I sat less than fifteen yards away from the Royal pair, and I had every chance of observing closely each change in expression or smile that flitted across their countenances. Now as I look back on the scene I see the Kaiser, not only perpetually coughing, but also looking so tired that I wonder afresh what great purpose it was that brought him from a sick-bed in Berlin to a little Serbian town with its dim petroleum lamps. It must have been something unusually important that caused him to accept the Little Czar’s invitation to travel for two days to be a guest at a dinner of forty covers. Whatever the Kaiser’s sufferings he was obviously endeavouring to be as pleasant as possible. Everything I remember in connection with the Banquet confirms me in my impression that the War Lord was deliberately intent, not only on impressing King Ferdinand, but the members of his entourage as well, otherwise he could never have tolerated the air of equality which the Coburger adopted towards him. The Kaiser is by nature intolerant of patronage or condescension on the part even of his equals, much less would he view unmoved that of an inferior unless he had some deliberate purpose in view. He looked a pathetic figure as he sat coughing, as though his throat were choked with some virulent, irritating substance, and it must have cost him a great effort to smile repeatedly as Ferdinand leaned across and whispered something in his ear. I found myself speculating as to what was passing through the Kaiser’s brain as he saw the yellow face, with its cunning little slits of eyes--eyes that reminded me of a typical money-lender--of his vain-glorious neighbour bent upon him. Try as he will, Ferdinand of Bulgaria can never disguise the suggestion of craftiness that is stamped upon his features. Those little eyes of his seem to be the windows of a very dark soul, and behind that pepper and salt-bearded face, with the great hawk-like nose, there is a very cunning brain at work. From the fact that the Kaiser ate and drank practically nothing at the Banquet I was led to believe the story that he always eats before attending these State functions. Of course, it might have been that he was afraid of his throat. Certainly monarch never did less justice to an admirably-cooked meal. He did not even take wine. On the other hand, Ferdinand ate of each and all the dishes with great appetite, sipping his special brand of white wine with evident relish. Of all the company he seemed best pleased with himself, and when I noticed him studying the menu, it occurred to me that his vanity was flattered by seeing at the top his own Royal Cypher; it was his, Ferdinand of Bulgaria’s Banquet, and the All-Highest had journeyed for two long days and nights in order to be present. I was glad that the Bulgar King was in a good humour, because when he smiles the grossness of his features is less obvious. The contrast between the Emperor and King was most marked, however, when they stood up.