The ceremony was opened by a little old man in green, the _Nakib ül Eshraf_, whose business it is to keep the pedigrees of the descendants of the Prophet. He appeared from behind one of the crystal candelabra, bowed low in front of majesty, made a deep _temenna_, stepped backward, and offered a prayer. The Sultan and all the other Moslems present listened to it with their hands held up in front of them, palms inward. Then the first chamberlain of the court, holding a red velvet scarf fringed with gold, took his place at the left of the throne, the band in the north gallery—and a very good one—began to play, and the _baise-main_ commenced. It was not a literal _baise-main_. I suppose the Sultan could hardly be expected to hold out his hand long enough for several hundred people to kiss. It was a _baise-écharpe_ rather, as the Grand Vizier was the first to prove. He made the _temenna_—or salaamed, as we put it in English—stepped in front of the Sultan and salaamed a second time, kissed the chamberlain’s scarf and touched it to his forehead, salaamed a third time, and backed to his place. Hilmi Pasha was followed by his colleagues in order. When the last of them had paid homage, the chamberlain passed behind the throne to the right, and it was the turn of parliament. The senators, for most of whom the _baise-main_ was no novelty, followed the example of the cabinet. But when it came to the deputies, they emphasised a new order of things by merely saluting, without kissing the scarf. To their speaker, the ex-exile Ahmed Riza Bey, the Sultan paid the honour of offering his hand. Ahmed Riza Bey started to kiss it, but the Sultan prevented him, at the same time drawing him forward past the throne and giving him a place at the left beyond the Grand Vizier.