Our jaunty postilion blew his little horn incessantly as we galloped through the village and up the long, steep hill which leads to the château. The walls on both sides of the badly paved, narrow road were high and unpicturesque--not a tree to be seen; vineyards, vineyards everywhere --nothing but vineyards. The château is a very ugly building, of no particular kind of architecture, looking more like a barn than a castle. It is shaped like an enormous E, without towers or ornamentation of any kind. The Princess was at the door, and welcomed me most affectionately, and with her were the other guests: the handsome Duchess d'Ossuna, Count Zichy, Count Kevenhüller, Count Fitz-James, and Commandant Duperré. The immense hall, which occupies the entire center of the house, has five windows giving out on the courtyard and five on the terrace, and is comfortably furnished with all kinds of arm-chairs, rugs, and so forth. A grand piano stood in one corner near the window, and over this window was an awning (an original idea of the Princess, to put an awning inside, instead of outside of the window). An unusually large table, covered with quaint books, periodicals, and the latest novels, stood in the middle of the room, and there were plants, palms, and flowers everywhere. The Princess showed me the different rooms. Her boudoir was hung with embroidered satin. One room I liked particularly; the walls were covered with the coarsest kind of écru linen, on which were sewed pink pigeons cut out of cretonne; even the ceiling had its pigeons flying away in the distance. Another room was entirely furnished in cashmere shawls--a present from the Shah himself. There must have been a great many, to have covered the walls and all the divans. Nowhere could the Princess have had such a chance to show what she could do as here, in the transforming of this barrack into a livable place. I admired everything immensely. She told me that she thought she was very practical, because, when they leave here, all the hangings can be taken down and folded and put away, so that the next year they are just as good as new. They only stay here two months every year (July and August); the enormous display of flowers on the long terrace before the château is also temporary. There are at least four to five hundred pots of flowers, mostly geraniums, which make a brilliant effect for the time being, as long as the family are here; then they go back to the greenhouse. Tea was served in the hall; every one was in the gayest of spirits, and crowded around the piano to hear Prince Metternich's last waltz, which was very inspiring. After the music was finished and the tea-table removed, I was shown to my rooms; I reached them by a tiny winding staircase, the walls of which were hung with Adrianople (turkey red), and covered with miniatures and fine engravings.