yond them all, in
distinction, nobility, wisdom was our own Ambassador. This is no place
for a record of the discretion and tact and forbearance that he had
shown during those last two years. To him had fallen perhaps the most
difficult work of all in the war. It might seem that on broad grounds
the Allies had failed with Russia, but the end was not yet, and in years
to come, when England reaps unexpected fruit from her Russian alliance,
let her remember to whom she owed it. No one could see him there that
night without realising that there stood before Russia, as England's
representative, not only a great courtier and statesman, but a great
gentleman, who had bonds of courage and endurance that linked him to the
meanest soldier there.

I have emphasised this because he gave the note to the whole meeting.
Again and again one's eyes came back to him and always that high brow,
that unflinching carriage of the head, the nobility and breeding of
every movement gave one reassurance and courage. One's own troubles
seemed small beside that example, and the tangled morality of that vexed
time seemed to be tested by a simpler and higher standard.

It was altogether a strange affair. At first it lacked interest, some
member of the Italian Embassy spoke, I think, and then some one from
Serbia. The audience was apathetic. All those bodies, so tightly wedged
together that arms and legs were held in an iron vice, stayed
motionless, and once and again there would be a short burst of applause
or a sibilant whisper, but it would be something mechanical and
uninspired. I could see one soldier, in the front row behind the
barrier, a stout fellow with a face of supreme good humour, down whose
forehead the sweat began to trickle; he was patient for a while, then he
tried to raise his hand. He could not move without sending a ripple down
the whole front line. Heads were turned indignantly in his direction. He
submitted; then the sweat trickled into his eyes. He made a superhuman
effort and half raised his arm; the crowd pushed again and his arm fell.
His face wore an expression of ludicrous despair....

The hall got hotter and hotter. Soldiers seemed to be still pressing in
at the back. The Italian gentleman screamed and waved his arms, but the
faces turned up to his were blank and amiably expressionless.

"It is indeed terribly hot," said Uncle Ivan.

Then came a sailor from the Black Sea Fleet who had made himself famous
during these