that even foreigners who know the language well find it sometimes
difficult to follow everything, and to translate quickly enough to keep
one au courant is almost impossible. When they could they drifted into
English, and W. said he was most interesting--speaking of the war and
all the North had done, without ever putting himself forward.

We had both of us often to act as interpreters with French and
Anglo-Saxons, neither understanding the other's language, and always
found it difficult. I remember a dinner at Sandringham some years ago
when W. was at the embassy. The Prince of Wales (late King Edward) asked
me to sit next to a foreign ambassador who understood not one word of
English. The dinner was exclusively English--a great many clever
men--the master of Trinity College, Cambridge (asked especially to meet
my husband, who graduated from Trinity College), Lord Goschen, James
Knowles of the _Nineteenth Century_, Froude, the historian, Sir Henry
James, Lord Wolseley, etc. The talk was very animated, very witty. There
were peals of laughter all around the table. My ambassador was very
fidgety and nervous, appealing to me all the time, but by the time I had
laboriously condensed and translated some of the remarks, they were
talking of something quite different, and I am afraid he had very hazy
ideas as to what they were all saying.

We saw, naturally, all the distinguished strangers who passed through
Paris that year of 1878. Many of our colleagues in the diplomatic corps
had played a great role in their own country. Prince Orloff, the Russian
ambassador, was one of our great friends. He gave us very good advice on
one or two occasions. He was a distinguished-looking man--always wore a
black patch over one eye--he had been wounded in the Crimea. He spoke
English as well as I did and was a charming talker. General Cialdini was
at the Italian embassy. He was more of a soldier than a statesman--had