I entered one of them and for a moment I seemed to have gone suddenly back to Berlin. German officers in uniform, other German people talking loudly in front of huge glasses of beer, and a little orchestra of Tsiganes playing Viennese tunes made my illusion almost complete. The waiters were, of course, German, and the so-called artists, of uncertain nationality, sang only German and Turkish songs. A _gommeuse_ risked a little Parisian refrain, but her voice was drowned by the public hissing and shouting. The public began to sing patriotic songs, and the girl only won her way back to public grace by dancing a sort of furious cake-walk which seemed to please her audience immensely. This number was followed by the great attraction of the programme--a "revue," as it was pompously announced on the posters. The story of the play was highly symbolic; a young lady in feathers and a three-coloured scarf (France) and her protector (Russia) tried to rob a respectable gentleman and his wife (Germany and Austria). A struggle began, accompanied by lyric, which must have been highly amusing and patriotic, as everybody clapped and laughed, while in the background a Scotsman made a terrible noise, but kept away from the fight. An Alma, with a fez on her black wig, rose at this moment from a pile of cushions among which she had been lying while indulging in a quiet smoke. At the sight of her Russia dropped to the floor, France did the same, England flew away into the wings, and the three victorious nations danced a sort of jig on a special _pot-pourri_ arranged from the music of the three national anthems. This most idiotic pantomime was so highly appreciated that it was completely repeated. At the conclusion the girl who played France achieved a great personal success by coming out draped in the German flag--to show that she was only impersonating France for stage necessities, and that she was actually of true German feelings. The few Turks amongst the audience clapped enthusiastically, and, in contravention of the Koran's laws, drank large glasses of beer, probably in honour of their masters and protectors. Outside the night was full of stars, and at the eastern side of the quiet Bosphorus a group of luminous spots showed the position of the fleet going back into the Black Sea. One by one the lights disappeared, hidden from sight by the thick woods of Therapia. * * * _November 5th._ The news that the Sultan is to review a large detachment of troops leaving for the front, on the enormous drilling ground on the hill of Pancaldi, fetches me out of bed very early this morning. When I reach the grounds a large convoy of troops tells me that the Sultan must be coming. Numerous Zapties (Turkish _gendarmes_) are pushing the crowd aside on the pavement. Now the Sultan arrives in a closed coach preceded and followed by a number of other Zapties on horseback.