Prince Metternich told us that he had had a visit in the afternoon from Monsieur Dué, the Swedish secretary, who had been on the verge of desperation on account of his not having been able to secure a suitable box for King Charles XIV. of Sweden, who arrived last night to spend a few days here. He wished to see Schneider in "La Belle Hélène." Monsieur Dué had gone to the Minister of Foreign Affairs and suggested that the Minister offer his box; but that had already been given to the Metternichs. When Prince Metternich was informed of this he did not hesitate to place the box in question at the King's disposal; but, not to disappoint the Princess and me, he had taken an ordinary box opposite. The King was already in his _loge_ when we arrived. He is a large, handsome man with a full, black beard, and has a very pleasant face. Between the first and second acts Monsieur Dué came to Prince Metternich and told him that the King desired to see him. Of course the Prince went directly, and returned delighted with the King's affability, and to our great surprise brought us a message from the King, asking us all to come to his box and join him, and proposing to send Monsieur Dué and his gentleman-in-waiting to take our places in our box. We accepted with pleasure, and passed the rest of the evening in the charming society of the most amiable of kings. He said to me that "Oscar," as he called his brother (Prince Oscar, the hereditary Prince), had spoken about me and our singing the duet written by his brother, Prince Gustave, and asked how I managed about the Swedish words. I replied that Prince Oscar had taught them to me during the dinner preceding the singing. "Could you understand the words?" he asked. "No," I replied. "I only know that it was something about London and Emma." The King laughed most heartily, and said, "I shall tell that to Oscar when I go home, and he will see how well you profited by his lessons." We were all immensely amused at Cora Pearl's appearance; it was her debut as an actress. I never saw any one look so sheepish as she did, in spite of her paint and powder and beautiful legs. She wore high-heeled slippers, so high that she could hardly walk, which made her even more awkward than she naturally was. She only had a few lines to sing, and this she did so badly that people nearly hissed her. She was evidently engaged as a drawing-card; but the only thing she drew was ridicule on herself.