At a concert given in the apartments of the Empress Josephine, Asker-Khan, whom the music evidently did not entertain very highly, at first applauded by ecstatic gestures and rolling his eyes in admiration, until at last nature overcame politeness, and the ambassador fell sound asleep.  His Excellency’s position was not the best for sleeping, however, as he was standing with his back against the wall, with his feet braced against a sofa on which a lady was seated.  It occurred to some of the officers of the palace that it would be a good joke to take away suddenly this point of support, which they accomplished with all ease by simply beginning a conversation with the lady on the sofa, who rising suddenly, the seat slipped over the floor; his Excellency’s feet followed this movement, and the ambassador, suddenly deprived of the weight which had balanced him, extended his length on the floor.  On this rude awakening, he tried to stop himself in his fall by clutching at his neighbors, the furniture, and the curtains, uttering at the same time frightful screams.  The officers who had played this cruel joke upon him begged him, with the most ridiculously serious air, to place himself on a stationary chair in order to avoid the recurrence of such an accident; while the lady who had been made the accomplice in this practical joke, with much difficulty stifled her laughter, and his Excellency was consumed with an anger which he could express only in looks and gestures.

Another adventure of Asker-Khan’s was long a subject of conversation, and furnished much amusement.  Having felt unwell for several days, he thought that French medicine might cure him more quickly than Persian; so he sent for M. Bourdois, a most skillful physician whose name he well knew, having taken care to acquaint himself with all our celebrities of every kind.  The ambassador’s orders were promptly executed; but by a singular mistake it was not Dr. Bourdois who was requested to visit Asker-Khan, but the president of the Court of Accounts, M. Marbois, who was much astonished at the honor the Persian ambassador did him, not being able to comprehend what connection there could be between them.  Nevertheless, he repaired promptly to Asker-Khan, who could scarcely believe that the severe costume of the president of the Court of Accounts was that of a physician.  No sooner had M. Marbois entered than the ambassador held out his hand and stuck out his tongue, regarding him very attentively.  M. Marbois was a little surprised at this welcome; but thinking it was doubtless the Oriental manner of saluting magistrates, he bowed profoundly, and timidly pressed the hand presented to him, and he was in this respectful position when four of the servants of the ambassador brought a vessel with unequivocal signs.  M. Marbois recognized the use of it with a surprise and indignation that could not be expressed, and drew back angrily, inquiring what all this meant.  Hearing himself called doctor, “What!” cried he, “M. le Docteur!”—­ “Why; yes; le Docteur Bourdois!” M. Marbois was enlightened.  The similarity between the sound of his name and that of the doctor had exposed him to this disagreeable visit.