The Russian dance was followed by mazurkas, a kind of quadrille, originally hailing from Massow. Among ball-room dances none demand greater agility and none lend themselves to more statuesque movements. In order that nothing might be wanting to the magnificence of this fête, there was, in accordance with the latest fashion in Vienna, a lottery. The prizes were many and handsome to a degree. An apparently trivial circumstance lent an unexpected interest to the proceedings. Custom had decreed that each cavalier, if favoured by luck, should offer his prize to a lady. A rich sable cape fell to the lot of the Prince of Würtemberg: he immediately offered it to her in whose honour the entertainment was given. Verily, he had his reward. Handsome Grand-Duchess Catherine wore in her bosom a posy of flowers, fastened by a ribbon. She unfastened it, and presented it to the donor of the cape. The whole scene, which practically emphasised in public the existence of a quasi-secret attachment, elicited murmurs of approval and wishes for the young people’s happiness. ‘Hail to the future Queen of Würtemberg,’ remarked Prince Koslowski to me; ‘queen when it shall please the crowned Nimrod to vacate the place. In reality, no crown will have ever graced a more beautiful brow.’ The episode, and the conjectures to which it gave rise, added another charm to this fête marked by so many. The dancing had ceased, and the prince and I strolled through the vast rooms of the palace, which might easily have been mistaken for a temple erected to art, so numerous were the masterpieces collected there by its owner. Here pictures by the greatest painters of every school: Raphaels by the side of Rubenses, Van Dycks in juxtaposition to Correggios; there, a library filled to overflowing with most precious books and rare manuscripts; in a third spot a cabinet containing most exquisite specimens of ancient art and modern carving. The majority of the guests, however, seemed to prefer a gallery set apart for the marvels of the sculptor’s chisel, among which was some of the best handiwork of Canova. The gallery was lighted by alabaster lamps, the soft glow of which seemed to throw into relief the perfection of those statues apparently endowed with life.