The festivities at the palace were going on all this time. There was a great dinner, attended by the high court officials, the ministers of the empire, and the ladies belonging to the court. Toasts were drunk, while the guns of the fortress fired an accompaniment, and a concert was given in the dining-hall by the best musicians in Petersburg.
The ball—if it can be called a ball when the imperial family did all the dancing—was held in St. George's Hall, at half-past eight.
We passed through long corridors filled with richly dressed gentlemen, and through an immense room, full of windows, columns, and officers. There was a narrow way in the centre, down which we went, seeing various familiar faces among the surrounding uniforms, and, traversing another corridor, came to the door of the ball-room. The number of invitations was limited, including only a few of those who were present at the wedding. No officer under the rank of a colonel was allowed in the ball-room.
Opposite the door by which we entered was the throne, and over our heads was the orchestra. The throne was covered with red brocade, with a canopy over it of the same. The ceiling of the room was arched and painted.
The dresses were the same which had been worn in the morning; only those who were fortunate enough to possess more than one court-train had changed, and among this number were all of the grand duchesses.
The chamberlains and gentlemen of the chamber
