she fell on her knees and entreated forgiveness for her stupidity in having asked the royal visitor into the kitchen. But Alfonso, with his usual kindness, expressed interest in this, the first kitchen he had ever seen. He asked many questions about the utensils, and showed great curiosity about the use of a ceramic vessel, which, according to the description he subsequently gave and the sketch he made of it to show the Court officials, proved to be an egg-poacher. The enthusiastic reception accorded to Alfonso at Homburg excited the ire of the French, and so antagonistic was the exhibition of public feeling as the young King was crossing Paris alone that he informed the President of the Republic that he would recall his Ambassador at once. This prompt act brought the necessary apology, and the King of Spain subsequently attended the banquet given in his honour at the Elysée, at which the Minister of War was absent, as the President of France had asked him to send in his resignation. The news of this contretemps reached Spain, and when the Queen returned from La Granja to Madrid she was at first quite alarmed at the enthusiasm shown by the people at the station. She clasped her children to her breast, and seemed to think she was on the brink of a revolution. But her fears were soon stilled when somebody shouted: “Señora, the Spanish people are only protesting against the recent events in Paris.” The return of the King from France saw an ovation of equal enthusiasm, and, in defiance of all Court etiquette, the people pressed up the staircases and into the galleries of the palace, crying: “Viva el Rey y la Reina!” It was on Maunday Thursday, 1884, that the Court went for the last time in state to make the customary visits on foot to the chief churches of the capital. There was the usual service in the morning in the chapel of the palace, the washing of the beggars’ feet and feeding them,[21] and the solemn, imposing public procession at three o’clock in the afternoon. The streets were strewed with tan to soften the cobbled stones to the feet of the ladies, whose high-heeled velvet shoes rather impeded their walk. The streets were lined with troops, and the Plazas de Oriente, Mayor, and La Encarnacion, were respectively filled with the regiment of the Princess of Pavia and the artillery. [21] This ceremony is described on pp. 332-4. First came a mounted company of the Civil Guard; then a long line of kettle-drummers, the grooms and all the officials of the Court, all in full dress; then the six men-at-arms with their embroidered vestments, the Chamberlains, _gentiles hombres_, the grandees of Spain, the King’s military retinue, etc. Their Majesties walked between the lines of halberdiers, followed by the Patriarch of the Indias, the Ministers of the Crown, the chiefs of the palace, the Ladies-in-Waiting, and the Aides-de-Camp of the King and Queen.