[Gutenberg 45786] • Their Majesties as I Knew Them / Personal Reminiscences of the Kings and Queens of Europe

Their Majesties as I Knew Them - Personal Reminiscences of the Kings and Queens of Europe by Xavier Paoli

It was in 1903, and the King of England was making his first official journey in France since succeeding Queen Victoria on the throne of Great Britain. In the court of the British Embassy in Paris, where the sovereign had taken up his residence, a group of journalists, pencil and notebook in hand, was crowding importunate, full of questions, around a vivacious little gentleman, very precisely dressed in black, wearing the red rosette of the Legion of Honour in the buttonhole of his silk-faced frock coat. An impressive silk hat, slightly tipped, sheltered a head of abundant wavy white hair, strikingly in contrast with the man's still youthful appearance; at the utmost he seemed to be hardly fifty years old.

His aristocratic bearing might have been that of a diplomat of the Empire or a Tuscan aristocrat. The sensitive features of his finely oval face—the straight, delicately formed nose, the piercing eyes, now bright with shrewd humour, now soft with gentle sympathy—all spoke the judicial mind, the penetrating observation, which could scrutinise the most secret thoughts, recognise the slightest shades of feeling.

Calmly, manfully, smilingly, with courtesy, the little gentleman sustained the assault of the reporters and warded off their indiscreet curiosity.

"What did the King say to M. Loubet?"

"Gentlemen, the King has told me none of his secrets."

"Did he not come for the purpose of completing a treaty of military alliance with us, and is he not to have this evening an important interview with the Minister of Foreign Affairs?"

"His Majesty had a very comfortable journey, is in the best of spirits, and appears to be delighted to be in Paris."

"But—"

"His Majesty brought with him his little griffon dog, and immediately on arriving he asked for port wine and sandwiches."

"I beg—"

"I may even say that the King will go to hear Sarah Bernhardt this evening, and that at the present moment he is busy with his secretary looking over the voluminous mail which has just arrived from London. In fact—"

"Pardon me—is it true that yesterday you arrested some suspected anarchists?"

"Anarchists? What are they?" And with these words the little gentleman still smiling turned away, to the discomfiture of the journalists, while certain English and French officers who, full of excitement, were crossing the great court, saluted him with courteous deference.

This little gentleman, whom I then saw for the first time, was M. Xavier Paoli.