She now travelled under the appellation of Countess of Cornwall, and had one English gentleman less in her train, Mr. St Leger having withdrawn from the honour of waiting on her at Brunswick. The time had not yet arrived when the _mot d’ordre_ had been given to treat her with disrespect. The governors of German cities were courteous to her as she passed, and the Marshal Duke de Valmy, with all the authorities of Strasburg, offered her the expression of their homage when she traversed that portion of France. After spending the greater portion of September in a tour through Switzerland, she finally sojourned for a while at Geneva, where she met with the ex-Empress of France, Maria Louisa, and became for a time on intimate terms with an imperial lady who, like herself, was separated from her husband. Like her, she was stripped of her old dignity, and, like her, she was accompanied by a young boy. But those boys were not more different in their rank than the two women were in their position, similar as this was in many respects. The boys were Napoleon Francis, ex-King of Rome, and William Austin, son of the Blackheath labourer. The two women, illustrious by rank rather than character, lived much in each other’s society. They dined together, sang together, together listened to the discussions of the philosophers whom they assembled around them, and when together they attended a fancy dress ball one at least astonished the other--the Princess surprising the ex-Empress by appearing in what was called the costume of Venus, and waltzing with a lack of grace that might have won laughter from the goddess of whom the waltzer was the over-fat representative. Maria Louisa was not the only unhusbanded wife whom the wandering Princess encountered in Switzerland. The divorced wife of the Grand Duke Constantine was of this illustrious society. This lady was the Juliana of Saxe-Coburg who, on marrying the Russian Prince, took for her new appellation the name of Anna Feodorowna, and who was so rejoiced to lay that name down again after she had escaped from the brutalities of her husband. The Countess of Cornwall looked upon her with more than ordinary interest, for she was the sister of that Prince Leopold who ultimately married the Princess Charlotte, and whose aspiring hopes were known to, and sanctioned by, the wandering ‘Countess’ herself. The presence in one spot of three princesses, all separated from their then living husbands, had something as singular in it as the meeting of Voltaire’s unsceptred kings at the _table-d’hôte_ at Venice. The ex-Empress was separated from _her_ husband because she did not care to share his fallen fortunes; the Grand Duchess was living alone because the Grand Duke did not care for his wife; and the other lady and her husband had the ocean between them because they heartily hated each other--three sufficient reasons to unite the triad of wanderers within the territories of the Swiss republic.