Closely though these two princesses resemble each other in the admirable filial affection which they showed their mother, they are entirely different in disposition. Whereas the elder, who is generally known as the Princess Christian, is always ready to talk to those about her, Princess Beatrice, the younger, is comparatively silent and almost self-contained, but without the least affectation on her part: in fact, I have seldom met a princess more simple in her habits or more easy of access to poor folk. This contrast in their attitude towards life comes, I think, from a difference in their temperaments and tastes. The Princess Christian has inherited the homely virtues of the German princesses: she interests herself mainly in philanthropic and social questions. The Princess Henry, on the contrary, feels a marked attraction for literature and the arts, which she cultivates with a real talent; and, like all those who are endowed with an active brain, she loves to isolate herself from the outside world. I must say that I never knew the Princess Christian as well as I did her sister, for the very good reason that she did not accompany Queen Victoria to France as often as the Princess Henry. Her arrival at Nice was usually later than that of the Queen and she very seldom remained until the end of Her Majesty's stay. I remember, however, that, one year, they returned to England together; and, in this connexion, I can tell a story which goes to show how keenly alive the great of this earth can sometimes be to the smallest attentions paid them. The royal train, which had left Nice in the morning, pulled up, at five o'clock in the afternoon, as usual, at a little country station between Avignon and Tarascon, in order to enable the Queen to take her tea without being inconvenienced by the jolting of the wheels. Seeing me pacing the platform, the Princess Christian stepped out and walked up and down beside me. In the course of our conversation, she began to talk about her children: "When I think," she said, with a certain melancholy, "that my daughter Victoria will be thirty years old to-morrow--for to-morrow is her birthday! How time flies!" Princess Victoria was also one of the travelling-party. As soon, therefore, as the Princess Christian had left me, I scribbled a telegram to the special commissary at Caen, in Normandy, where we were to stop for a few minutes, on the following day, on our way to Cherbourg, and told him to order a bouquet and hand it to me as the train passed through. The next morning, when we entered the station at Caen, I found my bouquet awaiting me: a modest spray consisting of all the rustic flowers of the fields which my worthy commissary had had gathered in the morning dew. I at once presented it to Princess Victoria, wishing her many happy returns of her birthday; and I cannot say which of the four of us--the Queen, the two princesses or I--was most touched by the loving gratitude which they all three expressed to me.