Viewing page 76 of 117

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

-172-

and walked, looking at the Romanesque, Gothic and Renaissance architecture, along with surviving traces of the Turks and Moors. We promenaded along Andrassy Avenue and the parks, reading inscriptions on the bronze statues of the Hungarian kings. We saw the royal palace, said to hold 860 rooms, and the Coronation Church where the last monarch of the vanished Austro-Hungarian Empire, Franz Joseph, was crowned. In memory, Budapest is a montage of views of the Danube, the sound of violins, and the rich, heady taste of Takay, the topaz-colored Hungarian wine. Sitting on the edge of our beds in the Dunapalota Hotel, Helen and I often ended the day with a glass or two of Tokay. Wonderful memories.

For a brief hour or two in the Dunapalota ("Ancien Hotel Ritz," the stationary said), we thought we were indeed femmes fatales. We had almost finished dinner one night and were watching the dancing in the dining room when the maitre d'hotel came to our table. "Mes dames," he said, "two gentlemen have asked me to say they would like very much to