At last we were in this dear Empress’s bedroom, the abode which shelters for such a considerable number of hours of every twenty-four the most powerful woman in Asia.  We looked eagerly.  At one side of the room was a large bed, beautifully adorned with embroidered hangings; ranged round there was a profusion of handsome carved-wood furniture, with European chairs upholstered in a style out of keeping with the rest; on a high stand there were jewelled clocks noisily ticking; and hidden modestly in one corner was nothing less than a magnificent silver pot de chambre.  She was here evidently very much at her ease, the dear old lady.  That little detail delighted me.  The rest was rather banal.

Sans ceremonie, I seated myself on the Imperial bed—­it seemed to be the most peaceful act of vandalism I could commit in repayment for certain discomforts occasioned by this old lady’s whims during eight weeks of rifle-fire.  And as my recollections went back to those terrible days, I came down heavily as I could on this august couch.  I must confess that as a bed it was excellent; the old lady must have slept well through it all, while she caused us our ceaseless vigil....

This solitude in the most secluded of spots in the whole Palace made us more and more inquisitive, and soon K——­ and myself were hard at work, rummaging every likely hiding-place.

Our escort watched our antics and said nothing.  It made an odd enough little scene that, and I liked to think of its incongruity—­we two sets of men, who had not known of each other’s existence an hour ago, now absolutely alone in this retreat, from whence the siege had been largely directed.

K——­ continued rummaging, making an extraordinary amount of noise, and exclaiming to himself now and again as he came across trifles which interested him.  Then I discovered a compote, or preserve made of rose-leaves, which was so sweet and fragrant that we began promptly eating.  There were also Russian cigarettes, au bonheur des dames, yet quite fit to smoke, and then just as we were becoming reasonably content, K——­ gave a tremendous oath and brought out something in his hand.  Then I knew that he was lost—­that there would be speedy complications; it was a Louis XV. painted watch—­his greatest weakness.  Peking is full of these watches, some genuine enough and many spurious.  They were made the vogue centuries ago by the clever Jesuit priests, when the first disciples of Loyola to come to China were playing for kingly stakes in the capital of Cathay, and were not ashamed to use any means which the ingenuity might discover to delight the Manchu rulers of that day.  Many of the most beautiful watches in France, with amorous paintings of the most voluptuous kind decorating the inside case, were brought to Peking and distributed among the high and mighty.  That set up a fashion for such pretty things; more and more were brought, until Peking became a storehouse, stocked with this specialty.  Everyone even to-day has an example or two of this art, if they can afford it.