Another order that evening was, that there was to be no ceremony as to going in to supper. We were to go as we pleased and with whom we pleased. Precedence was abolished for the night. We danced in the white drawing-room; towards midnight the heavy folding doors were thrown open, and in what had been the great ball-room of a few nights before was laid out quite the most artistically perfect banquet that could be imagined—once more the Jins of the “Arabian Nights” had been at work. In the great hall and the _jardin d’hiver_ were thirty-five supper-tables, each to hold ten guests, each dressed round an orange tree in full fruit. The illumination, with the usual fabulous number of candles, was resplendent. It was an entrancing sight. As we went in everybody uttered a little exclamation of surprise! “Mon Dieu! que c’est joli!” “Mais c’est ravissant!” “Oui,” said Georges Du Luart, “c’est positivement féerique!” “Ah!” said the Duc d’Osuna, in his Spanish French, “n’est-ce pas que c’est zoli! C’est l’uniforme du réziment que zé commande.” The good Duke, who was rather deaf, had taken all the enthusiasm as a well-merited tribute to his own personal appearance. Du Luart, now (1915) the Marquis du Luart, one of the greatest authorities in France on sport and _vénerie_, and I had arranged to sit together; but somehow we got separated and had to take our chance of places. After wandering about I found myself at a table where I knew no one, but as usual, the other guests were most kind and amiable in their welcome to the stranger. The gentleman next me began asking me all manner of questions about England and English people; it turned out that he had known my father, Charles Greville (of the memoirs), and his brother Henry, Lord Granville, and many other people whom I knew well. He was Monsieur Jean Tolstoy, Postmaster-General, a member of the Cabinet, and a personal friend of the Emperor. Our acquaintance did not end there; for he took many opportunities of showing me civilities during the remainder of my stay in Russia. It was a curious accident, for I do not suppose that there was another Russian in the crowd who knew my father. During the whole time that the supper lasted the Emperor kept walking round the different tables, with a kindly word of welcome for many of his guests, and anxious to see that all were well served. There was not a speck of condescension about him; just the anxiety and care of a most courteous host. The Emperor Alexander was certainly one of the greatest gentlemen that I ever saw in any rank of life.