As I was standing watching the Royal pair, I was approached by two Bulgarian officials in civil clothes followed by a handful of soldiers. Their mission was to inquire my reason for coming to Nish. The one who addressed me spoke German execrably. At first he took me for a Teuton, but when I explained my nationality he asked eagerly if I were able to speak French, and seemed much delighted when he found he could continue his interrogations in that tongue, which he spoke much better than German. I told him the object of my journey, flattered his patriotic feelings by complimenting the Bulgarian Army and nation as a whole, and was invited to accompany him to one of the rooms of the station, where he introduced me to the Chief of the Bulgarian Press Bureau, M. Romakoff. I seemed to have made a good impression on the two Bulgarian officials. They babbled away in their native tongue to M. Romakoff, but, of course, I could not understand what they were saying, but the upshot of the conversation was that I was addressed by the Chief of the Press Bureau, and asked if I would like on behalf of the neutral press to attend the Royal Banquet, which was to be given that evening. It would be simple but historic. I trembled with excitement and joy when I thought of the sensation that my account of the banquet would make when it reached England. If M. Romakoff could have read my thoughts it would not have been the banquet alone about which I trembled, but my own execution; fortunately he was not psychic. The Director walked with me up and down the platform and showed himself extremely friendly. I gathered that I should be one of four journalists in the room, and I hugged myself at the thought of the surprise of the august company when they realised that in their midst was the representative of a hated English newspaper. I spent the intervening time between my arrival at Nish and the hour of the banquet in walking about the town with two members of the Bulgarian Press Bureau, who spoke excellent French. I had no idea what impression they gleaned as to my personality. I must be a clever actor to have disguised my excitement into even reasonable coherence. But a few weeks previously Nish had been gaily decorated with the flags of the Entente Allies, who were expected to come to the help of poor, suffering Serbia; yet the town seemed already to have settled down to a comparatively contented existence. Very little damage had been done to any of the buildings, as far as I could discover. I was assured that business had not been so brisk during the whole of the history of the town. German soldiers were spending their money freely, and nearly all the larger houses of the town had been turned into hospitals, whose supplies were being gathered from the surrounding country.