The material for another book which was largely circulated in England was supposed to have been “given” to the author by a lady well known, and in great favour at Court. This novel--for it was, in many respects, fiction pure and simple--was mentioned to me, and, upon reading it, I was amazed to find the names of persons who never existed, and who were, therefore, never at Court. There was no attempt to hide names under pseudonyms or initials--these imaginary beings lived, moved and had their being in the book as real individuals! I was so much interested in the creative genius of the “Court Lady” that a friend of mine wrote to the part-author and asked him, on my behalf, to disclose her name. My request was refused: the part-author said that he was under an honourable vow of secrecy not to disclose the name of his collaborator! But was this sporting? The book contained certain damning statements against the Empress, it bristled with inaccuracies; truly, anonymous Court histories cover a multitude of untruths! But surely those who profit thereby should have courage enough to come out in the open when certain questions arise. You either make a statement, or you do not. If you believe in its truth, you should not be ashamed to say why, and wherefore, and to acknowledge the source of its origin, but I am inclined to think that the words, “I gave my word not to say who told me,” place little value on malicious gossip, either in books or in everyday life. CHAPTER IV The Empress was an early riser. She had six dressers, of whom the chief, Madeleine Zanoty, was an Italian by birth, whose family had long been in the service of the Hesses. Louise Toutelberg, known as “Toutel,” the second in authority, came from the Baltic, and there were four others. The dressers had three days’ service, but none of them ever saw the Empress undressed or in her bath. She rose and went to her bath unassisted, and slipped on a Japanese kimono of silk or printed cotton over her undergarments when she was ready to have her hair arranged. The Empress was extraordinarily modest in her disarray, and in this the Victorian influence was again discernible, as her conception of the bedroom was à-la-mode de Windsor and Buckingham Palace in 1840. She did not countenance the filmy and theatrical, either in her lingerie or in her sleeping apartment; her underwear was of the finest linen, beautifully embroidered, but otherwise plain. Her red-gold hair was never touched with curling irons, and it was usually very simply dressed, except when great State functions called for a more elaborate coiffure.