A few days after, the Princess Mathilde sent me a lovely fan which she had
painted herself, and Mr. Moulton is going to have it mounted. I am very
happy to have it as a souvenir of a memorable evening, besides being an
exquisite specimen of the Princess's talent as an artist. The Princess is
what one might call miscellaneous. She has a Corsican father, a German
mother, and a Russian husband, and as "cavaliere servente" (as they say in
Italy), a Dutchman. She was born in Austria, brought up in Italy, and
lives in France. She said once to Baron Haussmann, "If you go on making
boulevards like that, you will shut me up like a vestal."

"I will never make another, your Highness," he answered.

Every one is very much excited about a young Swedish girl called Christine
Nilsson, who has walked right into the star-light, for she really is a
star of the first magnitude. She has studied with Wachtel only one year,
and behold her now singing at the Theatre Lyrique to crowded audiences in
the "Flute Enchantee." Her voice has a wonderful charm; she sings without
the slightest effort, and naturally as a bird. She has some phenomenal
high notes, which are clear as bells. She makes that usually tedious
_grand aria_, which every singer makes a mess of, quite lovely and
musical, hovering as she does in the regions above the upper line like a
butterfly and trilling like a canary-bird. A Chinese juggler does not play
with his glass balls more dexterously than she plays with all the effects
and tricks of the voice. What luck for her to have blossomed like that
into a full-fledged prima-donna with so little effort. I have got to know
her quite well, as Miss Haggerty, who was at some school with her in
Paris, invites her often to lunch and asks me to meet her.

Nilsson is tall, graceful, slight, and very attractive, without being
actually handsome. She acts well and naturally, and with intelligence,