At that season of the year we lost the sun about four thirty in the afternoon, and it was getting quite dark as we approached the Ataman’s residence. We were halted by the sentry, and on explaining our mission, were admitted to the hall. Here we were met by officers of the Ataman’s personal staff, and after the usual bowing, and heel-clicking, left our furs, and were ushered into a large drawing-room. The room was richly and tastefully furnished. The high-posted walls were hung with splendid tapestries, and the floor beautifully carpeted. There were a few pieces of black furniture, which appeared to be of the ornately-carven Chinese variety. The whole effect was more oriental than Cossack, though of course the real Cossack is probably more oriental than anything else. And, in fact, I had heard that Semenoff was more of a Mongolian than a Cossack, being according to report, a Prince of Van. The only place of which I know named Van is in European Turkey, though there may be a Van in Mongolia. The Ataman entered, on crutches. I saw a stockily-built man, of medium height, wearing Prussian blue trousers rather small at the bottoms of the legs, suggestive of being habitually worn with boots. He had on slippers. His face was heavily-jowled, very dark, his chin chubbily-protuberant in the Rubens style. He wore heavy drooping black mustaches, his black eyes keen and somewhat suspicious, his hair suggestive of scantness on top, and a Napoleonic lock down over his low, broad forehead. His photographs were always made so as to bring out his Napoleonic points, which I had heard he prided himself upon. He was credited with carrying a book in his pocket which told how Napoleon acted in every situation which required a decision, and that when he had to decide anything, he first consulted the book. Evidently my visit brought up no point which required a Napoleonic decision--at least, I did not see him consult the book while I was there. I was bowed to a chair, and the Ataman let himself down gently on a couch. He seemed a trifle worried, but he may have been oppressed by pain. He had only recently induced the banks of Chita to loan him several million rubles to pay off his army--and a local banker had called on me that day. After we had talked a little, and I had told the Ataman that I had heard of his ability as an organizer and leader of armies, and of his prowess in battle, he appeared relieved, and pulled the lock on his forehead down a bit more. The lady who presided over his Chita household came in. The slight view I took of her as I rose and bowed, leaves me no recollections. Even had I desired to be courteous to a woman in her position, discretion counselled as little notice as possible.