The train rattles and jerks its way along. “Nanna’s” voice continues to croon in my ear words of warning, admonishment, advice. I listen without hearing or comprehension. Her voice is as some soothing accompaniment to my thoughts, giving a pleasant sense of companionship without exacting much attention. Somewhere about seven o’clock another soft tap is heard and the door slides back, revealing a footman with another tray of tea and _Zwieback_--those nice brown crunchy toast-like biscuits which pervade the Fatherland. “You’ll have your proper breakfast when you arrive at the New Palace,” whispers “Nanna,” “but you’ll not get it much before nine. You’d better have some more.” I accept the fresh tea with pleasure, and listen as I drink it to the movement in the corridor. There is a sliding of doors, a sound of subdued voices--everybody is getting up. Nanna disappears to dress her Princess, who has slept soundly all night--happy capacity of childhood!--and when I peep out into the corridor I see some of the ladies-in-waiting already dressed, looking rather wearily out of the window. A man comes in and makes my bed-clothes disappear in some miraculous manner, leaving behind him, instead of the two sleeping berths, in one of which I had lain awake so long, just the ordinary seat of a first-class carriage, of which the upper berth now forms the padded back. Some of the ladies kindly come and sit beside me and point out interesting objects of the landscape. The Countess is one of them, and grows quite excited when at length a round green dome is visible over some trees. “There, there!” she cries, “that is the roof of the New Palace; we shall be there very soon--I hope you will be very happy there,” and she squeezes my hand in the kindly sympathetic, sentimental, but very delightful manner of old-fashioned Germans. She feels that it is an important day of my life, the moment when I enter what she calls the “real home” of the Emperor and Empress. “Like Windsor to your King and Queen,” she explains, fearing that the forty castles which the Emperor possesses may create some confusion in my ideas. “Here is their real ‘home,’ you know.” The train, which has been proceeding much more evenly since we entered the Prussian district, glides smoothly into a station, coming gently and imperceptibly to a stop. A few officers in uniform are waiting at the door of the simple, picturesque wooden _Warte-Saal_--which a few years later is to be replaced by a substantial stone building provided with lifts and luxurious and artistically-furnished waiting-rooms.