came with Princess Cecilie to see my aunt. He was a fat boy of about fourteen at the time and full of every conceivable mischief. One of his greatest jokes was to leap with both feet into the middle of a mud puddle so as to splash the Princess and my cousin from head to foot!
My aunt remarked to him once in front of me that he seemed to be very fond of his cousin— Princess Cecilie—upon which he blushed to the roots of his hair and exclaimed "Moi, je n'aime personne!"
The following year Princess Cecilie married the German Crown Prince and three weeks after she sent a telegram to my cousin Olga—they have corresponded for years—saying: "Je suis très heureuse." I wonder if she is still of the same opinion!
Now, she has become the mother of a large family, and quite "German" I am told.
She had been brought up very severely by her mother, as is so often the way with parents who are not over-particular concerning their own mode of living.
Grand Duke of Mecklenburg-Schwerin, seemingly unconscious of the charms of his beautiful Villa Wenden at Cannes, of the perfume of the lovely roses and all the other exquisite flowers of his garden, was perhaps preoccupied in another direction of life, which must have been full of heavy storm clouds for him, so heavy indeed that he felt unable to bear them and one day threw himself over the parapet of the bridge
