A result of this modesty of mine was made manifest to me in a very striking way, some years afterward, when Jean was nine years old.

We had recently arrived in Berlin, at the time, and had begun housekeeping in a furnished apartment.

One morning at breakfast a vast card arrived--an invitation.
To be precise, it was a command from the Emperor of Germany to come to dinner.

During several months I had encountered socially, on the Continent, men bearing lofty titles; and all this while Jean was becoming more and more impressed, and awed, and subdued, by these imposing events, for she had not been abroad before, and they were new to her--wonders out of dreamland turned into realities.

The imperial card was passed from hand to hand, around the table, and examined with interest; when it reached Jean she exhibited excitement and emotion, but for a time was quite speechless; then she said, "Why, papa, if it keeps going on like this, pretty soon there won't be anybody left for you to get acquainted with but God." It was not complimentary to think I was not acquainted in that quarter, but she was young, and the young jump to conclusions without reflection.
Necessarily, I did myself the honor to obey the command of the Emperor Wilhelm II.