The form of the game which we played exacted that the seeker should count slowly up to a hundred with tightly shut eyes and then begin the search; but I compromised this rather wearisome method by allowing five minutes’ “law” and beginning to count at ninety. These odd five minutes were utilized to examine at ease many objects which I should otherwise never have seen; and to an accompaniment of muffled shrieks, thundering footsteps, and a passing vision of fleeting white legs, short frilly skirts, and rather smudgy princely features (for these out-of-the-way corners were a trifle dirty) I was enabled to study many quaint old steel engravings of hunting scenes which hung on the walls, engravings which would make a collector’s mouth water. I still remember the indignation with which Prince Max of Hesse made the discovery that I did not pass these intervals in a state of temporary blindness. “You don’t keep your eyes shut all the time: you _must_ keep them shut,” he objected. (They all spoke English and German equally well, but preferred German when talking among themselves, with the exception of the Greek children, who always spoke English.) I have some difficulty in persuading him that I may honourably keep my eyes fixed on a picture without transgressing the rules of the game. “But you can _see_ us go by out of the corner of your eye,” he persisted. “But I should _hear_ you in any case.” “Well, then you must shut your ears as well; hold your hands over them.” He is a very conscientious little boy and a past master in the matter of argument. If he had not been dragged along by my Princess there is no saying what I might have been forced to do, but she knows when she is having a good time and is no stickler for the strict observance of rules. “Come along, Max,” she cries; “I’ve got a splendid place. Don’t begin to count yet, Topsy.” She has already found a nickname for me, and “Topsy” I remain, for the rest of my career. On the evening of one of the days when we have been playing hide-and-seek my pupil tells me an interesting piece of news. “Papa is coming back to-morrow morning,” she says gleefully, “and then you’ll see him. I expect you’re looking forward to it very much. I shall tell Papa all about you. You are just like all English people--very thin. Why don’t you eat more and try and get fatter?” “I don’t want to get fat,” I reply indignantly; “and if I did, what would be the use when I have to run about all day after you children? I expect I ran at least ten miles this afternoon when we were playing hide-and-seek.” “I expect you did,” answered the Princess regretfully. “It was a splendid game, wasn’t it? Georgie hid in a bath once and Alexander turned the tap on him; but,” returning to an earlier subject, “Papa will want to know all about you, and I shall tell him you are very thin. Won’t you be very pleased to see Papa?”