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 there were coals of fire on them. We soon reached the ball-room, where an aristocratic crowd was awaiting the entrance of the Emperor, and we had a chance to exercise our patience for some time.

"Have you seen the King of Adrianople?" Nicolas asked me.

"Whom do you mean?"

"That young fellow who is talking with Madame Kirovieff," he returned. "That is he."

"But why do you call him the King of Adrianople?"

"It is a name he got in the army. Have you not heard the story?"

I confessed my ignorance, and Nicolas related the following anecdote:—

"Last year, when General Gourko's army was lying about Adrianople, after the tedious passage of the Balkans, there was a certain officer, not above the rank of a captain, who demanded permission of his commander to enter Adrianople with his company. The Turks were about to evacuate the city, and the Russians intended to enter the next morning; but this gentleman said he was tired of sleeping out in the wet, and he wished to go into the town, get a good supper, and make himself comfortable for the night. The desired permission was given in a half-contemptuous way, and many were the laughs raised at the expense of the young officer, who expected to drive away eight or ten thousand Turks with only one hundred men.

"Just after nightfall the last detachment of the Turkish army was at the railway station, making preparations