"Mais, c'est terrible," cried Vogüé. "Ne pouvez-vous pas l'arrêter? Est-ce qu'il n'y a pas de vis?" "Il n'y a pas le moindre vice, Monsieur," shaking his head in despair. Then I stopped short. How could I sing when I was convulsed with laughter? "Il faut la remonter," the showman said, with a resigned air, and, turning to the audience, he announced that such a thing had never happened before. "La poupée a été probablement dérangée pendant le voyage." This caused much merriment. "Elle a besoin de l'huile," said the Prince in a loud stage whisper, and took the oil-can and flourished it about my shoulders. They made so many jokes and puns that they were continually interrupted by the peals of laughter which followed each joke. "Faites-la donc chanter," implored Vogüé. "N'y a-t-il pas un clou?" "S'il y en avait eu un, je l'aurais trouvé, puisque c'est le clou de la soirée." "Mon Dieu! Que faire? Et tout le monde qui attend. Cherchez bien. Vous trouverez peut-être un bouton." The Prince answered, sadly, "Not a sign of a button, Monsieur." And he added, in a loud voice, "We ought to have a button in _gold_, so that one can see it." He said this with intention, thinking it might suggest to the Emperor to give me the gold button which he only gives to those he wishes to make life-members of his Hunts. Ladies do not often get them. At last, the mortified assistant applied the rattle and wound me up again. I gave a little nod with my head; they both struck attitudes of satisfaction, and one said, "Now she is going to sing 'Beware!'" which called forth a burst of applause from the audience. I sang "Beware!" and the Prince, thinking I made the trill too long, tried to stop me by using the rattle again, which was almost the death of me. I wore some long ribbons around my neck, and the more the Prince turned it, the tighter the ribbons choked me. Happily I had breath enough to go on singing; but I turned my head and fixed a glassy eye on my tormentor, and, instead of singing "Trust her not, she's fooling thee," I sang, "Trust him not, he's choking me, he's choking me." Luckily he understood, and the people who knew English understood and appreciated the situation. When it was all finished the Empress came hurriedly toward me, exclaiming: "Thank Heaven! I thought the Prince was going to strangle you. I was so frightened." She then kissed me on both cheeks, and the Emperor gallantly kissed my hand. They both said they had never laughed so much in their lives, and were most profuse in their thanks, complimenting all those who had taken part in the charade; certainly Robert de Vogüé and the Prince Metternich both outdid themselves. It was one o'clock when tea was served in the Emperor's salon. You may imagine if I was tired. _November 25th._ DEAR M.,--As the programme announced this morning that there was to be a _chasse à tir_ this afternoon, I put on my green costume brought for this purpose.