class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="pg 4"/> questions don't trouble them very much, there was great excitement when the news came.

I had a nice talk with Plunkett, who congratulated me on W.'s^[1] appointment as Ambassador to Vienna. I told him there was no truth in the report (they had offered it to W., but he won't hear of it), and I think he is quite right. He has no particular attaches at Vienna. He knows German well, but doesn't speak it absolutely perfectly, and hasn't really the social talents that one needs in Vienna. They ought to send a dashing general, or a courtier, not a serious savant.

We certainly are leading different lives. I am wrapped in my fur coat, and driving in a shut carriage. Your tea in the garden sends a shiver through me. It sounds quite romantic having the son of the "Roi des Montagnes" to breakfast. I wonder if I shall ever see Athens; W. says when I do that I will never care again for Rome; that colouring and ruins are far superior in Greece. I almost think in that case I would rather remain under my present impression of dear, beautiful Rome, not quite like our American friend, who thought "the Colosseum was pretty, but she liked the Court-House at St. Louis better."

Paris,
Sunday, March 18, 1883.

I will write a little this morning, Dear—I am just back from l'Étoile. I have had rather an agitated week, and here is my news, good—bad—I don't know myself. W. is going as Ambassador Extraordinary to Moscow to represent France at the Coronation of the Emperor Alexander. It was a "bolt from the blue" to us. I will tell you from the beginning. We went to ride as usual Thursday morning, but rather earlier than usual (9.30). When we came home Mdme. Hubert told us we hadn't been gone ten minutes, when le Ministre des Affaires Étrangères (Challemel-Lacour) came to see W., was much discomposed at not finding him, and told Mdme. H. he would come back at 11. He didn't reappear, but one of the young attachés did, with a note from Challemel begging W. to come and see him directly after breakfast. We couldn't think what he wanted, but we both made up our minds it was to insist on the Vienna Embassy. I protested, and I think W. would not have taken it.

I went out in the afternoon with Anne to try on a dress at Redfern's, and just as we were coming away W. appeared. He had seen the carriage at the door and knew he would find us. He looked rather preoccupied, so I said, "You are not surely going to Vienna?"

"No, not to Vienna, probably to Russia, for the Coronation."

I was too bewildered at first to take it in, and I must frankly say I was wretched. Of course he asked 24 hours to think it over, though the Minister urged him very much to accept at once. Challemel also wishes me to go, says a woman gives more éclat to an Embassy. Of course it will be a magnificent sight, but I am a perfect poltroon—I am so afraid they will take advantage of that crowd to blow up everybody. However, if that should happen it would be better to be blown up together, but I really am nervous (I am not usually such a coward, but Russian Nihilists and dynamiters are terrible elements to contend with), and wish they hadn't asked him to go.

Of course it is a great honour and compliment to W.'s personal position, and I have given no opinion, but I don't feel happy at all. I have always said that I would never try to influence my husband's actions (public) in any way, and I suppose I have kept to that as well as most women do who marry public men, but I should like to put a decided veto now. I will keep you au courant of the decision.

March 20th.

Well, Dear, it is quite decided. W. accepts to go to Moscow, and takes me with him. He consulted his brother and his friends and all told him he could not refuse. As long as they didn't send a soldier (W. himself would have asked Maréchal MacMahon to go, if he had been at the Foreign Office), he was "tout indiqué." ^[2] It seems all the other Powers are going to send Princes—Spain, the Duc de Montpensier; England, the Duke of Edinburgh; Italy, the Duc d'Aoste, etc.

We are to start somewhere about the 8th or 10th of May. W. is busy now composing his Mission. Of course everybody wants to go. It seems such an undertaking. We had a nice ride this morning—various people riding with us, and all talking about the Coronation. I overheard one timid old gentleman saying to W., "Vous emmenez votre femme? Vous avez tort; on ne sait pas ce qui peut arriver"—not very reassuring.

April 1st.

My Dear, my letters will now become monotonous, as I have only one idea—the Mission. All the arrangements are being made, such an affair. W. has sent off a man to Moscow to see about a house big enough to hold all the party, with ballroom, and large dining-room We are 9 people—W. and I; Comte de Pontécoulant, Ministre Plénipotentiaire (W.'s ancien Chef de Cabinet); Général Pittié (Général de Division, chef de la maison militaire du Président de la République); Colonel Comte de Sesmaisons, commandant les 6ème hussards; François de Corcelle, Secrétaire d'Ambassade; Commandant Fayet (de la maison du Président—Jules Grévy); Richard Waddington, Député, Capitaine dans l'armée territoriale; Robert Calmon, lieutenant dans l'armée territoriale. L'uniforme est absolument nécessaire en Russie.

We have three servants—W.'s valet Joseph and my two maids Adelaïde and Mdme. Hubert. All the gentlemen have their servants. Then there is Pierson, the huissier from the Quai d'Orsay (you know whom I mean, the big man who wears a gilt chain, announces the people, and writes down names, etc.), two cooks with one or two garçons de cuisine; 3 coachmen, Hubert of course, and two Englishmen. One, Mr. Leroy, such a magnificent person, came this morning to see W. He has already représenté on several occasions, and driven gala carriages, etc. He seems graciously inclined to go with us (with very high wages, and making his conditions—will drive only the Ambassador and Ambassadress in the gala carriage, etc.). That will necessitate very delicate negotiations with Hubert, who also wishes to drive only the Ambassador and me. However, as he has never driven a gala carriage, and they are very heavy, unwieldy vehicles to manage, I think he must waive his claim.

April 10th.

There has also been a long consultation about horses, how many for the gala carriage. When Maréchal MacMahon went as Ambassador Extraordinary to the Emperor of Germany's Coronation he had six horses and running footmen (it seems there must be six or two—four are not allowed. Four would be too sporting—not serious enough). We have four enormous footmen, and one ordinary sized one for every-day use—2 gala carriages, and a coupé d'Orsay, which must be painted dark blue with white stripes, our colours.

April 12th.

We are getting on slowly. The horse question is settled—no one has more than two, so we take 9 enormous carrossiers. Hawes is commissioned to get them. They could not be found anywhere in France. I forget the exact height (as big as they make them), but he promises to get them from England, or the Luxembourg, where it seems they have a special breed of enormous, heavy coach horses.

We had a most satisfactory interview this morning with M. Lhermite, the head man of the great restaurant, Potel & Chabot. W. had been rather bothered