‘My “father,” at the period of his tenure of the portfolio of Foreign Affairs, had been most intimate with the Comte de Lowendahl in Paris, and he welcomed us with every mark of goodwill. In his former diplomatic relations with Denmark my “father” had been enabled to make himself particularly agreeable to that Court, and on the strength of this he ventured to request from the prince royal some pecuniary assistance, urgently needed in consequence of our precarious position. The comte offered to present me to his royal highness and to second our petition as far as lay in his power. On the day previous to the promised audience, I was strolling by myself in the park of the royal residence, Fredericksborg. At the bend of a path, I suddenly caught sight of a young man dressed in light grey, skipping about rather than walking, carrying an umbrella under one arm, the other being held by a very pretty young woman. The face of the young man seemed so peculiar to me that, my French levity and my schoolboy gaiety getting the better of me, I stopped to contemplate him at my case, and immediately a fit of uncontrollable laughter ringing out loud informed him of the result of my examination. His angry look ought to have told me of his resentment of this impertinent scrutiny on my part, but the angrier he got the more ridiculous his face became to me, and my insolent laughter did not cease until the couple were fairly out of sight. ‘Next morning, on the recommendation of the Comte de Lowendahl, I was to have my audience at the palace. The guards let me pass, and in a little while, crossing a series of resplendent galleries, I reached a velvet curtain giving access to a drawing-room. A page-in-waiting led me into the throne-room, adjoining the private audience-chamber of the prince, and then, my petition in my hand, I waited to be admitted to his royal highness’s presence. In a few moments the doors were thrown open, and a chamberlain called out my name and beckoned me across the threshold. All at once, at the end of the apartment, I beheld, standing upright, the young man I had so grossly insulted the previous day. There could be no mistake about it. It was the same face, the same grey Court dress, but the embroidered star on his breast and his wide blue sash left no doubt about his being the Prince Royal of Denmark. I need not try to depict my feelings to you. Struck with terror, as if I had stepped on a serpent, I recalled both my unseemly laughter and the anger it had aroused. Standing stock-still, and undecided whether I ought to advance or retreat, I was almost expecting immediate punishment for my ill-timed levity of the previous day. I cannot say how long I should have remained in this position, notwithstanding the repeated signals of the chamberlain to draw closer to his highness. Luckily, the young girl to whom the prince had given his arm the previous day, and who was none other than his charming sister, the