The Marquise de L., a charming old lady with white hair, beautiful blue eyes, and pink cheeks, a great friend of the Orléans family, went with me when I made my round of visits to thank the royal ladies for accepting our invitation. We found no one but the Princesse Marguerite, daughter of the Duc de Nemours, who was living at Neuilly. I had all my instructions from the marquise, how many courtesies to make, how to address her, and above all not to speak until the princess spoke to me. We were shown into a pretty drawing-room, opening on a garden, where the princess was waiting, standing at one end of the room. Madame de L. named me, I made my courtesies, the princess shook hands, and then we remained standing, facing each other. She didn't say anything. I stood perfectly straight and quiet, waiting. She changed colour, moved her hands nervously, was evidently overcome with shyness, but didn't utter a sound. It seemed very long, was really only a few seconds, but I was getting rather nervous when suddenly a child ran across the garden. That broke the ice and she asked me the classic royal question, "Avez-vous des enfants, madame?" I had only one, and he was rather small, but still his nurse, his teeth, and his food carried me on for a little while and after that we had some general conversation, but I can't say the visit was really interesting. As long as I was in public life I regretted that I had but the one child,--children and nurseries and schoolrooms were always an unfailing topic of conversation. Frenchwomen of all classes take much more interest in the details of their nurseries and the education and bringing-up of their children than we Anglo-Saxons do. I know several mammas who followed all the course of their sons' studies when they were preparing their baccalauréat, even to writing the compositions. The head nurse (English) who takes entire charge of her nursery, who doesn't like any interference, and brings the children to their mother at stated hours, doesn't exist in France.