At the moment I was to get into the post-chaise that was to convey me to the inn near my place of embarkation, the charming Mme. Grassini appeared on the scene. I thought she had simply come to bid me farewell, but she declared she wished to take me to the inn, and made me get into her carriage, which I found full of pillows and packages. "What is all this for?" I inquired. "You are not aware, then," she replied, "that you are going to the worst inn of the world? You may have to wait there a week or more if the wind is not favourable, and I have made up my mind to stay with you." I can hardly say how moved I was at this token of affection. The beautiful woman was leaving the pleasures of London and her friends, to say nothing of the host of admirers always in her train, merely to keep me company. To me this seemed lovable, and I have never forgotten it. It was a great joy to me to see my friends once more, and especially my daughter. Her husband, whom she had accompanied to France, was charged by Prince Narischkin with the mission of engaging musical artists for St. Petersburg. He left a few months later, but alone--for love, alas! had long since vanished--and my daughter remained, to my great satisfaction. To her misfortune and mine, my child had a very quick temper; besides, I had not been able to instil into her completely my own distaste for bad company. Add to this that--whether through my own fault or not--her power over my mind was great, and I had none over hers, and it will be understood how she sometimes made me shed bitter tears. Still, she was my daughter. Her beauty, her gifts, her cleverness rendered her as fascinating as possible, and, though I mourned because I could not persuade her to come to live with me, since she persisted in seeing certain people I would not receive, I at any rate saw her every day, and that in itself was a great blessing. One evening I arranged some living pictures of a kind which had won warm approval in St. Petersburg, and, being careful to place behind the gauze none but handsome men and pretty women, the result was charming. Another day I painted on a screen several head-dresses of historic characters, making holes under them for the insertion of a face. The conversation passing with those who put in their heads amused us vastly. Robert, who took part in all our gaieties like a schoolboy, put his face under Ninon's head-dress, which made us laugh like mad. All these particulars may seem childish to-day, when evening parties are taken up with talking politics or playing cards, but some of us had not yet lost the habit of enjoying ourselves, and the fact is, we enjoyed ourselves very much. After all, these pleasures were well worth the cards of Parisian and the stifling routs of London drawing-rooms.