Of course, Monsieur Norbert Henrot remembered Charles Haughey. The former Taoiseach came to the Hotel Meurice soon after M Henrot became a director in 1989. "There was something about him - his bearing, his charisma. He was very dignified. He made an impression."

M Henrot said Mr Haughey stayed at the Meurice four or five times during the 1989 to 1991 period, never for more than a night or two, and always on official business. The Irish Embassy - with which the Meurice has a long-standing relationship - always booked a single room for him. But as a courtesy, the hotel gave him a suite overlooking the Tuileries Gardens and the Louvre, as itdoes for every Irish head of State or government.

Unlike some of their Irish guests, Mr Haughey was not talkative. "We greeted him with the respect you show a prime minister. I accompanied him to his rooms. He was polite but reserved. He had a small entourage and was not demanding; we had to make no special arrangements for him."

Bearing, charisma, reserve. These were doubtless the same traits that impressed the Charvet shop assistants who used to fawn over the man they addressed as Excellency and Monsieur le Premier Ministre. It takes a lot of self-assurance not to feel intimidated in the tiny, money-oozing enclave of central right-bank Paris that runs from the Meurice to the Place Vendome to the rue du Faubourg St Honore. And self-assurance was something that Charlie had in buckets.

M Henrot was shocked to hear of the Ansbacher accounts, the money for Brian Lenihan's liver operation, the £15,832 in party funds spent two blocks away on Charvet shirts - no doubt when Mr Haughey was staying at the Meurice.

"I'm really surprised," he kept saying, shaking his head in the makeshift office he occupies while the Meurice is refurbished. (It was purchased by the Sultan of Brunei two years ago and will reopen next April.) "We've had Saudi princesses who had half the Faubourg St Honore delivered to the hotel. We've had American officials who took three floors of the hotel for their security. Mr Haughey really wasn't any trouble. I thought he represented his country very well."

That impression was shared by some of the diplomats who dealt with Mr Haughey on his visits abroad as Taoiseach. One Irish official used almost the same terms - "magnificent representative", "a real statesman", "his bearing" - as M Henrot.

And the civil servants were, like M Henrot, incredulous at learning of his financial misadventures. That Mr Haughey kept his private and official visits to Paris completely separate is also consistent with the image given by diplomats. "When he wanted private time, he had it," a Dublin source said. "He kept his personal life very personal. That story in The Irish Times about his shirt shopping expedition - he did that to impress the political correspondents. He did it openly."

If, for example, Mr Haughey was visiting Paris with his mistress Terry Keane, he did not stay at the Meurice and does not appear to have arranged trips through Embassy channels.

But Mr Haughey's reserve could turn to cold fury when he was dissatisfied. "If Charlie Haughey was in town, everybody would be very much on his toes," one source said. "His style would demand formality. He was a sort of scary character; he could reduce civil servants to tears." One Ambassador serving in Europe - not in Paris - is said to have been totally crushed by him. "When he asked you a question, you had to know the answer. If you didn't, he humiliated you," a different source recalled. The former Taoiseach never called diplomats by their first names, but beckoned them, English public school style, by their family name only.

THE last time Mr Haughey stayed at the Meurice was in January 1996, when he came to Paris for Francois Mitterrand's funeral, along with John Bruton and Garret FitzGerald. Although they were from different political backgrounds, Haughey and Mitterrand were friends; the president once spent a day on the former Taoiseach's island.

Several Irish sources said they saw a strong resemblance between the two politicians: the secret mistress, the murky financial arrangements; above all, a total lack of scruples. They shared a belief that they were above the law, a conviction in their own superiority and a rare ability to manipulate and mislead others.

Mr Mitterrand had the telephones of his enemies - and even women he fancied - tapped. He interfered with the justice system and his entourage was riddled with financial scandal. The French public discovered the existence of his illegitimate daughter when she was almost 20 years old. There were questions about Mitterrand's friendship with the second World War Vichy French police chief Rene Bousquet - and about his motives for accepting a medal from Marechal Petain.

Yet Francois Mitterrand somehow managed to ride the crest of the tidal wave until his death from cancer, dying a loved and respected statesman. It was only after his death that the deluge of revelations and scorn came.

Monsieur Haughey was not so lucky.