I ate so many excellent _hors d’œuvres_, thinking I was never going to eat again, and that nothing else was coming, that I had little room left for what followed. It was a joy even to look at a fresh salad and a cauliflower. Our old manservant was awfully happy. He had on a collar and tie and was washed, and had organised everything beautifully. He had got out the Sèvres salt-cellars, and the cut-glass decanters, and I suppose he just felt that he was back in the old pre-Revolution days and serving his master’s friends. He took intense pride in it all. We had our jokes with him as he went by. Handing me a dish of _bœuf à la mode_, he said: “_Magnifique!_” Litvinoff was reprimanded by him for using his knife for his vegetables, and was told that he would not get another. When the apple dumplings came round I was done. I said to the old man: “_Zafter_” (to-morrow). I do hope we shall get some remains. I asked Litvinoff where all the food had come from. He explained to me that there is some food to be had, but that the best is sent to the hospitals and the children. Then followed speeches. Anything more deplorable to listen to without understanding than Russian being translated into Chinese and _vice versâ_ is hard to imagine. Tchicherin spoke for quite a long time. The Chinese General’s face was immovable. After the Professor had translated, the General replied with much the same sort of face. After dinner we adjourned to the Karahans’ big rooms opposite. Tchicherin was evidently embarrassed at meeting me again. I had no feeling on the subject, and merely laughed. I said jokingly, “Comrade Tchicherin, you have treated me very badly.” He was again quite flustered. Litvinoff told me à propos of Tchicherin that he had advised him to get someone extra into his office to help to get his papers straight. Tchicherin agreed, and said that he had already heard of a young man who would do very well because “he works during the day, so that he is free at night.” Litvinoff asked when the man should sleep; Tchicherin looked surprised, he had forgotten about that. NOVEMBER 2ND. Felt ill. Symptoms of abdominal typhus. Panic on the part of my friends. They say they do not want to lay my body under the Kremlin wall. If they do, I have told them I don’t mind speeches, but I would like a prayer. The answer to that was: “Are you really _croyante_?” “Well,” I said, “there are two children praying every night that I may return safe and soon, and the thought of that gives me a certain security.” “What, you teach your children to pray?” “But surely they must have something to guide them as they start life?” “You should teach them reality, and not fantasy.” “It is not fantasy to believe in a Divine power.” “You should believe only in your own power.”