At the turning of an avenue, I caught sight of Alexander Ypsilanti. Five years had gone by since our parting at St. Petersburg, when he was only an ensign in the regiment of the ‘Chevaliers Gardes,’ and now he was a major-general, covered with well-earned orders, but minus an arm lost at the battle of Bautzen. We strolled away from the crowd, the better to enjoy the pleasure of our re-union. His good fortune had not changed the qualities of his heart, ever open to noble feelings and ever responsive to the words ‘friendship’ and ‘country.’ He was the son of the Hospodar of Moldavia and Wallachia.[50] His father, overthrown by one of those palace revolutions so frequent in Turkey, was obliged to fly. Alexander, who was only sixteen, placed himself at the head of a troop of Arnauts of eight hundred men, escorted his father across the Carpathian mountains, and saved his life when escaping from the eunuchs of the seraglio. He came to seek refuge in Russia. Educated and brought up under the care and through the generosity of Emperor Alexander, the young prince entered his service, and in a short time opened a brilliant career for himself. His generous disposition, his bold and enterprising mind, his open character strongly appealed to me, and we became close friends. As a matter of course, we wished to prolong the pleasure of this, practically our first meeting after many years, so we went to dine at the tavern named the ‘Empress of Austria.’ This was the usual resort of most of the strangers who were not on the budget of the Court or who wished to avoid the etiquette almost inseparable from its hospitality. This gathering, almost unnoticed at first, became soon afterwards a kind of debating centre, and had, if not a voice in the deliberations of the Congress, at any rate, a certain importance. We took our seats at a table, already occupied by at least a score of diners belonging to various nations. In spite of the difference of interest and of position in a country distant from their own, strangers were most eager to associate with each other: generals, diplomatists, and simple travellers were mingled together at this impromptu banquet. Some were ordnance officers of the sovereigns that had come to shear; others, advocates of those who were being shorn. The first part of the repast was, as usual, rather serious; people were taking stock of each other, and the music of an excellent band made up for the lack of conversation. They all seemed bent upon a diplomatic reserve.