When the day for his departure for Persia drew near, I thought that it would be wise to ask the court minister for my carpet in my most respectful manner. "Oh," he replied, "does it belong to you? The only thing is that it has been packed up, by mistake, with the others. If you want it, they can give it to you in the train." As I was to accompany our guest as far as the German frontier, I waited until we had left Vichy and discreetly repeated my request at the first stop. "Certainly," said the minister, "you shall have it at the next station." I was beginning to feel uneasy. At the following stopping-place, there was no sign of a carpet. We were approaching the frontier, where my mission ended. I, therefore, resolved to apply to the minister of public-works. "Your excellency." "Your carpet?" he broke in. "Quite right, my dear M. Paoli. The orders have been given and you shall have it when you leave us at the other station." But here again, alas, nothing! And, as I complained to a third excellency of this strange piece of neglect: "It's an omission. Come with us as far as Strassburg, where you will receive satisfaction." At this rate, they would have carried me, by easy stages, to Teheran. I, therefore, gave up all hopes of my carpet. And, taking leave of these amiable functionaries, I heard the good Shah's voice crying in the distance: "Good-bye, Paoli, worthy Paoli! Till our next meeting!" * * * * * I never saw him again. IV THE TSAR NICHOLAS II AND THE TSARITSA ALEXANDRA FEODOROVNA [Illustration: THE EMPEROR AND EMPRESS OF RUSSIA AND THE GRAND DUKE ALEXIS] 1. One morning in June, 1901, I had just reached the Ministry of the Interior and was entering my office, when a messenger came up to me and said, solemnly: "The Prime Minister would like to speak to you at once, sir." When a public official is sent for by his chief,[1] the first thought that flashes across his brain is that of disgrace, and he instinctively makes a rapid and silent examination of conscience to quiet his anxious mind, unless, indeed, he only ends by alarming it. Nevertheless, I admit that when I received this message, I took it philosophically. The Prime Minister, at that time, was M. Waldeck-Rousseau. It is not my business here to pass judgment on the politician; and I have retained a most pleasant recollection of the man. To attractions more purely intellectual he added a certain cordiality. He looked upon events and upon life itself from the point of view of a more or less disillusioned dilettante; and this made him at once satirical, indulgent and obliging. He honoured me with a kindly friendship, notwithstanding the fact that he used to reproach me, in his jesting way, with becoming too much of a reactionary from my contact with the monarchs of Europe and that I once took his breath away by telling him that I had dined with the Empress Eugénie at Cap Martin.