We didn’t remain till the end of the service, for on that same morning a requiem was sung in the Armenian Cathedral for the repose of the soul of General Shelkovnikoff, my husband’s predecessor. I aroused much curiosity and attention at church, where an enormous congregation had gathered. The Cathedral appeared very imposing with all the wax lights and chandeliers ablaze, and the Metropolitan looked magnificent, clad in a robe that was stiff with gold embroideries. About a hundred chanters, in black and red surplices, sang melodious hymns; from time to time choristers shook big silver disks with much noise. The loud voice of the Metropolitan was suddenly drowned by a deafening uproar above in the choirs. A loud squabble arose among the Armenian women, who protested loudly at seeing me down in the nave of the church where they were not allowed to penetrate. As soon as the service was over the Metropolitan delivered a long sermon of which we couldn’t make out a word. It proved to be an ovation in favour of the Russians, as well as a demonstration against the Turks. I fear that he will have to pay dearly for his eloquence as soon as we leave Erzeroum. After service the Metropolitan invited us to have a cup of tea. During our visit Sergy asked him the reason of the women’s screams in the choirs, and he explained to us that it was quite natural that the liberty given to European women had created an animosity between these recluses, who protested against it in that noisy way. We have spent the afternoon in paying calls in a victoria belonging to General Heimann, the only carriage in all Erzeroum. After our visit to Mme. Gilbert, we went to George Effendi, where we were received with effusive cordiality. As soon as we were seated on a low divan, Turkish coffee without sugar, and different sorts of preserves were served to us. Oriental politeness required us to take a very small quantity of jam and to drink a whole glass of water after it. When we got up to say good-bye, George Effendi threw upon my shoulder a shawl of great price that I had just admired, and his daughter undid her beautiful necklace of heavy coins and clasped it round my neck. Of course I refused both presents outright, but I was told afterwards that it was an Oriental custom to offer as a present the object just praised. I will certainly abstain from admiring anything in the future, because the natives say directly: “It is yours, take it!” and that is very embarrassing. When we got home we found an old Turk at our door who held a paper in his hand. He was robbed the previous night and came to complain to my husband. I had hardly time to take off my hat when three French sisters of mercy were announced. After that came the Persian Consul, accompanied by his interpreter. The Consul is a honey-tongued personage, who made graceful speeches to me; flattering phrases came so readily to his lips, and I did not particularly like him.