The authorities, conforming to royal usage, had considered it the proper thing to prepare two distinct suites of rooms, one for the King and one for the Queen, separated by an enormous drawing-room. Great was our surprise when, on the following morning, the rumour ran through the passages of the Foreign Office that the King's bed-room had remained untenanted. Had he found it uncomfortable? Did he not like the room? Everyone began to be anxious and it was felt that the mystery must be cleared up. I therefore went to one of the officers of the royal suite, took him aside and, while talking of "other things," tried to question him as to the King's impressions: "Is His Majesty pleased with his apartments?" "Delighted." "Was there anything wrong with the heating arrangements?" "No, nothing." "Perhaps the King does not care for the bed provided for His Majesty's use? I hear it is very soft and comfortable, in addition to being historic." "Not at all, not at all; I believe His Majesty thought everything perfect." Alas, I felt that my hints were misunderstood! I must needs speak more directly. Without further circumlocution, therefore, I said: "The fact is, it appears that the King did not deign to occupy his apartment." The officer looked at me and smiled: "But the King never leaves the Queen!" he exclaimed. "With us, married couples seldom have separate rooms, unless when they are on bad terms. And that is not the case here!..." They never were parted, in fact, except at early breakfast. The King was accustomed to take _café au lait_, the Queen chocolate; the first was served in the small sitting-room, where the King, already dressed in his general's uniform, went through his letters; the second in the boudoir, where the Queen, in a pink surat dressing-gown, trimmed with lace, devoted two hours, after her toilet, every morning, to her correspondence, or to the very feminine pleasure of trying on frocks and hats. I twice again had the honour of seeing her shopping, as on a former celebrated occasion; but this time I accompanied her in the course of my professional duties. She bought no gloves, but made up for it by purchases of linen, jewels, numerous knick-knacks and toys; and one would have thought that she was buying those china dolls, with their tiny sets of tea-things, for herself, so great was the child-like joy which she showed in their selection. "This is for Yolanda; this is for Mafalda," she said, as she pointed to the objects that were to be placed on one side.