Dinners were given occasionally, and were always very formal and very long--really banquets--made up of a succession of rich dishes with a small glass of red or white wine with every course. The placing of guests at table was an extremely important matter, for every one must be seated strictly according to rank. One does not wonder that there were so few dinners, considering the difficulty of finding a group of congenial people who could dine together without dissatisfaction. Each was likely to think that he should have been given a higher place, and to go home feeling insulted instead of happy. The favourite subjects among the women were children and the rainy weather; aside from gossip there was talk of little else. The men had no objection to sitting in silence, and were inclined to consider women who talked as chatterboxes. But for all that, they were very charming and high-bred and delightful to meet. I should judge the Belgian sense of humour was not like ours. Many of them had a Latin wit, but as a race they were rather serious and conventional. They seemed to consider it bad form to have what we call a good time; all their entertainments were formal and dignified. There was much in their character that was delightfully mediæval. People in the highest position socially would say with perfect simplicity things that sounded very strange to our ears. A man of high rank and intelligence explained to me one day that the reason why the Belgians slept with their windows closed was that the early morning air was bad for the eyes! He was quite serious about it and seemed to think the excuse sufficient. I believe some of them still imagined that our country had not reached even the first stages of civilization. A little gentlewoman whom I had engaged through a friend to act as secretary courtesied very prettily on being presented, but wasn't at all sure whether we were South Americans or not, and inquired rather anxiously whether I had ever before been away from my native land. She thought that I should always be accompanied when out walking. I once asked an American lady who had married a Belgian what her adopted countrymen thought of Americans. She laughed and told me what happened when her husband took her home to his château as a bride, many years before. All the peasants and tradespeople of the village had turned out to greet them, and while they were evidently pleased, something in her appearance seemed to surprise them. Finally her husband asked some one if there was anything the matter. Very politely the man explained that since they had heard that their new countess came from America, they had all expected her to be black. The Count paused a moment, glancing at his wife, who was not only very beautiful but very blonde, and then answered gravely, "Oh, but you must not forget--it is winter now. My wife, she only turns black in summer!"