I was surprised to observe his valet depositing two apparently very heavy hampers on the floor in the middle of the carriage; but my astonishment was still greater when I saw the princess herself open one of the hampers and take out a table-cloth, plates, a chicken, tumblers, in short, a complete lunch.
"By the way," said the prince, "I forgot to tell you: there's no restaurant-car in the train, so we are going to have a pic-nic lunch here. It will be much better fun!"
And it was. The man put out two folding-tables which were in the carriage; and then, at the princess's suggestion, we all helped to lay the cloth! One looked after the plates, another the glasses, a third the knives and forks, while the princess herself carved the cold fowl.
When everything was at last ready, we sat down around this makeshift luncheon-table and, with a splendid will, did justice to our meal, which, I may say, was excellent. The proprietor of the Hôtel Bristol, who had undertaken to pack the hampers, had had the happy thought of adding a couple of bottles of champagne; and these were the cause of an incident that crowned the gaiety of this merry lunch. The prince declared that he would open them himself. Asking for the first bottle, he prepared to draw the cork with a thousand cunning precautions; but he certainly failed to reckon with the extraordinary impatience of that accursed cork, which was no sooner freed of its restraining bonds than it escaped from the prince's hands and went off like a pistol-shot, while the wine drenched the princess's dress. The prince was very sorry, but the princess laughed the thing off and declared that "it didn't stain." She had her skirt wiped down at once with water; and the luncheon finished as gaily as it began.
I could not give a more striking instance than the story which I have just told of the charming simplicity of this princess, in whom all the domestic virtues are so prettily personified. As I was taking leave of her on board the ship that was to convey the illustrious travellers from Calais to Dover:
"Do come and see us in England," she said. "I should like to show you my children: you have never met them."
"Madam," I replied, "I would do so with pleasure, if my duties allowed me to take a holiday. Meanwhile, may I respectfully remind Your Royal Highness that, on the last journey, you promised me the young princes' photograph?"
"That's true," she answered, "I forgot all about it. But, this time, wait." And, taking her handkerchief from her waistband, the princess made a knot in it. "Now I'm sure to remember," she added with a smile.
And, two days later, I received a splendid photograph of the children, adorned with their mother's signature.
Nearly three years have passed since this last journey and I have not had the honour of seeing King George and Queen Mary since. Nevertheless, they are good enough to think of me sometimes, as will be seen by the following affectionate letter which my friend Sir Arthur Bigge sent me on my retirement: