We all assemble before dinner in a large drawing-room, where the ladies and gentlemen of the suite and any visitors who are invited stand about talking till the appearance of the Emperor and Empress. Often the Princess comes in before them with Prince Joachim. The folding-doors are thrown wide open for the entrance of Their Majesties, who always appear at different doors, the Emperor usually being last, and are announced by a footman. Everybody at once stops talking, wheels about and bows simultaneously. One day the guests at dinner include an elderly lady and gentleman of an old-fashioned German type, who shrink into a corner and look rather clever and scientific. The Princess and Prince Joachim run up and kiss the old lady and shake hands with the old gentleman. He is Professor von Esmarck, who, when he was a struggling young doctor, fell in love with a Princess--the aunt of the present Empress of Germany--and married her. The elderly lady with the tightly-brushed hair is his wife. They live in a pleasant little house in Homburg, and always dine at the Schloss when the court is staying there. My own experience would lead me to testify to the truth of what I have read somewhere, that the chief function of a lady-or gentleman-in-waiting is to stand in a draught and smile. “Standing and waiting,” said my kind Countess, “that is the chief part of our lives; it makes one mentally and bodily weary till one gets used to it.” Hand-shaking too is practised to a considerable extent. It does not seem to matter how many times people have met before in the day and shaken hands, they generally seem to like to do it again while waiting for dinner. Presumably it helps to pass the time away, and gives an excuse for walking about from group to group. My place at the oval dinner-table is at one end, between Prince Joachim’s governor and his tutor. The Emperor and Empress are seated at the sides, opposite to each other, while the guests, intermingled with court ladies and gentlemen, radiate right and left. Footmen wearing the court livery, which includes rather ill-fitting gaiters, wait behind every chair and the Emperor’s “Jäger” in green uniform attends exclusively to his master’s wants. Red and white wine and champagne are served to all the guests, but neither the Emperor nor the Empress drinks anything but fruit-juice as a beverage. William II has a horror of excessive indulgence in alcohol, and sets his face against it by both precept and example. “You English people,” he says to me on one occasion, “you drink those awful fiery spirits--horrible stuff--whisky, brandy, what not? How can you imbibe such quantities of poisonous liquid--ruining your constitutions? Simply ruining them--whisky-and-soda everywhere--no, it’s awful: I tasted it once--like liquid fire--ugh! Your drinking habits are fearful.”