arrival one of
them brought in a jar of rose-water, with which he sprinkled my hands;
then the tallest, whose name was Davich Kahn, gave me a sitting. I did
him standing, with his hand on his dagger. He threw himself into such
an easy, natural position of his own accord that I did not make him
change it. I let the paint dry in another room, and began on the
portrait of the old ambassador, whom I represented seated with his son
next to him. The father especially had a magnificent head. Both were
clad in flowing robes of white muslin worked with golden flowers, and
these robes, a sort of long tunic with wide, upturned sleeves, were
held in place by gorgeous belts.

Mme. de Bonneuil, to whom I had spoken of my artistic sittings, very
much wanted to see these ambassadors. They invited us both to dinner,
and we accepted from sheer curiosity. Upon entering the dining-room we
were rather surprised to see that the dinner was served on the floor,
which obliged us to assume an attitude that was very much like lying
down, following the example of our Oriental hosts. They helped us with
their hands to the contents of the dishes. In one of these was a
fricassee of sheep's feet with white sauce, highly spiced, and in
another some indescribable hash. Our meal was not exactly pleasant;
it was rather too much of a shock to us to see those brown hands used
as spoons. The ambassadors had brought a young man with them who spoke
a little French. During my sittings Mme. de Bonneuil taught him to
sing a popular ditty. When we went to make our farewells the young man
recited his song, and expressed his regret in parting from us by
adding: "Ah! my heart! how it weepeth!" which I found very Oriental
and very well put.

[Illustration: MARIE ANTOINETTE, DONE IN 1779

Mme. Lebrun's First Portrait of the Queen, Destined for Presentation
to the Emperor Joseph II. Marie Antoinette Ordered Two Copies, One for
the Emperor of Russia and One for Herself.]

When Davich Kahn's portrait was dry I sent for it, but he had hidden
it behind his bed and would not give it up, asserting that the picture
still needed a soul. I could only obtain my painting by employing
strategy. When the ambassador could not find it he put the
responsibility on his valet, and threatened to kill him. The
interpreter had all the trouble in the world to explain that it was
not the custom to kill one's valet in Paris, and informed him,
moreover, that the King of France had asked fo