On the right side of the bay of Kronstadt our cruisers stood in a long line, and huge German men-of-war were anchored on the left one. Numerous steam-launches were plying all the time from one fleet to another. On one of our vessels a band was playing on the deck; it was our marine officers who were feasting their German comrades. The weather was very fine and the sea had scarcely a ripple. Towards six o’clock dinner was spread on deck in Swedish fashion on a long table covered with appetising dishes, and you were asked to help yourself. That is a good way, because you have the opportunity of selecting what you prefer and of taking as much as you like. At five o’clock in the morning we landed at Helsingfors and had only one hour to survey this pretty town. When we returned to our boat a fresh breeze arose and our ship began to pitch and rock. This disagreeable tossing of the waves made me feel sick and giddy. I hastened to my cabin and lay down. Early in the morning I was up and hastened on deck. The shores of Sweden had appeared at last, and soon we entered the port of Stockholm, the Venice of the North. The town, built upon islands, is very picturesque. As a rule, the Swedes are exceedingly courteous to strangers, nevertheless at the Custom House the officials burrowed into our trunks and opened all our bags, making a mess of everything. One of the men picked out a little folding looking-glass and turned it about in his clumsy fingers trying to find out what it was, till Sergy, at the end of his patience, opened the looking-glass and thrust it under the man’s ugly face, after which he left us in peace. We put up at the Grand Hôtel, just opposite the Royal Palace. After having taken a little rest we went for a stroll in the town and crossed in a small steamer to Djurgarden, a beautiful park on the other side of the bay, where we had dinner at a small restaurant. A waiter, napkin upon arm, came up to us, but as we couldn’t speak a word of Swedish, we found it difficult to make him understand what we wanted, and had to converse by gestures to illustrate our meaning. But our attempts to describe a chicken being useless, the idea came to me to cry out cou-ca-ri-cou, and I came out of the difficulty. We ended our evening at “Tivoli,” a fashionable music-hall, where we met several fellow-passengers of our boat. The performance took place in the open. The actresses who sang and danced were more or less bad, very short-petticoated and very generously décolleté. The next day we visited Drottningholm Palace, situated out of town, the summer residence of the King, who was for the moment in Norway, where he is obliged to live a part of the year. After dinner we started for Malmö, where we arrived early in the morning on the following day, and then took the train to Copenhagen. CHAPTER XLVIII COPENHAGEN