"Who ordered them?" I asked.
"M'sieur must be aware that a gentleman secured his rooms a week ago?"
"No, I did not know that arrangements had been made for my reception," I
said.
"Will m'sieur have the kindness to sign the register before ascending?"
he said, politely handing me a book and pen.
Those who have not travelled in the dominions of the Czar know nothing
of the strict police regulations, the many formalities the foreigner has
to undergo, and the questions he must answer before he is allowed to
take up even a temporary residence in the Venice of the North.
I wrote replies to the printed questions in the book, and, signing my
name, handed it back to him, and was shown to my rooms.
Though anxious to complete my mission and return, I confess I found much
of interest. St Petersburg externally is the finest city in the world,
but internally the dirtiest and most enthralled, struggling as it does
under a police _regime_ so harsh that one can scarcely walk the streets
without infringing some law, and attracting the attention of the spies,
who everywhere abound.
I remained waiting several days for the appearance of the man to whom I
was to deliver the diamonds, but he did not present himself, so I
occupied myself inspecting the sights of the city. Through the churches
of Kazan, St Nicholas, and the Intercession I wandered, astounded at
their magnificence; saw a comedy at the Bolshoi, admired the statues of
Peter the Great and Souvaroff, and, perhaps the greatest novelty of all,
visited that most magnificent of imperial residences, the Winter Palace.
Here occurred an incident of which at the time I thought nothing, though
afterwards I had much cause to remember it.
Following one of the gorgeously attired servants through a labyrinth of
picture galleries and apartments, we entered the Salle Blanche, the most
luxurious chamber of this splendid palace, with its wonderful
decorations of white and gold, from which it derives its name. In this
chamber are held those court fetes which eclipse all others in the
world, for it is here the nobility assemble to pay homage to the
Autocrat of all the Russias.
Standing in the centre of the apartment, I gazed in wonderment upon its
marvellous gilding and glittering magnificence, while the servant
described graphically, but parrot-like, how the receptions were
conducted, the blazing of the priceless jewels worn by the Empress, and
how the Emperor himself, the most quietly dressed amongst the gay
assemblage, walked and talked with his guests.
The whiteness of the walls I was unable to understand, and being of a
somewhat inquisitive nature, and desirous of ascertaining whether they
were marble or wood-panel, I rapped upon it sharply with my knuckles.
In an instant a sentry, who had been standing motionless at the door,
and several servants in the Imperial livery, were at my side.
"For what reason did you tap that wall?" demanded one of the men in
French.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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