M. Kemal's. "Ah no," said he, "you must not decide without seeing both."
Being always afraid of air-raids, the Greek sovereign had taken an underground suite, certainly arranged with great taste and every attention to creature comfort. Lit and heated by electricity, the arrangements closely resembled a German trench. M. Kemal Pasha had slept on the first, or top, floor, and as I like to think, under my white satin covering, worked with irises. It was a proud moment for our host—that I should occupy a bed already honoured by M. Kemal!
I told him how at Gerbervilliers Sœur Julie once let me sleep in a bed previously occupied by Cardinal X., and even conferred on me the supreme honour of using his Eminence's sheet! That "last touch," said my host, he, "unfortunately, could not repeat. The Pasha's sheets!—well, they were not here."
We soon sat down with the Governor, the Mayor, and other "notables," to a well-cooked meal of Turkish delicacies, supervised by our host himself. My only criticism of Turkish dishes is based on their "fattening" qualities, and the pleasure in flavours which tempt one to over-eat.
More "notables" appeared for an afternoon reception, in strange and picturesque costumes: Deputies, hodjas, and judges. How I longed to borrow that judge's saxe-blue silk robe for a dressing-gown; but, knowing that he would "give" me anything for which I expressed a fancy, my honour sternly forbade the request! Everyone had left their shoes on the mat, and sat in their stockinged feet. My muddy boots were a disgrace.
They all talked Nationalism,overjoyed by the recent victories and, I cannot deny, bitter against Great Britain.
I was invited to a big "Nationalist" meeting, to be held that night at the Young Men's Club, and was only too glad to have the chance of answering the questions I knew they would want to put. It is always wise to encourage our critics to air their grievances.
We were conducted up a rickety staircase to a
