Four days after his arrival, the princess, or queen, as she termed herself, of Mingrelia, came to Sipias to visit our traveller, attracted by the rumours of his wealth, as vultures are attracted by the scent of a carcass. Her majesty was followed by a train of eight women and ten men, to all of whom a decent suit of clothes and a tolerable beast to ride on would have been a welcome present, for they were very badly mounted and meanly clad. In order to ward off, as far as possible, the dangerous reputation of being rich, which is elsewhere so much coveted, our travellers endeavoured to pass for Capuchin friars, and pretended that the baggage with which their vehicles were loaded consisted entirely of books. The princess believed neither of these stories. Being informed that Chardin understood Turkish and Persian, she tormented him, by means of a slave who could speak the former language, with a thousand questions, of which the greater number turned upon the subject of love. After pushing these questions beyond the verge of decency, to the great amusement of her suite, who appeared to be more delighted in proportion as her majesty became more obscene, she suddenly turned to a still more embarrassing topic—demanding to examine the effects of our traveller, and the stores of the monks. They all now trembled for their property. Whatever she should have seen would have been lost. To allay her cupidity, therefore, and at least put off the evil day, the principal monk humbly informed her that the usual present should be sent on the morrow, accompanied by another from the travellers. With this assurance she appeared to be satisfied, and departed.