One of the lateral galleries was reserved for the ambassadors, the ministers, and the plenipotentiaries of Europe, for the military celebrities, and for the illustrious foreign families. The Austrian, Hungarian, and Polish nobles occupied the other gallery. Immediately under the imperial stand was the row of rings to be carried away by the competitors at full tilt. Ranged round the arena on pillars were Turkish and Moorish heads with the traditional turban, equally intended to serve as targets for the combatants. No doubt the hatred of the Teuton warriors for their invaders and implacable foes was kept up in days of yore by similar devices. Finally, in order to prevent accidents, the floor of the riding-school was hidden beneath a layer of fine sand, half-a-foot deep. At the door of the hall there was a barrier, marking the entrance to the lists. Behind that door were posted the heralds-of-arms with their trumpets and in gorgeous costumes. Numberless lustres and candelabra holding wax candles shed through this huge interior a light scarcely inferior to that of day. We were seated between Field-marshal Walmoden and the Prince Philippe de Hesse-Hombourg. Near us was the Prince Nicolas Esterhazy in his uniform of the Hungarian hussars, the magnificent embroidery of which was in itself sufficient to excite the greatest curiosity. The first row of our gallery was occupied by the handsomest and most eminent women of Viennese society: the Princesses Marie Esterhazy, de Wallstein, Jean de Lichtenstein, de Stahremberg, de Colloredo, de Metternich, de Schwartzenberg, the Comtesses Batthyani, de Durkeim, etc. The opposite gallery held the foreign ladies. In the back rows, the ‘highnesses,’ the diplomatic ‘excellencies’ of every country, of every degree of importance, constituted an almost unbroken line of glittering gold and diamonds in their Court dresses and uniforms disappearing beneath their orders and embroideries. A relief was afforded by the red of Cardinal Gonzalvi’s dress; and a little further on by the turban of the Pasha of Widdin, the caftan of Mauroyeny[68] and the colpack of Prince Manug, Bey of Murza. These seemed to supply a kind of variant to this incomparable splendour. ‘Just look at Lady Castlereagh, close to the stand of the sovereigns,’ said the Prince de Ligne. ‘She is wearing her husband’s Garter in diamonds as a kind of tiara. That is a little bit of facetious vanity, not contemplated by courteous Edward III. when he picked up the blue ribbon that fastened the stocking of the handsome Alice of Salisbury. Pride, when it wishes to make itself conspicuous, often plays us some scurvy tricks.’ At eight to the minute a blast of trumpets by the heralds announced the arrival of the twenty-four ladies, escorted by their valiant champions. They took their seats in the first row of their stand.