, standing
in an enclosure which shut them off from the rather unattractive town
and overlooking the Dneiper. The practice at meals was for the party
to assemble in the antechamber; the Emperor would then come in from
his private apartments, would go round the circle speaking a few words
to some of those present, and would then lead the way into the
dining-room. There, after we had partaken of the national "zakuska"
preceded by a nip of vodka, he presided, sitting in the centre of the
long table with General Pau, the senior foreign officer, generally on
his right, and one of the other foreign officers taken by rote, or
else a visitor, on his left. I understood that General Alexeieff had
excused himself from these somewhat protracted repasts, on the ground
that he really had not the time to devote to them; but one or two
others of the Headquarters Staff were generally present, besides the
Household. After the meal the Emperor would talk for a short time to
some of those present in the antechamber, and would then retire to his
own apartments while we of the foreign missions made our way back to
our hotel.

I was presented to him while he was making his round before dinner on
the first night. That clicking of heels business is highly effective
on such occasions, but it is a perilous practice when you are adorned
with hunting spurs; they have protuberances which have a way of
catching. There is no getting over it--to find, when conversing with
an Emperor, that your feet have become locked together and that if you
stir you will topple forward into his arms, does place you at a
disadvantage. An even worse experience once befell me when on the
staff at Devonport a good many years ago. Our general liked a certain
amount of ceremonial to take place before the troops marched back to
barracks of a Sunday after the parade service at the garrison church;
a staff officer collected the reports and reported to another staff
officer, who reported to a bigger staff officer, and so on; there was
any amount of saluting and of reassuring prattle before the general
was at last made aware that everything was all right. One Sunday it
was my turn to collect the reports and to report to the D.A.A.G. In
those days cocked hats had (and they probably still have) a ridiculous
scrap of ribbed gold-wire lace of prehensile tendencies at their
fore-end--at their prow, so to speak. While exchanging intimate
confidences with the D.A.A.G., the prows of ou