many guests, only thirty; but what a select company! The Imperial family, the Grand Dukes, the little dukes and archdukes—all the dukes, in short, of all calibres. All this tra-la-la of princes and princesses, curious and attentive, never took their eyes off me for a moment, watching my every movement, every smile, and listening to every word I spoke. You must not think I was embarrassed; not the least in the world! My self-possession never forsook me for a moment until the middle of the repast, which, by the way, was very good; but everyone seemed more occupied with watching me than eating their dinner. At that moment the "toasts" in my honour began, and the scene that took place was a most extraordinary one. The young archdukes, to get a better view of me, rose, mounted on their chairs, and even put their feet upon the table—I was going to say into the plates! No one seemed astonished. Evidently there is still a great deal of the savage in the princes of this country. They shouted, cried "Bravo!" and called upon me to recite something. To reply to toasts by a tragic tirade was, indeed, strange; but I was equal to the occasion. I rose, pushed back my chair, assumed the most tragic air of my repertory, and rushed into the great scene In Phèdre. A death-like silence came over the company: you could have heard a fly, were there any in this country. They all listened religiously, bent forward towards me with gestures of profound admiration. Then, when I had come to an end, there was a fresh outbreak of cries of "Bravo!" clink of glasses and renewed toasts, to such an extent that I remained a moment quite overcome. Soon, however, the excitement took possession of me, the fumes of the wine, the scent of the flowers, all this enthusiasm, which certainly flattered my vanity, got into my head. I again rose, and began to sing, or rather declaim, the Russian National Hymn. On this it was no longer enthusiasm, but frenzy. They crowded round me, they pressed my hands, they thanked me. I was the greatest tragedian of all times past and future. Thus they went on for a good quarter of an hour.
But the best things come to an end at last; the hour struck when I must take my leave. I accomplished this with the same queenly dignity as when I arrived, conducted to the great staircase by the same Grand Duke, who, although gallant and attentive, never forgot his punctilious politeness. Then appeared the splendid powdered footmen, one of whom carried my cloak; I put it on and was escorted by them to my carriage, which was surrounded by other footmen carrying torches to light me on my way.
She wrote to her mother describing her benefit a few days later, telling her it was impossible to count
