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I CALL ON STURMER
439
summoned to G.H.Q., and it was probably this that was
making him dreamy.
Although we were seeing very few people, my
impressions of Petrograd were frankly unfavourable
ones. Our offensive was dying down. The Guard and
the army corps which had started the attack on Kovel so
well were sinking into the Volhynian marshes, and their
forces were reduced by more than a third. In town
every one appeared more then ever to be tired of the
war; they were dozing. One evening when, from the
window, I was admiring the extensive view of the quays,
of the Neva and the sky, already autumnal and lit up
by the soft tints of sunset, a very young friend who
was at my side said: "Are you looking, as I am, to
see if a Zeppelin is not coming over Petrograd ? That
would really do some good! that might wake up all
these people here and restore some of their
patriotism." "Alas!" I replied, "you are voicing a feeling
of which I cannot rid myself since I have been in
Petrograd!"
The day before our departure for Stockholm, I at
last made up my mind to call on the new Minister for
Foreign Affairs. I was received in the big office where
I had seen M. de Giers, Prince Lobanoff, Count
Lamsdorf and others seated, where I had talked
at great length with Sazonoff five months previously.
I saw in their place an individual with a common
face and manners which were completely at variance
with the surroundings. Everything about him was
sham, one felt it in his every word, in his every
movement. Sham simplicity, sham good-nature, sham
courtesy, sham dignity. We had known his white
hair as red ; his backbone now stiff and straight had
formerly been servilely bent. I felt that he was
worried by ^his new role—which spoke rather in
his favour, and by my presence—which spoke decidedly
in mine. Nevertheless, my antipathy was in no way
lessened thereby. He gave me no information relative
to Swedish affairs, pleading his inexperience in the
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