But it was worse still when, about the middle of the meal, the sovereign, suddenly interrupting his conversation with Her Imperial Highness, rose without a word, disappeared and returned in five minutes to resume his place with a smile, after the court minister had taken care to announce aloud that "His Majesty had had to leave the room."
The grand-duchess, as may be imagined, retained an unforgettable memory of this lunch, the more so as the Shah, perhaps in order to wipe out any unpleasant impression that might linger in her mind, did a very gallant thing; the next day, the Princess Vladimir received a bale of Persian carpets of inestimable value, accompanied by a letter from the grand vizier begging her, in the name of his sovereign, to accept this present, His Majesty having declared that he would not allow other feet to tread carpets on which Her Imperial Highness's had rested.
I, less fortunate than the grand-duchess, never, alas, succeeded in obtaining possession of the one and only carpet which Muzaffr-ed-Din had deigned—quite spontaneously—to offer me.
"My ministers will see that you get it," he said.
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.