On that same day the missions were invited to dinner at Monzo. I remained alone at the hotel and sat in the deep window-seat to witness their departure. Varallo found it his duty to entertain me during my husband’s absence and brought up an album with coloured views of Milan, which he began to explain to me. Sergy returned enchanted with the warm reception of the Royal family. At dinner he sat next to the beautiful Countess Barromée. All the ladies wore a daisy pinned on their bodices, in honour of Queen Margaret. When the guests were leaving Monzo, the King, speaking in Russian, bade Sergy adieu, saying _Do svidania_, which means “good-bye,” and asked Sergy to transmit his best regards to our Emperor. CHAPTER XXXII VENICE On the following day we took the Venice express at nine o’clock in the morning. Two Belgian members of the foreign missions travelled to Venice with us. Colonel Theuniss and Major Havard proved very entertaining companions, only their knowledge of Russia was sadly deficient. They believed that wolves prowled in the streets of St. Petersburg in broad daylight. At eight o’clock in the evening we reached Venice and rolled slowly along a narrow pier. At the railway-station a group of gondoliers rushed up to us, offering their gondolas, just like cabmen. We stepped down into a gondola lighted up by lanterns on bow and poop. The gondolier pushed off from the steps and we silently glided along the Great Canal, surrounded by side canals crossed by small private bridges. Venice is built on piles, and stands upon many islands linked by bridges. At each crossing of the aquatic streets our strong-lunged gondolier shouted _Gia-e!_ to escape collision. He brought us to the Hotel Danielli where we passed a sleepless night, not having followed the wise advice of the chambermaid, who told us not to raise the mosquito-nets. We were thoroughly punished for it, having been devoured by mosquitoes. Lunch over, we went out for a walk along narrow little pathways leading to the Piazza San Marco. After a stroll in the arcades of the Square, we took a gondola for a sail on the Canale Grande. We glided smoothly on the silent waves of the Adriatic, passing before grim old buildings. The palaces in which Byron, Schiller and Lucrezia Borgia have dwelt are now transformed into hotels. Venice, the town of legends and dreams, has very unpleasant odours, and nearly all the windows are hung with a flutter of drying sheets and towels, flapping in the air like old tattered flags.