Having exchanged greetings, L. declared with the utmost French parliamentary courtesy that he was delighted about the very recent signing of the Franco-Soviet pact, which, he said, was not directed against any particular country. S. replied: ‘What do you mean? It is absolutely directed against one particular country – Germany.’

L. was somewhat astonished, but he immediately tried to right himself and, with the same charming courtesy, expressed his pleasure at S.’s frankness. Only real friends could speak to one another like that.

Then S. asked him: ‘You’re just back from Poland. What is happening there?’ In reply, L. fell into lengthy, polite and ornate explanations about how, despite pro-German attitudes remaining strong in Poland, there are signs of improvement that will eventually lead to a change in Polish policy, etc. S. interrupted L., declaring tersely, ‘To my mind, there are no signs at all!’ Then he added: ‘You are a friend of the Poles, so try to persuade them that they are playing a game that will bring disaster on themselves. The Germans will trick them and sell them short. They will involve Poland in some adventure and when she weakens, they will either seize her or share her with another power.

Maisky’s diary is a vital source for the meeting. Perhaps this clairvoyant comment, suggesting a possible deal between Germany and the Soviet Union at Poland’s expense, has prevented the Russians from declassifying the official report of the meeting.

Is that what the Poles need?’ L. was again shocked by S.’s directness and frankness.

Referring in the course of their conversation to the power and influence of the Catholic Church, L. asked S. whether reconciliation could not be sought between the USSR and the pope,

Pope Pius XI, 1922–39.

perhaps by concluding a pact with the Vatican… S. smiled and said: ‘A pact? A pact with the pope? No, that won’t happen! We conclude pacts only with those who have armies, and the Roman pope, as far as I know, does not have an army.’

L. tried to touch on the question of debts and plunged into protracted discourse about the importance of liquidating old claims for the sake of political rapprochement. S. interrupted L., saying: ‘I don’t advise raising this issue.’ In answer to L.’s query as to why he did not recommend it, S. said: ‘For two reasons. One reason is minor: nobody pays his debts today – France does not pay either. The second is a major one: we have counterclaims against you.’ L. brightened up and said that it would be an excellent thing to reckon up reciprocal claims, delegate experts from both sides, etc. But S. interrupted him again and said: ‘I don’t recommend doing it. Ours will be a heavy debt. It will include the cost of bloodshed, and the people’s blood is an expensive item. I don’t advise settling old claims.’ L. had nothing to do but accept the fact.

At M.M.’s reception, Laval met Comrade Chernov,

Mikhail Aleksandrovich Chernov, a former Menshevik, was people’s commissar for agriculture, 1934–37. He and his family were arrested in 1937 and shot.

people’s commissar for agriculture, and talked about farming with him. He asked, among other things, how we determine whether or not a cow is a milker, and whether or not its milk is fatty. Chernov began explaining to him in a lengthy and scientific manner what methods and instruments are used for this. L. listened to him for a while and exclaimed: ‘That’s all wrong! In France we have a simple and reliable method. Stick your finger in the cow’s ear – a lot of earwax means a lot of milk, and a lot of good milk.’ Chernov flung up his arms: ‘You must be joking. In our collective farms, they wash cows’ ears to remove earwax.’ L. also flung up his arms and exclaimed: ‘You poor farmers! You will never have milk!’

Joking and showing off, L. then asked: ‘Will you hire me to work in a collective farm when the revolution occurs in France?’ Chernov replied: ‘That depends on the milkmaids – only if they approve of you!’ Laval laughed and quipped with a sly wink: ‘Well, if it all depends on milkmaids, I’m sure to get a job.’ Alphand (the French ambassador in Moscow), who was standing alongside Laval, added in jest: ‘Even if the milkmaids accept you, you’ll fail the exam in political science.’ Returning home, L. admonished Alphand for his joke, finding it inappropriate and tactless.