"Your husband must always be at the door with his chef de cabinet, who
will replace him while he takes the princess to her place."

The Marquise de L., a charming old lady with white hair, beautiful blue
eyes, and pink cheeks, a great friend of the Orleans family, went with
me when I made my round of visits to thank the royal ladies for
accepting our invitation. We found no one but the Princesse Marguerite,
daughter of the Duc de Nemours, who was living at Neuilly. I had all my
instructions from the marquise, how many courtesies to make, how to
address her, and above all not to speak until the princess spoke to me.
We were shown into a pretty drawing-room, opening on a garden, where the
princess was waiting, standing at one end of the room. Madame de L.
named me, I made my courtesies, the princess shook hands, and then we
remained standing, facing each other. She didn't say anything. I stood
perfectly straight and quiet, waiting. She changed colour, moved her
hands nervously, was evidently overcome with shyness, but didn't utter a
sound. It seemed very long, was really only a few seconds, but I was
getting rather nervous when suddenly a child ran across the garden. That
broke the ice and she asked me the classic royal question, "Avez-vous
des enfants, madame?" I had only one, and he was rather small, but still
his nurse, his teeth, and his food carried me on for a little while and
after that we had some general conversation, but I can't say the visit
was really interesting. As long as I was in public life I regretted
that I had but the one child,--children and nurseries and schoolrooms
were always an unfailing topic of conversation. Frenchwomen of all
classes take much more interest in the details of their nurseries and
the education and bringing-up of their children than we Anglo-Saxons do.
I know several mammas who followed all the course of their sons' studies
when they were preparing their baccalaureat, even to writing the
compositions. The head nurse (English) who takes entire charge of her