THE PRINCESS HEARS FROM THE WORLD


The sun shone clear and hot, and the guests in the garden were glad to
rest in the shaded places of promenade along the brooksides and under
the beeches and soaring pines of the avenues. Far up the extended hollow
there was a basin first to receive the water from the conduit supposed
to tap the aqueduct leading down from the forest of Belgrade. The noise
of the little cataract there was strong enough to draw a quota of
visitors. From the front gate to the basin, from the basin to the summit
of the promontory, the company in lingering groups amused each other
detailing what of fortune good and bad the year had brought them. The
main features of such meetings are always alike. There were games by the
children, lovers in retired places, and old people plying each other
with reminiscences. The faculty of enjoyment changes but never expires.

An array of men chosen for the purpose sallied from the basement of the
palace carrying baskets of bread, fruits in season, and wine of the
country in water-skins. Dispersing themselves through the garden, they
waited on the guests, and made distribution without stint or
discrimination. The heartiness of their welcome may be imagined; while
the thoughtful reader will see in the liberality thus characterizing her
hospitality one of the secrets of the Princess's popularity with the
poor along the Bosphorus. Nor that merely. A little reflection will lead
up to an explanation of her preference for the Homeric residence by
Therapia. The commonalty, especially the unfortunate amongst them, were
a kind of constituency of hers, and she loved living where she could
most readily communicate with them.

This was the hour she chose to go out and personally visit her guests.