Italian orderlies, speaking the language of the members of the foreign missions, have been put to their service. The soldier allotted to my husband, Giovanni Varallo by name, a very handsome chap, spoke Russian very well, being born in Moscow where his parents have a little shop. Varallo is a funny sort of type. From the very beginning he made all sorts of blunders; he disengaged himself of his knapsack in the drawing-room, and put his cap on the middle of the table! At eight o’clock the following morning we were awakened by Varallo, who rapped sharply at our door and said that it was time to get up. I dressed quickly, and on entering our sitting-room I saw that Varallo had arranged it according to his idea of a lady’s requirements. To complete all he was holding my hat at the moment and insisted on brushing it with the blacking brush! Mme. Favre, the wife of the French General, asked me to drive with her to the parade ground, our husbands having started together some minutes before us. We went first to the railway station to see the arrival of the King and Queen from Monzo, the Royal summer residence. On stepping out of the train King Humbert, mounted on horseback, and Queen Margareta took her place in a victoria, bowing graciously on right and left. The Italians do not cheer their sovereigns as we do in Russia, they applaud and shout “bravo,” which seemed rather strange to me. At the review we had seats in the Queen’s stand. Queen Margareta sat a few paces from us, looking splendid in a beautiful gown embroidered with golden flowers. The King soon appeared, followed by his suit, my husband in the number. The throng was so great that the policemen had to use main force to procure free passage to the King. A crowd of lookers-on stood behind the double range of soldiers shouting bravo and clapping their hands to the King. In an open space of ground both infantry and cavalry were assembled. After all the regiments had defiled before the King, we went to the Continental where the representatives of the different nations were invited to a banquet given to them by the government. They came out afterwards into the courtyard to have their group taken. The photographer grouped the party according to his idea. Sergy and General Freemantle in the centre, while the others clustered round them. Many failures issued, as all these warriors, feeling themselves returned to boyhood, wouldn’t sit still and laughed when they had to keep serious. The patience of the photographer was something wonderful. I looked at that comic scene out of the gallery facing the courtyard. Captain Sawyer came up to me and said that he had fixed me all the time whilst they were being photographed in order to have a pleasant expression and to look nice.