At nine o'clock our tea, coffee, or chocolate (as we choose) is brought to our rooms by a white-stockinged and powdered valet. If you are very energetic, you can go for a walk in the park, or (as I did to my sorrow) a visit to the town. But you are not energetic more than once, because you do not find it worth your while, as you must hurry back, and change your dress and shoes before appearing in the salon a little before eleven o'clock, the hour for breakfast. You remain in the same dress until you change for dinner or the Empress's tea. You find every morning in your room a programme for the day. _Déjeuner à onze heures. Chasse à tir à deux heures. Comédie Française à neuf heures._ So you know what to wear and what to expect; but the invitation to tea is always made by the Empress's private _huissier_, who knocks at your door toward five o'clock and announces, "Her Majesty the Empress desires your presence at five o'clock." The _toilette de rigueur_ for this occasion is a high-necked long silk dress, and you generally remain until six o'clock. If you are not summoned to her Majesty's tea, tea is served in your own salon, where you can invite people to take tea with you, or you are invited to take tea with other people. If there is a hunt, the ladies wear their green-cloth costumes and the gentlemen wear their hunting gear (a red coat, velvet cap, and top-boots). The gentlemen wear _culottes courtes_ the first evening they arrive, and on such fine occasions as the _curée_, and at the Gala Theater, where outsiders are invited; otherwise they always wear _pantalon collant_, which is the most unbecoming thing one can imagine in the way of manly attire. At six o'clock you dress for dinner, always in ball dress, and a little before seven you meet in the Grande Salle des Fêtes. At dinner the guests are placed according to their rank, but at _déjeuner_ there is no ceremony, and you engage your partner after your heart's desire. Those who are high up at dinner try to get as far down at the end of the table as possible. With me it is all ups and downs; at breakfast I am 'way up to the very top, and at dinner 'way down. After _déjeuner_ the Master of Ceremonies inquires what you wish to do; that is to say, if there is nothing special mentioned on the programme, such as a review, or manoeuvers, or a _chasse à courre_, when all are expected to join. Do you wish to walk? You can tramp up and down the one-thousand-metre-long trellis walk, sheltered from wind and rain. Do you wish to drive? There are carriages of all descriptions, _chars-à- bancs_, landaus, pony-carriages, and even a donkey-cart, at your service. Do you care to ride? There are one hundred and fifty horses eating their heads off in the Imperial stables waiting for you. Do the gentlemen wish to go shooting? There are countless gamekeepers booted and spurred, with guns and game-bags on their shoulders, impatient to accompany you.