Chapter 10. METAMORPHOSES OF THE BAYUDERSParis, 1914 Now I often visit the editor-in-chief of the influential newspaper The Journal du Midi, Paul Olivier, in his office. “I am forced to do this because he rarely appears in my mansion in Neuilly. And, in the end, I did not give myself to him so that he would leave me. He is interesting to me as a man, and his technique, comparable to the courage of the heroic lovers from the novels of Bourget and Prevost, brought me to the heights of pleasure. In addition, I believe that he likes to talk with me, although he talks too much about his voluptuous emotions - more than about mine. I try to find out about political events, diplomatic statements and what politicians say. It seems he does not completely trust me. I pretend that I am very interested in his news service. My foreign friend explained to me how important such information is to him. Paul promised to introduce me to his colleagues, among them the famous, well-informed L. from Le Figaro. This time I have to be a real artwork. It is important to bind these men tightly to yourself. These days I will need a lot of information. Bern, 1915. The German ambassador told me: “What we lack is smart and intelligent women, real friends with exceptional talents and an impeccable reputation who want to help us in Paris to end these horrors of war. But we have no one, and we do not want to die under the onslaught of the enemies of the Reich. You are very talented — you have a special influence on important men. You want peace too, right? In your power to save many families from mourning, grief and tears, help us end these massacres! ”

Strange: he did not mention financial remuneration, but only appealed to the heart of a woman. Bern, a few days later, My financial capabilities are “completely exhausted, but this time, I fear, more than ever.

Again I was invited to dinner by the ambassador. He said: “You have to live in the most expensive hotels in Madrid, Ams-Terdam and Rome. All that you hear will be very useful to us. Visit the embassies, for this you can always find a pretext.

You're so beautiful! And besides, my dear (he went on a whisper), you will receive a generous reward. ” So, I was not mistaken. He also said: "Good - excuse me for this word - a spy is worth at least 50 thousand soldiers."

I was interested in this offer because I had a chance to meet real heroes. And those people really need rest. How nice it will be to make a bed with a battle-hardened warrior! The ambassador again assured me that I was the only woman who could seduce French military and political figures and extract secrets from them.

Of course, I was flattered by the very idea that my kisses would help to conquer entire territories, but I doubted whether they would be hot enough to unleash my tongue from hardened warriors.

“There are many young officers with high ranks - a protégé of ministers ready to do anything to be noticed by such a beautiful woman like you,” he said.

I remember that on the morning of the announcement of the war I had breakfast with the police commissioner of Berlin - we met the night before. German newspapers wrote that I appeared on the stage completely naked, that it was a sensation, etc. And this high-ranking police officer wanted to make sure of this - in my dressing room ... I protested, but he said with a cynical smile that is his duty. Then we became good friends, and I had no reason to regret what I had done. How easy it was to tame this man after he was in bed with me. And I liked being the love of such an important person. I am convinced that uniforms have a special meaning for me. Perhaps this is fate, after all, my first man, my husband, was in the war. And indeed, men who are not associated with the ar-mea do not interest me so much.In my eyes, an officer is a special creature, a supreme being, he lives a life of a hero and always carries a weapon, ready for any adventure and any danger. I consider the military a special, you-kind man. The officers, well trained and accustomed to the hardships of wartime, are much better than anyone else, willing to endure the strain that is required from a man during a night of love ...

In any case, I am more or less cosmopolitan, I feel at home in Berlin, and in Rome, and in Vienna, and in London. A uniform is a uniform, although it looks different. After all, I am a citizen of a neutral country. And the money also does not have citizenship, they can be spent in any currency ... Barcelona, ​​1916. I am glad that by nature I am very careful. If I had published a list of my lovers, I’m sure that a terrible scandal would break out. Sometimes I am amused by turning them over in my mind. Are there not two portraits of the ruling monarchs with endorsements in my boudoir in Paris? And the imperial prince? I have a different predisposition towards Ambassador Graf P., and sometimes it seems to me that I am in love with the French ambassador to England. I worry when I think that the French Minister of War (he wrote to me that I was the only true love in all his life) revealed his passion for me in the same place where the German police commissioner did. And even the Prime Minister of the Netherlands was a welcome guest in my little boudoir, in the same place where the Russian Grand Duke was tempted. My friend K. (the head of the German intelligence service) is too important to mention him here ... In the end, it’s not by coincidence that we have two communicating rooms in a hotel. Aachen, 1916. The party completely exhausted me. I can only compare it with a sleepless night on a train with a charming partner and benches that are too narrow to work on them together. I had the first meeting with His Highness, the heir to the throne of a powerful empire. Of course, now I look at it completely differently than before. From the pictures in the newspapers and magazines, I knew only a lean, lanky man, and I was put on by his immutable cavalry boots. High dark room in the hotel - and this is the imperial apartments! And His Majesty is no less magnificent, but very gloomy. I am sure that he wore only half of the orders in order not to impress me too much. What is waiting for this strong man from a dancer of my size? How clumsy is a man who has everything he wants, whose simple desire is an order, but is not able to fulfill the act of love! At first, I tried to flirt with him. I would have pleased the Maharajah, I would have forced the most bloody dictator in the world to smile, and this stone-faced idol was absolutely indifferent to my courtesies. Not even champagne helped. I had to humiliate myself and pretend to be a prostitute, use strong words and vulgar gestures, which turned out to be quite effective.

Voluptuous nights spent with the boys, finally, made him open up.

“Well, my sweetheart,” His Highness squeaked, “I'm sure you know the value of your manners.” Just keep in mind that I do not like these idiotic little things. I prefer any kind of nonsense to such a round, honest ass. Look, all I want is to have some fun. And all these ballerinas are not able to understand such a simple fact!

The physical behavior of the imperial gentleman was much weaker than his strong expressions, and, besides, his high boots were an obstacle as difficult to overcome as excessively fast fatigue in bed. After a while, His Highness gave up and started another idea.

- Let me whine you a little according to your ... uh-uh ... groin. (In his elegant white hand he held a small whip). No, not too much, I just want to touch your ... uh-uh ... n ... This worries me more than when I slash my ass.

I gave up because it was very important for me to like this distinguished man. I thought about my friend, how pleased he would be. I also thought that if I managed to get important information, the reward would be generous.

- Aaa, yes ... like this ... beautiful, hold them apart ... oh, those thighs, they are so seductive ... spread them wider ... you have a charming n ... I have to smack her ... you are do you feel anything? It's not so bad ... just keep your legs higher ... higher ... but I can't get to your n ... so be it, don't move ... don't worry ... oh! She is so beautiful, your hair is ... wait ... wait, do not hurry, I'm almost in the mood, now I want to work on your ass ... and tits ...

This game lasted a lot of time. The whip whistled, but in my whole life I have never been beaten so painlessly. It was an impressive sight to observe the heir to a great, all-powerful dynasty, the last branch of a gigantic genealogical tree, the pitiful remnant of a world-famous aristocratic family, whose members for centuries instilled fear in the hearts of many generations. It was strange to observe the degeneration of instincts of a frantic and strong ruler into such impotent children's fun ...

A sudden turn showed me that even weakened instincts are able to back up. I lay with my eyes closed and waited patiently for these non-modeling games to end. Suddenly my eminent partner muttered:

- He does not want to stand ... please, be good, shout at me ... call me with dirty words ... perhaps a hundred, now it's your turn to whip me ... order me to stand on your knees before you ... lick your feet ... to heal your n ... Treat me like a dog ...

When I returned to my hotel, it seemed to me that I had an incredibly wild dream. The only thing that confirmed what had happened was a small leather box, given to me by an adjutant before leaving. When I opened it, it contained a luxurious brooch with sparkling diamonds, from which the initials of my unlucky partner were laid out. Much less valuable were the secrets that I fished from my high-ranking partner. The absurd commander of a powerful army simply did not know anything important ... Paris, 1917. It is not very reasonable to keep a diary in these dangerous times. I was convinced that many people no longer trust me, I am afraid that they are following me. But I want to write my last statement. I want to write down the following to justify my actions. Yes, I always felt lust for men ... As a woman I was attracted - and the war allowed me to fully enjoy this passion - young and active officers; passionate, lustful men who went to their death and tried to forget this terrible reality during too short vacations. I was excited by the art of confusing with my kisses, and I came almost into ecstasy when I managed to extract the carefully guarded secrets from them thanks to my body. But I also wanted to triumph over famous personalities, to tempt graying diplomats and warriors, whose actions determined the fate of entire nations. Rather, I wanted to test my strength, my art of seduction on these husbands. And once I grabbed the largest pre-bychu ... a senior spy service. I'm afraid someday someone will find out about this connection, and then I cannot escape death. Who knows... Chapter 10 note This concludes Mata Hari's diary. The next two chapters, prepared by the American author, Mark Alexander Alexander’s translator, include excerpts from official documents and eyewitness accounts of the trial of Ma-t Hari and her execution.