For a few minutes we conversed in Russian, and then, after paying me many compliments, to my relief he changed to French. He asked me a great many questions in connection with my new study—did I not find it very difficult? What language did I think it most resembled? I told him that I thought there was similarity with none so far as I knew, except as regarded Aryan roots, but that there were more grammatical analogies with Greek than with any other language of which I had any knowledge. He agreed, and that led him to speak of Latin, reminding me of what I had said to him at my presentation about the public orator’s speech at Oxford, at whose expense he once more laughed heartily. He spoke for some little time about life at the University and the beauty of Oxford, which seemed to have interested him greatly, and after a very pleasant talk, went on to speak to some of the other guests. Any mark of the Emperor’s condescension was sure to make a great sensation at St. Petersburg, and for twenty-four hours I was quite a hero. “On dit que l’Empereur a causé avec vous en Russe—vous devez en être joliment fier!” That was the gist of what everyone whom I met the next day said to me. I should have been even less or more than human if I had not felt flattered and proud. One evening Lady Napier, who had rather broken down after the trials of the winter and was soon going to Germany for a rest and change, invited a few of the diplomats and other friends to a small farewell rout. Belloli, the painter, had just sent home a portrait of her which was much praised. General Cassius Clay, after looking at it thoughtfully for a few moments and then at her, said: “I guess, Ma’am, you was ruddier when that was done.” Our much-loved ambassadress certainly was looking a little pale, and tired; but the good General probably never heard the old saying, “Toute vérité n’est pas bonne à dire.” The Duc d’Osuna was even more droll. His criticism of the portrait was: “Oui, c’est zoli—c’est même très bien; mais le portrait qu’il a fait de moi est bien plus zoli!” He was such a dear little man, and so kindly, that one loved him just as he was with his weaknesses and small vanities, which hurt nobody; everyone laughed, and nobody would have wished him otherwise. At Prince Gortchakoff’s on the 18th we heard the news of the storming and capture of Düppel. The Prince’s remark to the Prussian _chargé d’affaires_ on getting the telegram was, “J’espère enfin que c’est la paix!” He did not seem to think that the united forces of Austria and Prussia combined had much to boast of in having beaten unassisted Denmark.