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A DIPLOMAT'S DIARY
In Crown 8vo, boards.
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME.
SECRETS OF A PRIVATE ENQUIRY
OFFICE. By Mrs. George Corbett.
A MATTER OF MILLIONS. By Anna
Katharine Green.
STORIES OF SCOTLAND YARD, as told by
Inspector Moser, and recorded by Charles
F. Rideal.
CAN SUCH THINGS BE? or, the Weird of
the Beresfords. By Keith Fleming.
THE FORSAKEN INN. By Anna Katha-
rine Green.
A
DIPLOMAT'S DIARY
by
JUL I EN GORDON
london
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, Limited
Broadway, Ludgate Hill
GLASGOW, MANCHESTER, AND NEW YORK
1890
LONDON :
PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER,
70 TO 76, LONG ACRE.
A DIPLOMAT'S DIARY.
December 30.—Would God I had never seen
the Princesse Flavie, or Madame Harnay, that
miserable sycophant, as cruel and wicked a
counsellor to her royal mistress as she has been
a false friend to me and others! Was ever a
rat caught in such a hole ! What! I am in
bad odour at court, and with the Empress ;
must decamp for the nonce because a silly
woman and a base one have . . .
Well, they fancied, did they, that they could
so dispose of me, so encompass and trap me ?
Did they think that because I am a bluff,
honest, outspoken sort of fellow, and loyal to
my sovereign, I could be taken in such a
broken net ? There were too many holes in it,
6
A Diplomat's Diary.
mesdames, and you forgot that a grizzled
diplomat who has learned the arts of
dissembling and of strategy soon recognizes
and fathoms such jejune manoeuvres.
* Here I am sent off on this fool's errand
in the depth of what promises to be a
Siberian winter, so that a broken heart shall
have time to mend itself and a ripple of
idle gossip to subside. It is absurd!
What a twinkle there was in the old
man's eyes, to be sure, when he bade me
farewell! " This mission is a delicate one,"
he said, " but a man who can extricate himself
from the hands of his enemies as you did at
S. can beard the Czar in his den, Narishkine
et, Cie! Only to you would I entrust this
secret trust." Beloved old man ! He pressed
my hand warmly.
"■ Va, tn es un brave gargon I " he said.
"Brave?" Yes, brave, as the world goes
here! Brave to prefer my own name and my
own laurels, my own modest fortune and
A Diplomat's Diary. 7
selfwon honours, to the slavery of a hateful
union the titles won by a low compact and
the illstarred gains of a wealth wrung from
the foolish affection of an hysteric girl.
Bah ! And to say I did hesitate one moment!
There is the blemish on my 'scutcheon! The
one weakness I blush for to-night under my
cap, in the stuffy wagon of this dirty train,
which is puffing me away towards the haven
where I would not be.
Yes, I was tired. I, strong, self-nurtured,
self-reliant I, hesitated a moment. What was
it for ? The girl ? The illustrious connection ?
The hunting-grounds in the Hartz Mountains ?
Leisure and indolence ? The . . . booty ?
No! Ten thousand times no!
What was it, then, that made me chicken-
hearted for an hour ? Tired, old man, tired !
I remember that an ancient sage said, " Go
not thou to meet thy fate; it is seeking thee,"
or words to that effect (I was never an apt
quoter), and I told myself this was the
8 A Diplomat's Diary.
shibboleth, and that the Princesse Flavie was
my fate, and Madame Harnay its messenger.
Not an angel one, surely !
Bon ! Here we stop ; the Russian opposite
snorts as loudly as the engine, and, waking
up, asks me to give him a light for his cigarette.
I light my own, and I look out, through
the dim smoke on the little wayside station.
People are getting out hurriedly to take a
train for Breslau. A splendid couple are
walking up and down, both hugely tall and
wrapped in furs. The lady 'has weary blue
eyes, which are effective. They are followed
by "smart" servants, as the English say. I
think they must be themselves English or
perhaps Russian. They are unknown to me.
The lady is chic in a big, grand way ; not like
a Parisian. The man looks like an officer.
There ! they have vanished into the waiting-
room, and I shall see them no more forevei.
My neighbour, the Russian, wishes to talk
My thoughts not being agreeable, I am not
A Diplomat's Diary. 9
averse to listening. He tells me his name is
Paul Pantchoulitzew. He gives me his card,
and I find he is a gentilhomme de la chambre de
S. M. VEmpereur de Russie, a title somewhat
vague, and which, I believe, is conferred on
nobody in particular for no particular motive.
He looks like my brother Marc. He is
rather an elegant fellow, which goes without
saying, as he resembles a member of my
family.
Well, " Marc" tells me he is forty, and is
going to Riga to be married. I do not tell
him that I am forty-two, and am going to
Petersburg to avoid marriage. It would
sound flat.
I covertly observe him, and catch a crooked
reflection of myself in a cracked mirror
opposite. The comparison favours me. I look
younger than he. Yes, there is no doubt of
it. This is a consolation for all the vexations
of the past, and the indignation that chokes
me when I think that I am to be doomed to
io A Diplomats Diary.
pass the next six months in a country I abhor.
It is something to look younger than one
really is, and is as pleasing to Antony as it
would be to Cleopatra, for, look at it as boldly
as we will, face it as courageously as we may,
age is tragic. It means "get out of the way !"
Faites place aux jeune.s. It means the retired
list, respectability and inanition.
I wonder whether it was the first signs of
decadence that made me hesitate a moment
when the Princesse's hand was offered to me!
Probably. It is an agreeable fact to remember,
however, that I could not, when I was a
boy officer of twenty, have repudiated the
thought with hotter violence, and that the
lassitude of will came after maturer considera-
tion. The fires, it seems, still smoulder. I
sigh, and ask. myself to what purpose.
December 31.—Here we are at the Russian
frontier! We are at once pounced upon by a
set of barbarians. Queer-looking guards, in
wide light clothes, with pompons on their
A Diplomat's Diary. 11
heads, surround us. They want our passports.
I hail Gustav, who emerges with dishevelled
hair and limp uniform, his nose redder and
crookeder than usual. ' Gustav says his
nose was peppered with shot in the war,
but if its symmetry was marred in the conflicts
of battle or of love, certainly it is not
ornamental.
I am cross, and find fault with him ; and he
searches wildly for my passport in the depths
of a mysterious valise from which he never
parts for an instant. He mutters that that
idiot August must have made away with it.
Here August, my orderly, appears on the
scene, frais et dispos, with his curled blonde
moustache, and his white hands. He finds
the passport, with indignant sang froid, on the
top of my dressing-case, and scorns to answer
Gustav's sneers. All the time he is smiling at
the slender maiden who is peddling nothing
less innocent than chay and little cakes, and
making eyes at my pretty man-servant, She
12 A Diplomat's Diary.
evidently looks upon me and "Marc" as upon
excellent, respectable, middle-aged men of
doubtful charm. Ah, youth ! Youth, beauti-
ful, inconstant: how soon thou spreadest thy
wings!
Strange, that vanity, which Flavie's passion
for me might have roused in a less philoso-
phical mind, has not been awakened within
me!" No, not a breath !
My papers require only a glance. My per-
sonal recommendation to His Majesty from
His Majesty lay me open to much boct-licking
and obsequious courtesy. My boxes are hardly
unlocked, while the other passengers wring
their hands and cry in vain over their emptied
trunks, duly rummaged by official fingers.
A lady in a long cafe an lait cloak, lined
with white fur, and with a white fur cap on
her blonde red hair, has just walked through
the station. She is rather4a picturesque figure,
albeit her costume is too showy. How few
women have attractive backs! There is an
A Diplomat*s Diary.
13
eloquence in a woman's back. This woman's
shoulders are not satisfying ; they are arti-
ficial. I remember the back of a certain
Greek goddess in the Hermitage Sculpture
Galleries. It is several years since I saw it
during that hurried passage through Peters-
burg on my way to Bucharest, and yet I recall
distinctly its strong and reposeful beauty. I
must go to have another look at it some
afternoon when I can rest an hour from my
cares of state. Thank God I have the knack
of speed, and in the afternoons I shall have
time, to study art.
I remember how happy I was in Venice
seven years ago, how I revelled in its glories.
Men, intrigues, political and social, the arts
of war and of government, personal ambitions,
all fell from me, and even you, mesdames, had
no share or parcel in my reveries. I should
like to die in Venice ! A woman would have
spoilt it all. They always do! And now . . .
to sleep.
14 A Diplomat's Diary.
January 1.—I look out upon the stretches
of lonely steppes. Not the real steppes, they
tell me, but they are real enough for the
foreigner. It is cold, and I light my cigarette,
and puff smoke against the window, that the
warmth may loosen the light film of frost
upon the pane. So ... I gaze upon a dim
white-world. Here and there low-lying ham-
lets, huts huddled together pathetically in the
greyness of the early dawn, as if for mutual
support and warmth, their tan-coloured roofs
the one bit of colour against the sombre sky.
Rarely, very rarely, sledges drawn by horses,
some driven by moujiks, and others by their
women, move slowly across the waste. The
men wear sheepskin coats girt in about their
sturdy waists, and boots made of the same
hardy material. The women are sexless bun-
dies, dressed like the men, only wearing dingy
kerchiefs instead of sheepskin caps upon their
uncombed hair. They all look stolid and
stupid, but kindly, when they are near enough
A Diplomat's Diary. 15
to the track upon which we stand for us to
catch a sight of their upturned faces.
Monsieur Pantchoulitzew, or " Marc," as I
call him, does not care to look out. He has
kept on his sleeping-cap, and seems restless.
He looks at his watch and says " Katorichas ? "
to the conductor, and finds we are behind
time. Evidently he is, or thinks himself, in
love. He shows me a photograph of his fiancee.
She looks like some one—wait! Yes, it is
like little Jeanne Overbeck. How odd in this
world that every one reminds us of somebody
else !
I once read an essay, by an American philo-
sopher, I think, translated in one of our peri-
odicals ; it deplored this fact that everything
and every one reminded us of something else.
The author thought this most undesirable.
He advocated self-reliance, and the avoiding
of imitation. He said we were now-a-days
only parlour soldiers. I don't know much else
of this author, but one sentence clings to my
16 A Diplomat's Diary.
remembrance : it was about " the magnetism
of originality." " Even impure and trivial
actions are illumined by this science-baffling
star, if the least mark of independence
appears."
I hate all the Americans I ever have met,
but this man certainly had some ideas. To
be sure I have seen only a few American
demoiselles and their colourless mothers at
Baden, Hombourg, and Spa. The girls were
not colourless, but something like pretty, scent-
less flowers, and lacking the ezvige weiblichkeit.
The husbands and fathers were always in
America, just embarked or embarking. I
fancy that they are better than their women,
if they had only the time to be known. The
United States is a curious phenomenon, with
which they have had something to do.
Well, such as she is, this round-faced Riga
young lady who is to marry Mr. Pantchou-
litzew seems to be all perfect in his eyes. He-
is childishly desirous that I shall ask hirr>
A Diplomat's Diary. 17
questions. I ask him a few, because I am
good-natured, and so, with the talk, and chay,
and beer, and cigars, the day slips into the
great darkness, and engulfs us at the station of
our journey's end,. Petierbourk ! Petierbourk !
Petierbourk !
I find myself almost clasped in the arms of
Berg, who has everything ready for me. He
has the ambassador's sleigh. Ossip, the chas-
seur, alert and pompous, takes possession
of my servants and my valises. Berg pulls
me this way and that. We jump into the
fur-lined vehicle ; Ivan, the coachman, grins ;
his beard is all covered with silver frost-drops.
The little black horses neigh and fret, with a
halo of snow on their flowing northern manes.
We draw up the great soft skins about our
chins, and off we dart like gnomes of the nighty
quick as a whirlwind through the silent streets.
' January 4.—Count Berg has certainly done
well for me. I have a large, cheery apartment
on the Quai de la Cour, close to our embassy,
c
18 A Diplomat's Diary.
and there is a private stable near where he has
four fine horses for me, and a well-appointed
turnout. Gustav and August have unpacked
my effects. I have been superintending the
arrangement of some photographs, books, and
bibelots.
After breakfast I had a long, earnest inter-
view with Narishkine. He is very cordial,
polished, and non-committal. Truly an agree-
able man, and a valuable servant to his country,
and there is unrolled before me such a vista of
possibilities!
This record, however, of my daily life is not
to be the confidant of state secrets. I might
fall dead of ennui one of these cold mornings,
and the public censors might pay my domicile
an inspectory call, or the secret police invade
its sanctities, merely by way of seeing whether
I leave any last messages for them. No, only
my own brain and heart shall be repositories
of my sovereign's commands, and of my owq
tactics in carrying them out
A Diplomat's Diary. 19
I will jot down here and there superficially
only such light details as may refresh my
memory for days and times and people and
places.
I am surprised and a little annoyed to find
I am to be lionized. I had hoped to arrive
unnoticed, and escape all but the necessary
visits of ceremony. It seems not. My table is
already piled high with invitations; My duty
lies largely in courtesy, and I must, with many
a grimace, bow to my fate. Lord Faville is
here, and it seems he and I are the rivals of
the hour. To be coupled with Lord Faville
for the favours of fashion! I confess that its
whims are not flattering. He is here for
pleasure, and I for work.
January 5.—I went to-day at eleven o'clock
to wait upon the Czar at the Anitchkoff. It
is greatly improved, inside and out, since its
erection by the great Catherine. A handsome
palace, magnificently furnished; and the pri-
yate apartments have a cosy modern comfort,
C 2
20 A Diplomat's Diary.
with cheerful windows looking on the great
" Prospect " and inner courts.
The Czar pressed my hand warmly, and
talked on general topics. It is evident he
desires to gain time. He asked elaborately
about the health of the royal family, and about
my own. He said the Empress would receive
hie in the afternoon, and dismissed me with an
(iAdieu, mon cher ! "—We shall see.
In the afternoon, en route to my interview
with the Empress, I left my card at all the
embassies and legations. Berg accompanied
me. He told me the news, the gossip, and the
scandals of this naughty town. He told me I
must go to the circus on Saturday nights.
There was a benefit to the Cornalba on
Sunday, which would be fashionably attended
by the Court, and altogether desirable. There
was an exceptionally fine troop at the Marien-
sky; and on Mondays I must have a fauteuil
at "The Italiens." Then, of course, I must
officially attend the first ball at the Winter
A Diplomats Diary. 21
Palace, and a bal-masque at the Princesse
SoltikofFs; and then there were the state
dinners to which I had been or should be
bidden.
While he talked I looked at him. He is
unchanged, except that his hair is grown grey;
much more so than mine, which is hardly
tinged at all. He wears it short, and it stands
up like a brush on his round head. Berg can
hardly be much over thirty-five. He has the
same expression as of old, at once ruse and
ingenuous. In his fur coat and sealskin cap
he looks like a young Jesuit priest; in his
sword, spurs, and casque, like a rakish soldier.
Berg is deep. I am attached to him in a
way, but I do not altogether trust him. He
has too much curiosity and not enough im-
agination to be a comrade to my taste. Still,
he knows his place, and keeps it.
The Empress looked at me with sweet, cold
eyes. She tried, evidently, not to be per-
functory, and I tried not to let her see that I
22 A Diplomat's Diary.
thought her so. In the effort I felt perhaps
she might say of me as my Emperor once did
of a youthful attach/ presented to him for
the first time. " He treated me with great
indulgence."
In her low, slightly husky tones, she said
some kind words of flattery, congratulating
me on the faith, I inspired in my sovereign,
and that a man as young as I was honoured
in being entrusted with such important mat-
ters; " for," she added, " I do not meddle in
politics, as you know, but I keep still in the
current."
This imperial lady dislikes me, I believe,
for she hates my nation, and in me she sees
to-day an enemy. Ah, my fair foe, I will wage
no war on you and yours if you will but smile
upon me! I have seen War close; the God
of battles has breathed into my ear, and the
word he uttered was,—Peace ! I kissed her
fingers " indulgently," and Berg and I were
ushered out by Prince D. and passed down
A Diplomat's Diary. 23
from hand to hand until the sentries saluted
us at the palace portals.
Here we met Strogonoff, and stopped to
chat with him. I then dismissed my sleigh,
and walked home alone. Certainly in the
twilight hour this city of pink plaster assumes
a fantastic loveliness. I strolled down the
Nevsky Prospect with its va ei viens of rush-
ing ca/iies, its crowded thoroughfare of quaint
promenaders, a motley crowd of curious folk,
-hurrying hither and thither like the unreal
phantoms of dreamland. Turks, Armenians,
eagle-eyed Jewish pedlers, Russian generals,
half hidden in their shubas, fi£h-vendors in
their low sledges, offering their unattractive
frozen fish, while the pigeons circle about with
rustle and flutter and gurgle, trying to get a
crumb to stop their hunger pangs.
Opposite the chapel of the Gostinii Dvor,
where the little sisters pray night and day,
and where the swinging lamps burn before the
sacred Icons, a funeral train was passing. To
24 A Diplomat's Diary.
my Protestant simplicity there is much that is
repellent in the ceremonial of this half-pagan
cult; yet the love of art and the sensuous
temperament, which I draw from my mother's
family, are, in spite of myself, more or less
enthralled by its imposing grandeur. First
came fifteen avant coureurs, bearing fifteen
white satin cushions, on which reposed the
decorations of the defunct official. The car
was all ablaze with gilded ornament, and
drawn by four black horses richly caparisoned.
The priest followed, with flowing hair and beard,
and then the widow, dragging her sable gar-
ments through the snow, alone and unsupported.
At a respectful distance from her solitary
woe a train of relatives and friends, all afoot.
With the ponderous movement of the Greek
ritual it takes half of the day to marry, bury, or
baptize. Delicate women stand and walk in
the cold for hours, and such is their faith that
they faint not. Certainly what we have gained
in light we have lost in fervour.
A Diplomat's Diary. 25
I shall become a "dome maniac" here.
These fairy constructions, bubbles of gold
blown against the wintry sky, are strangely
alluring. I walked through St. Isaac's rever-
ently enough ; there was a service of song in
progress. It was penetrating in the extreme,
and I sighed, with a vain longing, for a breath
of my old romance. I looked behind the
columns in vain for some fair form which
would awaken me to a thrill of joy, or of
ardour, but I only saw General Karazin, mum-
bling his prayers before a battered image.
What endless orisons the old reprobate must
recite if he means to atone for his merry past
Ah, romance! delight! how long since I
have felt their summons, and how rarely come
to us these radiant guests we each of us
expect!
White and still seemed the misty quays as I
emerged upon them, after the busy Nevsky and
the dark cathedral. I lounged along, looking
down upon the squalid Esquimaux tents on the
26 A Diplomat's Diary.
Neva, and up at the women of fashion, who
smiled at me as they passed like the wind in
their luxurious sleighs.
The Princesse Soltikoff stopped to speak, on
her way to Madame de Walkenstein's recep-
tion. She insisted I must not fail at her
masquerade ball the 22nd. "You must come
en bourgeois," she said, "for only the women
will mask."
" They always do," I replied.
" And you ?" she laughed. " Do you emu-
late them in this.? They call, you the impreg-
nable, but I call you the impenetrable. Oh,
we have heard. . . .• !" and she made a wave of
her hand as if encircling wide horizons.
And now to dinner at my embassy ; but
while I dress I reflect that at forty-two distrust
and disillusion have made havoc of a man's
fatuity. In the smiles of these dames I suspect
only a trap.
January 18.—^To-day is the great national
festival, " The Blessing of the Waters." It is
A Diplomat*s Diary. 2 7
a pretty, childish whim. I was with the royal-
ties all of the day. I have lived in courts
much of my life, yet I am no real courtier
My tastes are simple ; I prefer the tent. Per-
sonally I am enrage ior war,— and I have come
hither to discuss . . . a peace policy. Per-
sonally I love the camp, the bivouac, or, at
worst, my quiet rooms, my books, and my pipe,
and I am forced to smile and fawn, ground in
the mortar of that exacting mistress, etiquette ;
I am obliged to play the gallant and the
courtier.
Why do I do it ? why ? why ? First, because
I adore my country, and can so passionately
best serve her, and secondly, because I am
ambitious, and fame lies here.
This fete day is full of colour. Travellers
should see Petersburg , in winter. The streets
are filled with merry-makers, merry as these
Russian giants can be, with a tinge of tristesse
always ; a sort of half-sad patience. Here and
there groups of the disaffected, wild-haired
28 A Diplomat's Diary.
Nihilists, as they are called, gather sombrely.
Why are communism and dirt synonymous ?
The Russian plotters seem to have taken a vow
never to clean their nails and heads.
I thought the Empress looked a trifle pale.
The corps depages drove up in the gay Imperial
equipages. Every grade of the Tchin was
agog and out in its carriage, and even the sun
was brighter than usual for this benediction of
the sleeping river. They break the ice to bless
the shadowy waters.
In the evening I was invited to a supper
given at his rooms by one of the young. Chev-
alier guardsmen, Baron Strogonofl". He is
distantly related to the Scheremetiefs, a dash-
ing young fellow, and a favourite at the court.
He is said to be deeply in debt, but lives well
. . . for that reason. We were fifteen in all.
We had a jolly enough time from twelve to
one, with songs, stories, and excellent wines,
and my own spirits were of the gayest. I
was rather surprised when Berg suddenly told
A Diplomat's Diary. 29
me that a lady was expected. She arrived
about 1.30 o'clock. It was none other than
Madame Nathalie. She came direct from
the ballet, and had not waited to . . . dress ;
the display of her charms was extremely
generous.
I regret to say that these young officers had
drunk a good deal, and that their manners at
this hour were not marked by the self-control
and calmness our civilization exacts. The fun
had waxed a little loud. Madame Nathalie
got more admiration this time than ever she
had calculated upon ; she grew hotly indignant,
and a half-hour after her entree draped herself
in her shuba and left abruptly. I offered her
my arm to her carriage.
" Ce sont des grossiers animaux, monsieur,"
she said to me. " Mais vous, vous etes un grand
seigneur"
She looked at me boldly with her coarse, soft
eyes, but she was a woman after all, and I
noticed that her mpyth trembled.
3°
A Diplomat's Diary.
" I was one of them, madame," I said, " with
them, and in their company, in their name,
therefore, albeit a foreigner, I beg your
pardon."
She smiled faintly, grasped my hand
warmly, and drove away. I should hardly
have noted here this trivial incident had it
not had a sequel. I found more or less of a
brawl when I returned to Strogonoffs dining-
room. He had hurried downstairs only in
time to see Nathalie's brougham turning the
corner. He was worried and angry, and
accused one of his guests, a foolish boy, d'Au-
billy, a French attache\ of having insulted the
danseuse. D'Aubilly protested his half-tipsy
deprecation. As for me, decidedly I am losing
my taste for such amusements as these, and
during the high words which ensued I made
my escape unnoticed.
The night was bitterly cold. Under its
silent influences my high spirits of an hour
before fell. The stories we had told and lis-!
A Diploma?s Diary. 31
tened to seemed vapid and witless, the songs
ribald, and senseless, and the rudeness to the
woman vulgar. The fumes of the wine I had
drunk had made a fever in my veins, but no
exhilaration in my brain. I thought with dis-
gust of the childish freaks of men, and the
idiocies and indecencies of it all. I must con-
fess I am not usually given to analysis, although
my career might have led me into overmuch
finessing. I generally take myself and others
simply enough ; for unless one does this there
can be no action, and I like action, blood, and
stir. Simplicity has always seemed to me one
idea of genius.
Nathalie's farewell grasp had not been
simple to me. It was alluring, inasmuch as
nature is always so, and it had been grateful
and true, even in the mima ; yet it was repel-
lent, because her fingers had lingered as much
as if to tell me, "We shall see, we shall meet!"
Frankly, I have seen all I want of Madame
Nathalie; she could only lose on a closer
32 A Diplomat's Diary.
inspection. At any rate, I believe I behaved
like a gentleman.
When I got home I bathed my room in the
cold moonlit waves of wind, and dismissed all
further remembrance of my evening. Gustav
came by-and-by and threw my cloak about
me as I sat at the piano, trying to find
the key of a refrain I had once heard,—
" Perdu tout deux dans la steppe infinie! "
I sang it over and over, first in this key and
then in that,—"Perdu tout deux dans la steppe
infinieP
I thought of poor dead Marie, and the
empty years since,—empty of heart ... I
forgot that she had been weak, and had re-
nounced me, only to remember that she had
once been tender. But somehow the refrain
was not made for her: I could not imagine
myself happy alone on the steppe with Marie,
and an unfelt, unknown premonition stirred
within me. Tall and tranquil, this new vision
beckoned to me across the night; and here
A Diplomat's Diary. 33
there was no weakness, but only strength and
power.
Smoking a cigarette, and still humming to
myself, I divested myself of my panoply of
war and sought my bed. I had a dream of
battle, not of love: I lay wrapped in my
cloak by a camp-fire on the hill which over-
looked Plevna. I was talking to Stronkoff, of
the long golden moustaches, and to Genghis.
Levitzky, too, was there, and we all spoke
in whispers of Skobelefif, who was away off
fighting on the other side of the hill. We
could see the smoke on the distant horizon.
It was stormy, and we were cold and wet.
A train of wagons came in sight; we knew
it was the Grand Duke's commissariat. " I
am only an on-looker at this war," I said,
and when their big brass samovars were
brought I would not touch their hot tea.
Then suddenly a man from among the others
turned upon me and called me a traitor. I in
vain explained to him that I was there through
D
34 A Diplomat's Diary.
his Emperor's courtesy, and that I bore his
people 110 ill will.
"You see that smoke rising near the re-
doubt/' he said. " Skobelefif's position will be
lost through your treachery. Our dead are
many, and curse you ! "
" Skobelefif," I cried, " is the worst canaille
that ever shouldered musket or brandished
sabre !"
Then they all fell upon me. I turned to
grapple with them and defend myself, and
awoke suddenly to find that I was wrestling
with Gustav.
" The Herr Graff has the nightmare," he said..
" Na, gnadige Herr; these supper-parties are
evil things."
My only satisfaction was that I had expressed
my opinion of their general before I awoke. It
would have been indiscreet afterwards. I slept,
and dreamed no more.
January 19.—After an hour's conference of
some importance with a Russian officer upon
A Diplomat's Diary, 35
military matters, I was at breakfast, with my
mouth full of compote, when the door which
leads from my study to my modest dining-
room was violently thrown open, and, announc-
ing " A lady desires to see monsieur," August,
with a twirl of his curly moustache, ushered
in ... a woman. I had no time to rebuke
him angrily at this unlooked-for invasion, when
Madame Nathalie swept into my presence.
She threw herself breathlessly into a chair,
while I wiped my lips with the napkin I still
flourished in my hand.
" Have you heard," she cried, clasping her
hands together dramatically,—" have you heard
there will be a duel ?"
I shook my head, and she went on,—
" It is all the fault of that foolish boy. He
has pursued me for many weeks; but even if
he had not insulted me, as he did last night, I
can confide to you that there was no hope for
him, not a vestige ! " Here she smiled. " The
only man who would have dared to marry me
D 2
36 A Diplomat's Diary.
was shot by a Frenchman, and I made a vow
I would never give myself to one of that hate-
ful nation ! But, after all, this one—he is
only un enfant, and Strogonoff is a great
swordsman. The boy is dead if they fight
with swords!"
She spoke hurriedly and excitedly, but a
genuine anxiety pierced through the rapture
of the comedienne, whose vanity was caressed,
and of the woman of business, who scented a
good advertisement.
Having disposed of my napkin and my com-
pote, I asked her, standing up against the
mantelpiece, in what way I might serve her,—
if perhaps she would honour me by sharing my
repast that we might talk over the affair more
at leisure ?
She freed herself with a rapid gesture from
her encumbering furs, and, tossing off the
little sealskin cap which rested on her short
black hair, she seated herself opposite me at the
table, drawing off her- long tan gloves.
A Diplomat's Diary. 37
" What have you got to eat ? " she asked,
looking at me with her big eyes, through their
thick lashes. " How nicely arranged you are,
and how pleasantly for a chat ! Seriously, mon
cher, you must stop all this."
Considering that we were to talk over an
affair of life or death, I could not, in paren-
thesis, but admire the exceUent appetite and
astonishing rapidity with which my fair visitor,
as she talked, disposed of pickled salmon,
omelet an trujfes, mushrooms on toast, and
mutton cutlets, with two bumpers of beer, a
glass of Vodka, coffee, and a chasse.
" I came," she said, -showing her white,
regular, cruel little teeth, over which her thin
lips never entirely close, " because you are a
man of the world and, as I told you last
night, a grand seigneur. No Frenchman
would ever have behaved as you did last
evening."
" I am so surprised, madame, to hear you
speak disparagingly of a great people, which
38 A Diplomat's Diary..
I believed to be your own. Are you not a
Parisian ?"
"I never could discover," she replied, evi-
dently pleased, " to what nation I did belong-,
and it has its advantages. I can faire de la
politique, with impartiality. Mamma said she
was a . . . Styrian, and about papa," she added,,
laughing, " there always seemed to be some
doubt. A propos of the French . . . last
night, do you know, I began to adore their
enemies."
I bowed, but these unsought confessions
were becoming intensely disagreeable to me.
Madame Nathalie, I had to admit to myself,
looked far more attractive in her simple, dark
cloth costume, which fitted to perfection, and
threw out into bold relief, while somewhat
subduing, the magnificent proportions of her
bust and hips, than she had in her tulle and
tinsel. She had used cosmetics very sparingly
this morning, and in all her poses there was
the strength of the gymnast in repose.
A Diplomat's Diary. 39
I realized that these splendid feminine
charms, to which were added the gestures
and facial expressions of a debased gamin,
might have for many men great piquancy.
She leaned her face -upon her hands, which
were boneless and soft, the hands of the
woman of pleasure. She looked across the
table at me.
" Yes, they say the women of the world
like to be treated a la legfoe, but we . . . artists "
—she hesitated a moment -to find a correct
word—"we ... artists appreciate a distin-
guished man who understands us and treats
us with respect."
" And about this duel ? " I said, impatiently,
pretending not to notice her challenging
glances. There was something magnetic to
me in the woman's regard ; but the pole of
repulsion was there. I was a man, and her
evident admiration of my humble person stirred
within me a certain brutal satisfaction, but I
wished at all hazards to be rid of her, and of
40 A Diplomat's Diary.
a folly which might prove troublesome and
even contagious, like some undesirable malady.
"Ah, yes!—the duel! I was saying—
what was I saying ?" and she laughed. I can
imagine nothing less pleasant than Nathalie's
laughter.
"You were saying," I said, sternly, "that
young d'Aubilly was a doomed man if it took
place, and that there had better be no delay.
I will go at once to his ambassador's and see
what can be done to stop the nonsense. The
boy was tipsy, and you surely cannot wish
him punished. And then," I added, more
gallantly, "it was, after all, your own fault.
He is not the first whose blood you have
fired." I rose and began to buckle on my
sword.
" Would you leave me like this ? " she said,
plaintively. " Don't you ask me to . . . come
again ? How strong you are, and robust! "
she added, watching my every movement,^as
if fascinated.
A Diplomat's Diary. 41
" I am very strong, madame," I replied,
"but there are some tests to which I should
not dare to put myself." And getting my
casquette down from its peg, I almost pushed
past her to the door.
I could see she was intensely piqued. She
was putting on her hat half-way on the stairs.
" I will stay longer next time," she cried
over her shoulder at me defiantly, with a
saucy shake of her black mane.
When the door had closed upon her, I went
back, stepped into my bedroom, and buried
my face in a great basin full of fresh cold
water. I then washed my hands and polished
my nails elaborately, poured out a glass of
Tsarskoe Selo water from its brown cruche,
and quaffed it with avidity. She had left a
queer smell of chypre behind her, which I
detested.
" Go out, August," I called, " and get some
flowers for the .vases in my study, and let them
be such as have a strong perfume."
42 A Diplomat's Diary.
August grinned. He evidently thought me
a lucky fellow for a man of my years. In the
street I met Berg, who told me the challenge
had been exchanged, but the French ambassador
had stepped in, and an apology would be
made.
" Fancy," he said, " fighting for that canaille,
but by Gad, she is a superb creature au physique.
Why, Strogonoff is mad after her. You ought
to cultivate her, if you want . to find out
things ; they say she knows no end of state
secrets."
" I will choose some less expensive methods
of information," I said, laughing, while we
clanked along arm in arm, exchanging salutes
with many acquaintances. "Avoid women
scrapes," was my last bit of home advice.
" Tiens I did they think it necessary ? I
thought you were called the impregnable,"
chuckled Berg. " That is the name with which
they dub you here. Your reputation has
heralded you."
A Diplomat's Diary. 43
I changed the subject. Berg grows familiar.
We hailed a passing gani, and drove off
furiously, crossing the Fontanka Canal, with
its great granite walls. All the world was in
the street. The Russian isvoztchik is certainly
very picturesque, with his long blue coat, wide
girth, and low-crowned hat, which looks like
those queer velvet pin-cushions one sees at
charitable fairs.
We passed the American minister's sleigh
with its black Orloff trotters, blue cloth reins,
fat coachman, bearskins, and chasseur,—quite
a good equipage. There was a lady with the
Poslonttiek, middle-aged, probably his wife.
Now I remember these people receive to-
morrow, and I must pay my respects.
Visits of ceremony to uninteresting people
are the thorn of my profession. I am told
these Americans are very respectable, correct,
and well-bred people. I take little interest,
however, in the nation they represent; their tra-
ditions are nil, and their institutions intensely
44 A Diplomat''s Diary.
antipathetic to me. They are a remarkable
people, but they have no sympathy. I have
never had any curiosity to see them at close
quarters, and shall probably avoid visiting
them in their own country. However, I will
go into their legation for fifteen minutes to-
morrow. Civility costs little. I am wrong:
civilities seem to cost a good deal sometimes.
My own to Madame Nathalie, for instance, if
she be true to her sex, will bear fruit, at any
rate.
I shall not be the mere caprice of a depraved
woman, for now I have touched her imagina-
tion. If I know anything of her captious sex,
Madame Nathalie is thinking of me at this
very moment, and is plotting my downfall.
Ha, ha, ha! Her lovers, who will shower her
to-night with jewels and with flowers, at her
benefit, will be, with their gifts, as dross in her
eyes. Make place for me, messieurs, at least
for a few hours ! I am the unattainable. Ah !
if men only knew—and women too !
A Diplomat's Diary. 45
I stop at some of the brilliantly-lighted
French jewellery shops on the Nevsky and buy
a few trinkets to send home. I choose a
quaint jewelled book-mark for the Princesse.
She cannot wear it, and it is much better.
Only a woman I love shall ever wear aught
that I have given to her! I have promised
to be a friend to that lonely girl, and if that
devil, Harnay, does not again work on her
exaltte temperament by drawing exaggerated
pictures of my supposed concealed attachment,
I will be the best friend and support she ever
has had. With a frivolous, unkind father,
utterly regardless of her, and with no mother
or sister upon whom she can lean, she is
indeed to be pitied.
All that episode is full of vexation. To
think that a few dances at the old schloss, a
few games, a little kindness, should have been
so misinterpreted ! I am one of the least vain
of men, yet here !
January 20.—I had a long stance with
46 A Diplomat's Diary.
Narishkine this morning. Like Napoleon, he
kept on his glasses, that I might not see his
eyes. As ever, he was supple and eluding,—
but all serious matters in connection with my
mission ,I note not here.
My morning has been entirely eclipsed, I
admit, and overshadowed by my afternoon.
The morning was earnest, arduous, difficult.
The afternoon has left with me a sense of
pleasure, and an aroma delicate and subtile,
like the taste of some rare wines. I smile in
writing it down. It all came from an hour I
passed with the Americans. Having left cards
on one or two ladies, who were not at home,
I had myself carried to 81 Sergievskaya. The
United States minister, like most of his com-
patriots, is rich, and lives well. They have
hired Count de Vlassow's little palace, which
they have furnished and arranged with con-
siderable elegance. .When ushered in I found
Madame North surrounded by a number of
callers. She was doing the honours of her
A Diplomat's Diary. 47
salon with affability and simplicity. After
engaging her in conversation for a few
moments, I wandered across the room to the
tea-table, where I soon found myself wedged
in behind the samovar, between Lady Xavier
and her daughter.
The latter was attired in a green gown,
with some red about it here and there, which
exactly matched her hair and eyebrows, and
of which the effect was painful. The tea-
table stands under some large palms at one
end of the drawing-room, and about it the
younger people seem to cluster, while Madame
North detains the older ones nearer the door,
where she receives. The room is cheery and
homelike, v/ith deep low lounges, a few fine
pictures, an encombrement of bric-a-brac dis-
posed on their itagkrcs and tables, shaded
lamps, and a bright wood fire. The heated
walls of Russian houses make them in-
tolerably warm. Buttoned closely up in our
uniforms, how we poor officers do suffer!
48 A Diplomat's Diary.
These rooms were cooler than is usual, and
their atmosphere was extremely agreeable.
Well, as I say, I was exchanging inanities
with Miss Xavier, who is not my affinity, and
whose hair was redder and whose cheeks were
larger than usual, and was meditating a speedy
escape, when there was a slight stir at the
door. At the same moment Lady Xavier
tapped me on the shoulder with her long gold
eyeglass.
" Who is the distinguished-looking woman
in violet velvet ?" she asked, in a sharp
whisper.
Detaching herself from the group with whom
she had entered, and distinct from them all
through some intangible unresemblance, the
person in question came forward, with a
slightly trainant movement, towards the table
where wre sat. Seeing that we were all un-
known to her, and that we were at the same
time watching her she half-stopped, irresolute
for a moment, and looked back a little appeal-
A Diplomat's Diary. 49
ingly at the lady of the house. Mrs. North
came out quickly from among her friends, and,
putting one arm lightly about the younger
woman's figure, propelled her gently in our
direction. I rose.
"Lady Xavier, let me present to you my
niece. My niece—Miss Xavier. Monsieur,
may I present you to my niece ?"
The name was mentioned twice, but these
foreign syllables stick in the teeth of their
utterer, and I am not quick at unravelling
their mysteries. I found myself standing
rather awkwardly in front of the " distin-
guished lady in violet velvet."
She bowed to me vaguely, not looking at
me particularly, and sank into an arm-chair
close to Lady Xavier's elbow.
" I am tired," she said.
" Have you been sight-seeing, my dear ? "
asked Lady Xavier, in that patronizing tone
in which older important women address
young insignificant ones. I could see she
E
50 A Diplomat's Diary.
was thoroughly " taking in " the elegant figure
of the new arrival. I was already wondering
how many days it would take for her per-
sistent malevolence to awaken and sling its
envenomed arrows at this new and inviting
target. I had known Lady Xavier many
years, and had followed her through various
vicissitudes of far less splendid days. I knew
her foibles.
"Yes, a little. I did some of the churches.
My uncle took me out."
"You have only just arrived ?" asked Gladys
Xavier.
" Let me see. Yes, it is not a week yet. It
seems years ; " and she sighed.
" Why, don't you like Petersburg ?" said
Miss Xavier with round eyes.
" My daughter enjoys every minute here;
there is a great deal of fun for the younger
people," said the mother.
"After the court balls commence, and you
have been presented, you will enjoy yourself
A Diplomat's Diary. 51
immensely. You can skate at the Tauride,
and all that," said Gladys.
" Oh, balls ? I have been to so many balls,"
said the violet lady, evidently not impressed.
By the way, it was a charming toilet. She
had left her wraps in the hall, and wore a
closely-fitting pansy-coloured gown, which
draped her shapely slenderness to perfection.
I don't know much about the detail of a
woman's costume, but this was certainly very
harmonious. It fell in a straight fine line to
her feet, and there was gleaming black jet
about it. On her head she wore a very
becoming toque of the same sombre hues.
She had a thin white veil tightly drawn
across her face, but it did not reach her
mouth. It was the flower-like mouth of a girl
of twenty. The veiled eyes were wiser.
She leaned far back in the low causeuse,
but there Avas a suspicion of daring in her
abandon. Lavater infers character from gait
and attitude : under this woman's tranquillity
E 2
52 A Diplomat's Diary.
there evidently lurked a plenitude of force
and of energy. The wild creatures of the
woods and of the deserts have this repose
when, at rest.
As she had not deigned to notice me, I had
plenty of leisure for surmises. Lady Xavier
studied her too. I fancied she was already
beginning to disapprove.
Old Prince Bodisko was talking about
Madame Skobeleff mire to some young ladies
near the tea-table. He talked loudly, and all
turned to listen.
" I knew her," he said, " a handsome, clever
woman. She came to Petersburg with her
pretty daughters, full of projects, of ambitions;
but we are not amiable here, and they were
not received. The Countess X., who made the
sunshine and the rain for us then, was giving
a ball. She was asked an invitation for the
Skobeleff ladies. ' What! invite that canaille
to my house ? ' she asked. The cruel reply
was brought to Madame S. 'Did she say that?'
A Diplomat's Diary. 53
asked the mother. ' Her son shall marry my
daughter !' And," added the prince, " he did."
" And he has paid well since for his mother's
affront to his mother-in-law," said a young
woman, amid quickly-quelled laughter.
The lady in violet had listened intently to
Bodisko's anecdote, and I noticed that a slight
flush rose in her cheeks, and into her eyes a
look of triumph.
" That was well done," laughed the others.
" My dear, let me present you to the Countess
Barythine," said Mrs. North, addressing her
niece.
The old Countess, such a well-known figure
in St. Petersburg society that description is
superfluous, glided forward with extended
fingers. She wore her richest sables and her
suavest manners.
" Charmed," she said, " to make your ac-
quaintance;" and, after a few commonplaces,
" When you get bored in the gay whirl," she
said, " you can come and sit with me now and
54 A Diplomats Diary.
then. I love young people. I will present
you to my niece Wasia. Wasia is very pretty
and d la mode. You will see her at court
She will wear a lovely wreath of white chry-
santhemums with one of the big Oblensky
diamonds in the centre of each. They were
her mother's. It is a great risk, but young
women now-a-days don't value heirlooms. She
has just shown me the wreath. I shall not go
to the ball: I have nothing to wear; I am
greatly impoverished. The expenditure for
my good husband's mausoleum, with the de-
pression of the rouble, has swallowed up half
of my fortune. I only hope his family appre-
ciate what I have done for his memory.
Since his death I have lived in retirement. I
am an old bachelor. I detest the world. I
sit at home, quietly, in the evenings, and read,
read, until my poor eyes give out. I have my
dog, my cigarette, my ' Figaro !' I cannot
live without my 'Figaro.' It is worth all our
Russian gazettes put together. They are only
A Diplomats Diary. 55
made to put us off the track, as the people
say here." She winked and laughed softly,
as if at some amusing reminiscence. " And
so you too are from America ? His Excel-
lency's niece,—cousin, did you say ? Then
you must have known a great American,
one I have long desired to meet. You
are probably intimately acquainted with Dom
Pedro ?"
"No," said the lady in violet, "I have not
that honour."
" Ah, to be sure: How dull and stupid
you must think me. You are from the north
of America, from New York, I believe. I nov
recollect that you are not au mieux with the
Brazilians; that you had that terrible and
bloody war, and beat them badly too. I had
forgotten. But then," she added, politely, " it
is so long ago you are too young to remember
these things. I thought by this time all would
be bridged over, but Southerners are always
revengeful. And nature herself divides you
56 A Diplomat's Diary.
from your Southern States. Look at your
Isthmus of Panama ! "
"You, monsieur," said the lady addressed,
with quiet gravity, turning for the first etime
of her own accord and addressing me, " have
probably had even greater facilities than
madame to study our conflicts, since I believe
you are a soldier as well as a diplomat. Do
you not wonder at the continued animosity
of the Brazilians ?"
The Countess looked unconsciously from
one to the other, awaiting my answer. Our
eyes had met and mingled for a moment in
the freemasonry of a mutual amusement.
My own may have been too bold, for she
blushed.
"I gave lectures to my young officers on
your war, madame. Both sides fought well."
" You are encouraging," she replied, a little
sarcastically I thought, and turned to have a
foreign dignitary presented to her.
I was struck with her perfect composure,
A Diplomat"s Diary. 57
and also with her absolute indifference to
myself. It piqued me into a desire to continue
the conversation.
"Why did you come to Russia, madame?"
I ventured to say to her later, handing her a
cup of tea at her own request.
"To amuse myself."
" And are you amused ?"
" No."
" Perhaps you are exacting ? "
" Perhaps ! I think myself very easily
pleased."
"And you leave America like that? No
duties . . . Nothing to detain you ? "
" I never do my duty."
" Oh, madame ! "
" And you ?"
" I try to do mine."
" Why will you not undertake a new devoir,
then ?" and she looked at me aslant her little
voilette, with a queer searching expression
which held my own.
58 A Diplomat's Diary.
" And that is ?"
"To help amuse me. I think you are not
stupid. Nearly every one is stupid."
"How can you tell I am not stupid ? You
have not deigned to look at me once. I am
lamentably dull."
"Really?"
"Yes; for although I have not taken my
eyes from off your face since you entered, I do
not know your name, or even whether I am
addressing a married lady or a demoiselle."
" Ah ! it makes no difference."
"Yes it does."
" Which do you think ? "
"1 think you are probably married."
"Why?"
" Because you have such diabolical aplomb."
" And you think marriage leads to diabolical
denouements ? "
" I know nothing about marriage, except what
I hear from others, madame. I confess it is
not encouraging."
A Diplomat's Diary. 59
" You are not married ? "
" Do I look like a married person ?"
" I have not examined you."
" Oh, yes, you have. You said I did not
look stupid."
" One must say something."
" Thank you."
Mrs. North now moved again from the door,
and her niece rose.
" I am really fatigued, ma tante. I shall ask
you to excuse me and let me go and rest," and
with a slight inclination of her head in my
direction she swept from the room, dragging
her violet skirts with a swish over the parquet
floor.
" My niece has but lately arrived in Peters-
burg," said my hostess, apologetically. " She
is mad, poor child, about art, and all these
new sights. She has been at the galleries
all day, and she is still tired from her long
journey."
I bowed. "We diplomats, madame, are
60 A Diplomat's Diary.
proverbially curious. Above all, we must know
and remember names. May I ask you to tell
me very distinctly the lady's name ?"
" Mrs. Acton, Mrs. Lucien Acton."
" And is Monsieur Acton with you too ? " I
asked, " and shall I make his acquaintance ? "
" My niece is a widow." Mrs. North sighed,
—the perfunctory sigh with which the virtuous
matron feels called upon to ann,ounce another's
misfortune.
"Madame, I salute you," I said, shrinking
somehow incomprehensibly from any further
revelations, and taking my leave. Mr. North
tried to detain me when I reached the hall.
He is an agreeable man, but I made my
escape, and, jumping into my sleigh, went on to
the Kossecki's. I found quite a crowd there.
It was embitant in the extreme.
Certainly Mr. and Mrs. North seem excellent
people. I must cultivate them.
January 22.—The expressions of the features,
people say, of the eyes and mouth, denote a
A Diplomat's Diary. 61
person's soul, yet one easily learns to conceal
natural emotions under the facial mask. There
are signs more unguarded, and hence more
certain. A movement of the hips in walking,
the position of an arm and of a hand are a
revelation. Temperament is made clear to
me often in a demarche. Charm, the gewisses
etwas} has always seemed to me a spring from
a heart full of passion, whether overflowing or
concentrated and stifled. In either case, but
particularly in the latter, it cannot be con-
cealed ; it breathes from the body, from the
very garments.
Dark eyes are tell-tale. There is a long,
half-shut, light eye which never reveals its
secrets. The movements of graceful limbs
betray far more. I think Mrs. Lucien Acton
has such eyes. What an odd young woman !
It is a praznik here to-day. It is a praznik
here every other day. Pavil has gone out and
dragged most of the moujiks at his heels;
that scamp, August, too, has managed to
62 A Diplomat's Diary.
escape, and Gustav, forced to double duty, is
trembling with suppressed fury.
I am obliged to attend the baptism of his
Imperial Highness the little Grand Duke in
the chapel of the Winter Palace. There is a
great crowd in the streets. The baby drives
in a coach drawn by six pure white horses,
and behind comes the Grand Chamberlain.
All about the royal carriage are mounted
Cossacks. It is a pretty sight. Every one
is in gala attire, and the court ladies wear the
kakocJi7iik.
The child is brought forward on a satin
pillow embroidered in gold, by the Princess
Nikitenko, with his godfathers following. The
Imperial boy-choir sings in sweet unison, while
the Pop immerses the child. The Czar then
walks three times about the altar with his baby
in his arms, and the whole affair breaks up with
a general kissing; during which I felt very
much left out in the cold, for nobody offered to
kiss me.
A Diplomat's Diary. 63
Then the great breakfast at the palace, with
its elaborate menu, where everybody's health
was drunk, and every one seemed in good
humour.
The pretty, heedless baby is already honorary
colonel of half a dozen regiments. Good luck
to him, poor little mortal! He needs kind
thoughts and prayers, for what vicissitudes may
he not encounter !
January 23.—Five hundred men and women,
the latter splendid in their diamonds, the for-
mer in their uniforms and decorations, the
cream of Petersburg society, gathered at the
Winter Palace under the radiance of a hundred
chandeliers. Within its gilded railing the
orchestra regales us withsweet strains. In the
rotunda and along the galerie militaire, a buffet
where are served champagne frappe, fruits, ices,
bonbons, and tea from smoking samovars, all
served in Georgian silver, or upon massive gold
plate.
Card-tables are disposed in the Arab Room.
64 A Diplomat's Diary.
At ten the royalties arrive. The Emperor
wears his uniform of the Cossack Guards, and
the hereditary Grand Duke that of the Im-
perial Guard of Hussars. The Empress and
her ladies of the Imperial family and household
vie with each other in the magnificence of their
toilets. They look like a flock of tropical
birds.
Supper is served at one in the great ban-
queting-halls of the Nicholas and Jordanoff-
skaia, changed as by magic into delicious
gardens of rare palms and exotic flowers.
The Emperor, attended by Prince D., steps
out among the tables to see that his guests are
well served, while the Empress presides at her
table surrounded by the Grand Duchesses,
the ambassadors, and her ladies of honour.
. A brilliant ball indeed, with many beautiful
women, many distinguished men, light, jewels,
music, laughter, magical effects, and supreme
elegance. The Empress, ever affable and
courteous, with her own beauty at its very
A Diplomat's Diary. 65
best. So much for the frame. Now for the
picture, and my own personal experiences.
While I stood with a party of aides and cour-
tiers awaiting the entrance of their Majesties
my eyes became fastened upon a pair of
shoulders which rose out of their soft laces
just in front of me, amid the crowd of ladies,
wives and daughters of dignitaries, who were
standing in readiness to make their courtesies
to the approaching royalties.
I had never seen these shoulders, yet I felt
a certain proprietorship in them. They seemed
not strange to me, and their contemplation
gave me the intimate delight which we feel
in finding again, for an instant, some lost
dream of youth or of romance. They were
unencumbered by ornament of any sort, and
this in a land of jewels where the women's
heads and throats are fairly bowed under their
weight of gems seemed to give an added
charm and strength to their outline. I can
fancy nothing more poetic than their slope,
66 A Diplomat's Diary.
nothing more pure than the line of the neck
from the tiny pink ear to the arm. It filled
my sculptor's heart with delight. It is many
years since I threw away my scalpel, that dear
pastime of my boyish holidays, but the love
of form is strong in me, and I found it here
in its finest development.
The head, too. was haughtily held, with its
mignonne nuque and hair tossed up in a ray
of light to the crown. The front locks are
darker. I drew closer to drink in the per-
fume of beauty which seemed to radiate from
the polished pink skin, for the complexion
was not of ivory, but marbled, as if betokening
a rich and generous vitality.
Did my breath "ruffle her sensitiveness as
I stood, closely buttoned into my full-dress
uniform, my twenty-seven decorations osten-
tatiously placarded upon my manly breast,
and the plume of my casque sweeping the
floor close to her feet ? At any rate, Mrs.
Acton turned.
A Diplomat's Diary. 67
" Ah ! " she said, " I thought it was you."
" I have been here close behind you for
twenty minutes or more."
" And, pray, how were you occupied ?"
" Contemplating your back, and conclu-
sively persuaded that you had rested to some
purpose."
" Why ?"
" Why ? Because you are so unspeakably
fresh and radiant to-night."
" Does my back reveal all this ? How very
nice ! I am amused, and that is the reason.
Happiness is unbecoming! It makes one
gaunt and hollow-eyed, like all the emotions;
but amusement, pleasure, that is a woman's
best atmosphere. It agrees with my health
and my skin."
A disagreeable thought crossed my mind
I wondered what experiences Mrs. Acton had
vaguely alluded to.
" I have never known happiness," I replied,
not quite truthfully (and yet not all untruthr
F 2
68 A Diplomat"s Diary.
fully either, for how pale it grows!), " and I
am sick of . . . pleasure."
" I don't believe a word of what you say.
You have tasted happiness, and you are not
sick of pleasure. You adore pleasure;" she
emphasized " adore " with a pretty mone. This
made me laugh.
"You have to-night," she said, "the smile
of a young tiger."
" If it is young, madame, man-like I pass
over the less complimentary comparison."
" Why uncomplimentary ? It pleases me.
Your smile is usually kindly and indulgent.
To-night it is military and fierce. You are
on parade. I admire it, your epaulets, and
the feather in your hat."
""Take care, madame, you will have me
assume a perpetual grin, and if I read you
aright you will be the first to find it odious,
for I feel sure that stereotyped men and
things weary you, and that you quickly
drive them away; then, besides, you are
A Diplomat's Diary. 69
amusing yourself now immensely at my ex-
pense."
" Oh, 110, when men grow tiresome I do not
drive them away! I simply get up and leave
them to themselves."
" I was very tiresome, then, the other day at
the legation ?"
" Very."
I felt as piqued as an awkward school-boy
She noticed my gloomy visage, and made
instant amends for her raillery by looking up
at me with a lovely smile.
"Here," she said, "is just the type you
admire, I am certain. This tall woman enter-
ing on this officer's arm : large black eyes, an
eagle's nose, a high forehead, and a—mous-
tache!"
" Effectively Madame Lowenstein is very
handsome. That gentleman is her Husband."
"They seem to have a great deal to say to
each other. She looks annoyed and yet
deprecating."
70- A Diplomat's Diary.
" Of course; she speaks to him with that
mixture of irritability and compunction to
which women treat the men they habitually
deceive. Here is her lover. Now watch their
little manoeuvres."
"Ah, monsieur, you make me afraid of
you!"
"I wish that I could. So you do not admire
feminine moustaches ?"
" Do you ? "
" Immensely. A little down on a red upper
lip is not without allurement."
" In America it would be called a defect."
" Ah, you are a young people! We need
spicier things to suit our vitiated and per-
verted taste."
" I dislike to be laughed at."
" I was never more serious in my life."
Then the Imperial party entered, and Lady
Xavier carried away Mrs. Acton to be pre-
sented to their Majesties.
I stood against a pillar and watched the
A Diplomat's Diary. 71
pageant. There was a good deal of vexation,
I fear, in my manner, when Prince D. tapped
me on the shoulder and issued his commands
that I should engage the Princess Nikitenko
for the Mazurka, that wild coquettish dance,
little suited to the mature proportions of my
partner. But I was caught.
For nearly an hour I lost sight of Madame
Acton while I piloted my stout partner
through the intricate figures. I heard distant
rumours, however, of her successes. Several
women asked me whether I had seen the
Americamey and some men in passing urged
me to present them.
When the Mazurka was over with indecent
haste I bowed to my Princess and wandered
forth in search of her. I found her at last
in the conservatory amid a forest of plants
and shrubs, half hidden. Berg was leaning
over her, and a certain Circassian prince of
my acquaintance, brave in his purple velvet
doublet tipped with sables, his sabre and
72 A Diplomat's Diary.
jewelled poniard, was holding her cup of
yellow chay. Did she look a little bored,
or was it only my fatuity which fancied that
her fair face lighted up in welcome at my
approach!
" Well, moil cherP I said to Prince Savfet,
" another beautiful woman has succumbed to
your poniard and those furs of yours. And
he has the folly to believe, madame, that it is
all for his beauxyeuxP
" Why, this lady has ill-treated me, called
me a savage, and refused to take my arm to
supper," answered Savfet, looking down at
Mrs. Acton with the dreamy far-away eyes
of his race.
Berg certainly has a most indecent tone
with women. I could have fairly struck him
in the face for the way he was devouring
Mrs. Acton with his eyes. The devil take his
impudence! And she, to be sure, careless
and languid, indifferent,—who knows, perhaps
pleased! I notice the greater the lady and
A Diplomat's Diary.
73
the more refined, the less mindful she is of
such bold glances. Can it be possible they
do not detect the lurking insult in such
homage !
Every woman seems to prefer a compliment
to her beauty than to her intellect, to her
fascination than to her moral qualities. I am
positive that the Empress is just the same.
They absolutely like it, and there is some
truth in poor Nathalie's cynicism.
After a few more words of badinage I
offered her my arm. " Come," I said, author-
itatively, and she came. Away from the
others, her graceful swaying figure balanced
on my arm by the light touch of a long gloved
hand, the little curls of her dark hair just
brushing against the gold of my epaulet, we
passed down the stately halls together, re-
fleeted in a hundred mirrors. People asked
who was this tall stranger in her exquisite pale
draperies which fell about her like the peplum
of a Greek goddess.
74
A Diplomat's Diary.
She was very quiet; not in the least dazzled
by anything that she saw ; much more of a
princess than the real ones, I thought, with
her elegant insouciance; an American princess
of a subtler quality. I remembered poor
Flavie with her unkempt locks and her petty
economies!
Of course this can be nothing serious, only
. . . I wonder who and what she is. I
hardly know what we' talked about. I only
know that her heart beat close to mine, and
made its pulses warmer. I spoke to her of the
approaching masked ball.
" My uncle would not approve," she said.
" Then do not tell him ; only go ! "
" What vile advice ! Of course to go clan-
destinely would be a great inducement. But
I should have fancied you too conservative to
give a young woman such evil counsel, par-
ticularly when her nature inclines her to follow
it. What! deceive my good kind uncle who
is so indulgent to me ? "
A Diplomat's Diary. 75
" So you think me conservative ? "
" I know that you are."
" Think what you will, only promise me
you will go to the masked ball," I said,
hotly.
" There are things, monsieur, one does, and
one does not say."
She is enchanting!
That was a good ball!
January 24.—At the Anichkoff this morning
I found the Czar playing at snowballs with his
boys in the palace court-yard. The Empress
smiled down at them from her windows: a
pretty family group.
There is to be a review on the 26th, in my
honour, I believe. To-day 110 one seems in
the mood to discuss state problems. Every
one is lazy, still more or less in a praznik
humour. The review, if this moderate weather
continues, will take place on the Siemnie
Dovarietz Square. The snow is falling; this
queer Russian snow, like salt, sifting, drifting
76 A Diplomat's Diary.
down. No storm, no wind ; all swift and
silent. It never melts here, and they care for
the streets, so that the walking is clean and
hard.
I am better -off" than I expected. I like my
rooms. I think I can help my government.
I am rid of the Flavie-Harnay complications.
My sovereign seems contented with my reports.
My mornings are spent at my work and in
attendance at the palace or at the foreign
ministry. At three the twilight creeps on ; one
winds one's lamp and then goes out visiting
until dinner-time. Then a ball or a play
and supper. They are beginning to organize
troika parties. Mrs. Acton should try the
troika. She would like the rush of it, if she
be a true American. Only to think that I do
not even know her petit 110m ! I will wager it
is a peculiar one, like herself. I will not forget
to ask her.
The streets are bright to-day with walkers
and equipages. I enjoy the excitement of this
A Diplomat's Diary, 77
rapid driving through the nipping air. It is
capital fun. One forgets one is living on a
morass. How despotic was the construction
of Petersburg ! One man's isolated act, build-
ing on a hopeless waste, surrounded by endless
uncultivated plains. Who can tell how much
of the mystic sadness, the strength and
patience of the Russian of to-day may be
traced to the fact that his culture and his
government come to him from this Baltic-girt
ce-bound city, spring from a cruel fight with
the forces of nature, and are in their very birth
a sacrifice ? Petersburg was a work of genius.
To create is to suffer !
Later.—It is decided that all the military
shall go to The masked ball en bourgeois.
Women have told me I looked well in citizen s
clothes. If Mrs. Acton be there will she re-
cognize me, I wonder ! These were my reflec-
tions as I struggled into my dress suit and
white cravat. To myself I looked like a dissi-
pated old dandy. Ohimk!
78 A Diplomat's Diary.
What a queer effect a bal masqni produces
upon one's first entrance ! The Tziganes had
been hired to amuse the company, and were
still singing their wild ditties when I arrived
about one o'clock. There seemed to be much
gaiety among the merry maskers, but some-
how I could not feel the slightest breath of
excitement or of entrain. I leaned wearily for
some time against a column, watching the
varied scene, when suddenly Berg passed and
jostled me in the crowd, with a tall domino
upon his arm, to whom he was discoursing in
animated Russian. It impressed me that she
did not understand a word that he was saying.
She seemed listless and distraite.
She wore a long rich grey garment, made
like a coat, with high puffed sleeves, opening
over a pale yellow skirt; it was richly em-
broidered about the throat and wrists. Her
small head was closely shrouded in white laces,
and she wore a yellow satin mask. It was a
striking costume enough, and people turned to
A Diplomat's Diary. 79
look at her. It was made so as to disguise
somewhat, although it could not conceal the
lines of her figure.
After passing me she seemed to hesitate a
moment, then left Berg abruptly, and, turning
away from him and gliding swiftly up to me,
slipped her hand through my arm. The Grand
Dukes stopped to speak with me at this mo-
ment, and addressed a few words of gallantry
to my companion, but she did not deign to
reply to them, only clinging a little closer to
my side.
" Whom do you seek ?" she whispered at
last, in an unnatural key.
" Really," I said, nonchlaantly, " I am ex-
pecting no one. Petersburg holds few interests
to me, and I merely looked in at this ball as
a civility to our hostess, Madame Soltikoff."
She pulled a pencil out from the gold girdle
which was drawn about her waist, and a tiny
ivory tablet, and wrote, " I was admiring your
enthusiasm! "
8o A Diplomat's Diary.
" My enthusiasm ? "
"Yes. You were looking about with an
expression of idiotic pleasure when I rescued
you from your contemplations."
" Seriously, have you seen any woman here
to-night whose masked loveliness seemed to
attract me ? Did I look as if I were waiting
for some one ?"
She shrugged her shoulders, and did not
reply.
While we had so spoken we had wandered
from among the throng which gathered about
the dance-rooms and the buffets, into a little
boudoir whose cool loveliness had not yet
been invaded. My companion drew her arm
from mine, and seated herself with a sigh
upon a low couch which stood invitingly near.
It was wide enough for two, although not very
wide, and I slipped into it by her side. All
the ennui was gone now.
" How nice you look like that, dressed like
a man of the world," she said.
A Diplomat"s Diary. 81
''What! really?" I' felt myself blushing
with delight,—turning mahogany colour, as my
brother Marc fraternally remarks, when I am
flushed with sentiment.
" And you ?" I said, secretly exhilarated
by the contact of her shoulder, and a queer
delicious perfume which came to me in wafts
from her laces and hair, and which made me
just a bit dizzy,—" and you, are you very
beautiful to-night ?"
For all answer she drew off her gloves from
her strong, white hands, and, disentangling her
mask, pulled it off suddenly and cast it from
her upon a distant seat.
"Ugh!" she said, raising her arms to re-
adjust her disordered headgear, and, with a
funny little groan, "I was half stifled;" and
she drew the lace back tightly across her fore-
head just above her brow. Her profile seen
thus coiffed like an Eastern woman struck me
with its delicacy and fineness. Her cheeks
were all aflame from the heat of the mask,
G
82 A Diplomat's Diary.
her half-open lips looked red like blood.
How little women know the power of such
disarray! She was an entirely different be-
ing from the lady of the court ball ; she
seemed much nearer to me. A wild desire
to crush and hurt her seized me, to deepen
the flame on her cheeks, to awaken some
sentiment of love or of hate in those sleepy
eyes.
"You are a pretty woman," I said, scanning
her critically from head to foot with an imperti-
nent audacity at which I myself marvelled,
"but you are scarcely beautiful. Not one of
those women of whom one says, 'she is
possessed of a dazzling seduction.' "
She remained silent for a moment, and then
languidly turned towards me, raising her face
up almost to the level of my own. She
opened those half-closed lids at last widely
upon me and shot into my soul a glance
whose lightning ran through my senses like
fire. I can give no idea to any one who has
A Diplomat's Diary. 83
never seen this expression of Mrs. Acton's
face, of its peculiar power. There would
indeed be a lack of pudenr if a woman could
so unveil herself often, and she inspires me
with enough confidence to believe that to
the many it has" never been revealed. All the
anguish, all the hallucinations of a man's
maddest desire leaped within me into life.
In another moment the lids were lowered
with their impenetrable veil, and a sense of
loss fell upon me.
" Are you sure ?" she asked, and her voice
was but a breath.
" No."
She had resented my insolence with her
own weapons. She was avenged. At this
moment peals of boisterous laughter broke
upon our solitude. Lady Xavier, ill con-
cealed under her red domino, followed by
half a dozen young attaches, the Princesse
Nikitenko, my late partner of the dance,
and old Prince Suwaroff swarmed into our
G 2
84 A Diplomat's Diary.
boudoir. Distant music followed faintly after
them.
It is needless to say that for the rest of the
evening I remained spellbound by her side.
Before we parted I asked her her name.
"Daphne," she said.
When I reached my rooms I tried to reason
with and laugh at myself. Nothing could be
more unfortunate and inopportune for me
than a serious preference. Mrs. Acton is
either a very ingenuous, innocent, and impru-
dent young woman, or a diabolic coquette
whom one had better avoid. I shall not try
to solve the enigma. Of course I am not a
beardless boy or a stick, to remain insensible
under such a challenge. I am forced, unwill-
ingly, to admit that she is eminently occupying
and disturbing ; that she is not insignificant,
like the majority of her sex, nor one of those
women with whom one can " amuse" one's
self, and that she is distinctly a danger; yet I
propose to remain heart-free, apd I fancy that
A Diplomat's Diary. 85
the wiser course will be to give a wide berth to
this extraordinary enchantress.
January 26.—"The street fires are lit, Herr
Graff," said Gustav, when he opened my cur-
tains, " and we have four degrees."
This looks hopeful for the review to-morrow.
Frozen noses and feet in the service of Mars !
but when I got a little sunshine into my room,
and a cup of coffee and my kalatch, it was not
so very terrible. A strong smell of chypre
pervaded my breakfast-tray, and under my
official mail and despatches lay a tiny pink
note, with a silver heart pierced by a dagger
on the envelope. It was a rodomontade from
Madame Nathalie,—the third that I have re-
ceived since her visit. I wonder how much
longer this bombardment will continue ! She
considers I have treated her ill; I have not
called upon her ; I have not been to the thea-
tre; I have not answered her letters ; I
have not lent her the books she asked**for.
What books ? Finally, she admires and reveres
86, A Diplomat's Diary.
me. When will I let her come to breakfast
again ? Then I find a tiny, timid letter from
Flavie. She has had the brilliants taken from
the book-mark I sent her and set into a ring.
The devil take her and her mawkish folly ! I
am her true, best, only friend,—except Madame
Harnay, the old hypocrite! Papa has the
gout, and is, oh, so cross ! And will I write
soon. She remains devotedly my friend, Flavie,
Princesse of S. V.
So much for the ladies. Of the contents of
my official mail I write nothing here. Stoffel
has not understood my last letters. Bon ! it is
all to do over. I feel dull, and have a cold in
my head. I don my shuba and goloshes and
go out for a walk ; but I am lazy and tired, and
I hail an isvoztchik at the street corner. The
isvoztchik is so fat that he keeps my feet warm,
and as ve dash at full speed through the
Fourschtatskaia I have an experience : all the
blood leaves my heart suddenly,—it gives a
wild leap. My lips become dry and parched ;
A Diplomat's Diary. 87
fingers of iron seem to be clutching at my
throat; my limbs grow numb and tremble.
As suddenly these peculiarly unpleasant sen-
sations subside, and leave me a helpless limp
mass clinging to the strap of my gani with
one hand and to my driver's belt with the
other. He cries " Birigui!n to a hapless
passer-by, shows his teeth, and urges on his
horse, thinking undoubtedly that the Barin is
in a hurry.
Now what was the cause of this curious
nervous spasm ? Simply this : I caught sight
of a brown shuba, bordered with dark furs, and
enveloping the slender form of . . .
Is it possible ? No, it is not possible, yet no
man of my years is entirely a novice to such
symptoms. She was walking with her aunt.
They were entirely unconscious of my pre-
sence. But is it, or is it not, as I say, possible
that such a slight cause should produce so
powerful an effect, and so upset a person of
my health and vigour ? What can it mean ?
88 A Diplomat's Diary.
If I were younger, if I was not disillusioned,
if I had not thoroughly acknowledged my
satiety of life, I should say . . . but, no ! At
any rate, it is an extremely peculiar psycho-
logical fact. I ordered my isvoztchik to drive on
anywhere, everywhere. We seemed to go very
far; my teeth chattered. Finally he pulls up
at a monastery porch, and mumbles in Russian
that there is a fine " something " going on in
there which the Bavin should see for himself.
I spring out of the sleigh into a snow-drift,
uncover, and go in. The Sisters are holding
a service, and the church is dark, save where
the wax-lights glitter at the altar and before
the sacred Icons. This is, I perceive, a very
aristocratic sisterhood, of whom I think I have
heard it said that a demoiselle Oblensky is
Mother Superior. Many of them show their
birth and elegance even under the austere garb
in which they move and stand in the nave
together. The music is low and plaintive. I
am offered a lighted taper; I take it ; at a
A Diplomat's Diary. 89
certain moment we all turn them down, and
they go out. I kneel for a moment before I go
forth into the sunshine. I utter no prayer, but
calm has returned to me ; the fever is past.
Thank God !
What could they be doing in the Fourschtat-
skaia at that hour ? Perhaps they were going
to breakfast with the Princesse Vera, who lives
at No. 30. It is the most ridiculous nonsense !
I never heard of such a thing ! I mean ... I
don't know what I mean !
When I come in, instead of settling down to
business and to the gruesomeness of my reports,
I am utterly restless and demoralized, and I
finally write a short note and direct it to
Madame Lucien Acton, Americanskoe Posol-
stvo. No woman has ever before so interfered
with my duties. I do not say this boastfully,
for I have not had a high enough opinion of
the sex.
My note is merely a formal announcement
that I shall do myself the honour of calling
go A Diplomat's Diary.
upon her at five, and a request that she will let
me know if she can receive me. As there is no
earthly visible reason why I should not call at
the legation, it will be very evident to her that
my letter is only a trap to secure something
from her,—anything. A silly, vulgar trap,
written over three times, endlessly corrected,
and awkwardly enough expressed in the end.
My charming enemy, however, does not fall
into the trap. I begin to think her unat-
tractively clever. I wait and I wait. Narish-
kine is announced, and, as he talks, I
watch the door. Gustav enters with some
eau de Seltz.
" Quick ! " I say, " the answer to that note!"
Gustav stares, Narishkine stares, I stare.
" There is no note ; they said there was no
answer."
Four o'clock comes. N. takes his departure.
I make an excuse to accompany him as far
as the porter's lodge. I tap at the latter's
window.
A Diplomat's Diary. 91
"Has a note come for me? Adno pismo?
'adnopismo?"
" Niet ! Niet u pism ! "
I seize him roughly by the shoulder and
shake him.
" Quick," I say, " fellow, disgorge that note
you must be hiding somewhere!"
He disengages himself, rubs his head, and
evidently believes the Barin is crazy or drunk.
I mumble a feeble apology, say there is a mis-
take, and give him three roubles. He takes the
money and closes the door carefully, putting
himself well out of my reach, and peeping
cautiously out through the pane of glass at
which he reconnoitres the campaign of life,
observes me furtively as I go back slowly to my
apartments.
I have an extremely bad quarter of an hour.
Has she taken offence ? Was she really angry
last night ? and did she only conceal her vexa-
tion for future revenge ? Was my note an
improper one ? How can I tell what her point
9 5 A Diplomats Diary.
of view upon these questions may be ? Too
warm ? Too cold ? Five o'clock comes, and
I have lashed myself into a condition of
miserable anxiety. I order my sleigh, and
am driven to the legation.
" Is Madame Acton at home ?" I am too
impatient even to name Mrs. North.
" Oui, monsieur." The Chasseur Alexei
smiles and ushers me upstairs. " Madame is
in the boudoir." He pushes the heavy por-
tiere slightly, and, announcing me, retires.
I enter, but there is no goddess in the
temple ; only a scent of lilies, and a bright fire
in the open hearth. I am about to turn and
call him back, when through another curtain
which hangs before a smaller side door I hear
a few chords struck on a piano and a rich voice
breaks forth into song.
I have found the song since, and I give it
here as it fell for the first time upon my ears :
" Bois frissonnant, ciel dtoile,
Mon bien aimd s'en est alld,
Emportant mon coeur d£sole.
A Diplomat's Diary. 93
" Le premier jour qu'il vint ici
Mon ame fut h sa merci;
De fierte je n'eus plus souci.
" Mon regard £tait plein d'aveux,
II me prit dans ses bras nerveux,
Et me baisa pr£s des cheveux.
" J'en eus un long fr^missement,
Et puis, je ne sais plus comment
II est devenu mon amant.
" Je lui disais,1 Tu m'aimeras
Aussi longtemps que tu pourras ?'
Je ne dormais bien qu'en ses bras.
" Mais lui, sentant son coeur eteint,
S'en est alle, l'autre matin,
Sans moi! dans un pays lointain."
Oh, who could paint the inexpressive reck-
lessness with which this daughter of the Puri-
tans sang! The timid awakening of the first
verse, the pent-up fires of the-second, the agony
and despair of the last.
I stood rooted to the spot, and my heart
fluttered with pleasure, like a school-boy's, but
the blood which flowed through, my veins was
not a boy's. As I listened to the intoxicating
accents of this creature, who was so near me
94 A Diplomats Diary.
and yet unconscious of my presence, I pic-
tured to myself that in a moment she would
stand beside me, when I too, like the lover in
the song, would seize her in my arms and kiss
her hair. I wanted to wring and hurt her
strong long fingers in mine, to crush her close
against me, until she shrunk and cried for
mercy.
Mine is not a fierce nature. On the field my
heart bleeds for the wounded enemy. I am
kind and tender with women, but I can hardly
depict the delirium Daphne had awakened in
me by her strange singing. The curtain was
suddenly pulled back with an energetic hand.
" Tiers ! " she said, entering, " is it you ? "
I thought I had never seen her looking so
unapproachable, and my heart sank. Even
her dress was discouraging. She was clad all
in black, in sombre folds of heavy plush, which
threw out in startling contrast the fairness of
her throat. She motioned me to a seat, and
herself assumed a somewhat studied majesty of
A Diplomat's Diary.
95
pose in a corner of the sofa, which was drawn
close to the fire. Her eyes were cold, and
rested upon me like ice.
" Why did you not answer my letter ? " I
began, with a certain bitterness, asking myself
if this woman and the songstress could indeed
be the same.
"Your letter? . . . Oh!—did it require a
reply ?"
I thought of my restless afternoon, and
groaned.
"Are you ill ? " she said.
"Yes," I said, "very."
She laughed. " Why, you look so white you
really quite frighten me."
" Do I, madame ? I did not imagine myself
very alarming. I assure you you are quite
safe."
She leaned her - head back against the
laces of a soft cushion, with her chin up a
little and the firelight on her bright brown
hair.
g6 A Diplomat's Diary.
" What news from . . . your court ?" she
asked, lightly, with that gift of changing the
subject which is so peculiarly her own, and as
if desiring to avoid personal talk.
" Oh, nothing in particular," I replied, hav-
ing regained my sang fvoid; "only I am always
anxious about my adored Emperor. If he
should be taken- "
" He is very old," she said, laconically.
" Of course," I answered, a little angered at
her manner, " it is impossible for an American
to enter into our feelings."
"Yes, thank God," she said, dryly, and in a
staccato voice which I did not recognize as her
own. " We are not an exalte people."
" That means, I suppose, that we are ? "
She made no reply.
" My Emperor has been for many years the
one great pure affection of my heart, and of his
people's," I added, a little pompously.
" A peculiar affection, to wish him to suffer."
" / wish him to suffer ? "
A Diplomat's Diary. 97
" Why, yes," she said, impatiently. " Do you
suppose life is amusing when one is nearly one
hundred, and one has no teeth nor hair nor
anything ? Only family quarrels and political
brawls for one's entertainment ? "
" You are hard upon us, madame."
She smothered a yawn behind her hand.
" For myself, I like the display and splen-
dours of a court," she continued ; "but the
people all seem puppets and mountebanks,
made for my especial entertainment, and
they impress me, a republican, with not one
whit of reverence or awe. I suppose that is
hard for them and their sycophants. Why,
since I left America I have only met one
man ! "
" I fear I am . . . boring you," I said, stiffly.
"Pardon me if I intruded;" and I rose. Her
tone was so disobliging that I could hardly
remain with dignity.
" I suppose if you, for instance," she con-
tinued, not noticing my movement, " were
II
9 8 A Diplomat's Diary.
ordered to kill some one, or to . . . marry
some one, you would have to obey instantly."
I could not help laughing. " If I had the
right to tell you of a recent episode of my
career you would absolve me at least from the
charge of such abject servitude."
" I don't doubt it would be very interesting,"
she answered, mockingly.
"But," I continued, irritated, "while I am
not too proud to be one of the puppets to
dance for your amusement I fear at present I
am a failure even in this role, and will therefore
bid you good-evening."
"You will not wait for tea ? " she said, with
a slight compunction. As I weakly hesitated
a moment she made a gesture as if she would
detain me.
" Let us speak seriously for a moment,
madame," I said. "Men of my world have
told me I possessed tact. The mission which
brought me to this country is one which re-
quires discreet and delicate handling. It could
A Diplomats Diary. 99
hardly have been entrusted to a blunderer,
but in you I find a riddle that baffles all my
experience, and while it is undoubtedly well
worth the reading I fear I have not the
requisite courage to attempt the task. All the
odds would be against me. I will leave its
unravelling to the one fortunate ' man' to
whom you alluded a moment since."
" He does not care," she faltered, faintly.
"That," I replied, "is hardly possible, if
your eyes have rested upon him, in approval,
even for a passing moment. Of myself I have
nothing further to say. When you did not
deign to answer my note the cruelty and
neglect should have opened my eyes to the
fact that I am importunate and unwelcome. Ah,
if you only knew, madame, with what respect
and humility it was written, and with what im-
patience and longing I awaited your bidding ! "
" I take no lessons in behaviour!" She
looked at me haughtily, but I noticed that her
lips trembled.
n 2
ioo A Diplomat's Diary.
"I offer none," I replied. "I only with-
draw. I came, unbidden, because to stay away
seemed death, and, just now, when I listened
to your beautiful voice, I thought myself in
heaven. My mind was full of thoughts I
wished to express to you. My heart, oh, I
wish that my heart might have been bared to
you ! It was overflowing ! I had so much to
say to you, but the disillusion and disappoint-
ment have been complete." An extraordi-
nary emotion shook me. I turned away from
her that she should not see how unmanned I
\yas.
When I looked at her again imagine my
amazement when suddenly, yes, there could
be no doubt, two .large drops detached them-
selves front under her eyelashes, ran slowly
down her cheeks and fell upon her hands,
which were clasped together across her knees.
I sprang towards her, my sword clanking
against her chair. " My child," I said, " Jiave
I wounded you ?"
A Diplomats Diary. 101
" Count Berg," announced Alexei ; and then
others came: Mrs. North, complaining of the
cold ; Mr. North, talkative and a trifle prolix ;
Madame de Barythine, still gossiping about
her niece Wasia, the Oblensky diamonds, and
her dead lord's mausoleum.
I sat rooted to the spot, meekly absorbing
tea and little cakes, agreeing with everybody,
feebly, mildly, unutterably imbecile. Mrs.
Acton, on the contrary, was sparkling, original,
and gay, developing those peculiar gifts \and
graces which fit her so eminently for the salon.
She possesses to a rare degree the facility of
turning from the discussion of serious topics to
that of adorable fatuities.
I remember some remarks she made apropos
of the Latin and Anglo-Saxon races : " I like
the Russians," she was saying, " because they
are nearer to me. The Slav I can understand,
but between us and the Latins is a great gulf,
impassable. Why, look at it! The marriages
are hardly ever happy, and even friendships
102 A Diplomat's Diary.
are at best halt and lame. We shall always
speak a different language, and forever mis-
understand each other. Between myself, ma
tante" she said, turning to Mrs. North, "and
my friend, Heloise de St. Pierre, for instance,
there is a sincere affection, much mutual
regard, and yet with it all a secret antagonism
which I have always felt will explode some
day and bury all our past beneath its ruins.
They are prudent, narrow, calculating. We
are reckless, wild, fond of change. It is not
only the education and the customs, but the
temperament is absolutely different."
Berg, with his mouth full of cake, thought
all humanity was the same; only individual
sentiments differed. He was glad, however,
that he was himself a Saxon, and therefore
satisfactory, and fully able to appreciate Mrs.
Acton's brilliant opinions; to which she re-
plied, " Ah !" with a sarcastic inflection which
did me good.
I left by-and-by with the others, merely ex-
A Diplomat's Diary.
103
changing a formal farewell with Mrs. Acton.
When I got into the street I put my hand to
my head. One thing is certain : I shall be
much happier. The struggle is over : I love
her!
I remembered- that I had always thought
what I desired and admired most in a woman
was great simplicity, and—I laughed.
Jantiary 26.—Strangers meet, they gauge
each other: one is master.
More courage is required to avoid temptation
than to give it battle. Love is not a malady,
but a plenitude of health, of happy body and
mind. Why, then, try to escape ? Is it not
better to love even unwisely than . . . not ?
How glorious to hope and to fear! Some
women have an eloquence in their whole per-
sons which touches and sets vibrating chords
lying wrapped away in the veriest secret re-
cesses of the heart, but women are bonrgcoise
in their'judgments of each other. They can-
not understand. They think beauty or wit
104 Diplomat"s Diary.
will master us. No, mesdames, the mystery
lies deeper. What masters us is the promise
that some women seem to make to us,—the
promise to slake that thirst for rapture which
every imaginative soul craves. Yet—do we
really possess them as wholly as those who
promise less ? and will they not keep from us
an eternal secret, — a something altogether
vague and illusive ? What is even the closest
nearness of two bodies if the essence escapes ?
Do we know for five minutes at a time what
these creatures are thinking about ?
What pain for a passionate heart to know
itself insufficient for the heart it loves! Me-
diocre people have no such fears. They come
to the great feasts of life without humility and
without distrust; but people of high, delicate
organizations and sensitive pride turn with
question from the banquet.
One thing I have learned : passion is patient.
Those who say otherwise lie !
I walked last night in a distant dvor\ far
A Diplomat's Diary. 105
from the fashionable thoroughfares. I like to
see near at hand, to study, this strange, triste,
laborious people, to mix in the motley crowd
of these men, innocent of bath and sponge,
their blood burned with vodka, reeking with
perspiration, with the rank odours of old sheep-
skin garments, and with their wild matted
hair and beards, from which shine out their
sad searching eyes. The girls and women,
with their large hips and bosoms, are straight,
powerful, strong-handed, with foolish mouths,
and teeth whose early decay is doubtless due
to the exposure of sleeping in damp court-
yards and to drinking the marsh waters. I
have always had this taste for contact with
absolute nature. I am a romantic realist. I
like to peer into their rugged faces. There is
something mystic about the Russian to me ;
even among the most miserable and ignorant
there is an element of spirituality, a certain
width with a lack of clearness. They are as
misty as their own horizons. Some clever
io6 A Diplomat"s Diary.
man has said, " Place the Latin and the Slav
before a spy-glass : the former shortens it to
suit his vision, sees clearly and distinctly; the
latter develops the full force of the lens, and
reaches farther, but more confusedly." So
when we study them we must employ their
own methods.
To-day took place the review in my honour.
The troops formed on the Winter Palace
square, every one in full-dress uniform, bright
arms, and the horses' shoes sparkling like
polished glass on the silvery snow, which flew
up like dust under a hundred hoofs,—a fine
effect! There was a pink glow on St. Isaac's
dome, the lovely spire of the Admiralty, the
casques and cuirasses of the troops, the Dra-
goons, Chevalier Gardes, Gard a Cheval, the
most aristocratic regiment of Russia, Cuiras-
siers, Lancers, the Infantry Preobrajensky, and
the soldiers of Paul, with their flat noses, and
big copper hats,—a proud military array, in-
deed, upon which Western Europe may well
A Diplomat's Diary. 107
keep its eyes. To_ quake is folly, but vigilance
will be wise. A magnificent spectacle, this de-
file of the forces of a vast, picturesque empire.
I rode close to the Czar, his aides following.
We salute the Empress and her ladies, who
are at a window of the palace. " Good-day,
my children!" cries the "Little Father" to
his soldiers. The bands strike up as the Czar
dashes past on his great white horse. After
the inspection the movements begin. We
draw up at the grand entrance, and when all
is over we adjourn to dejeuner; at which, among
other dishes, a splendid sturgeon is brought in
by half a dozen servants on a gold dish. It was
stuffed with a sort of gruel which the peasants
eat, and which the courtiers do not disdain.
Earlier in the day, as I had driven away to
get my horse at the barracks, I had met the
chasseur of the American legation. He hailed
my man Ivan, stopped my sleigh, and gave
me a little note. In romances people anticipate
such delights; in real life they are always un-
io8 A Diplomat's Diary.
expected. I imagined the missive to be a
formal invitation from Mrs. North to join a
troika party the ladies were planning, but the
golden crest and the bold, rather illegible hand-
writing were unknown to me. I unsealed it.
There were only a few words :
"We are at a window of the Etat Major,
and shall look for a salute from you when you
ride past.
" When you meet my uncle at the breakfast
after the review speak with him about our
troika drive. He will tell you all the arrange-
ments.
" Am I forgiven ?
" Daphne Acton."
I put Daphne's letter in my breast, that it
might keep my heart warm, oh, so warm ! I
did not suffer from the cold. I saw my joy at
the window, and sent her a salute. What my
soul sent to her I will not write.
A Diplomat's Diary. 109
Jamtary 29.—I met Mr. North at the palace
breakfast after the review, and while we
smoked he drew me apart and told me that
the ladies wished me to be at the legation at
ten o'clock that evening ; that the party would
meet there and drive in four troikas to supper
at the Islands ; rooms had been engaged, and
even music in case we liked to dance. We
might, if the people came punctually enough,
have time to stop at the Ice Palace, which
his niece had not seen, etc. He seems an
excellent man.
I was at the legation as the clock struck
the hour. I had heralded my arrival to Mrs.
Acton by a gift of lilies.
" Military punctuality," cried Mrs. North,
turning with cordial greeting from her occu-
pation of heaping some roses upon one of the
innumerable etagkres which are placed about
this charming room.
She was alone; how glad I was of it! If
only fifteen minutes' tete-a-tete were accorded
no A Diplomat's Diary.
to us I should' at least know some things
which I waited to hear with almost febrile
anxiety. Is it possible that this lady had
already guessed what occupied my thought!
Had she read in my dark visage the secret of
my growing infatuation ? They say that the
Yankees are a shrewd race. Certain it is that
while she passed hither and thither among
her flowers, with considerable tact, and good
breeding, she managed to give me a sketch
of her niece's past.
" Daphne," she began, " is late, as usual.
Ten minutes ago she was writing letters in
her robe de chambre, with her hair on her
shoulders. She is the most extraordinary
mixture of languor and of energy, calmness,
and unrest. I am sure I don't know where
she'gets her peculiarities. I tell Mr. North
his family is entirely prosaic, commonplace,
and—as people should be,—Mrs. Acton, you
know, is his niece, not mine."
I was so absorbed in her words that as she
A Diplomat's Diary. 111
turned to look at me a moment I saw her
smile.
"You are a good listener," she said. "You
see I take it for granted that she interests
you, as she does every one else. Shall I tell
you something of her strange life ? "
I only bowed. I found it impossible to
speak.
" Daphne was educated in Europe, princi-
pally in France, where her mother made her
home for several years. They had every
advantage, she and her sister. Daphne's
mother had married a man of very large
wealth ; he was a power in our, world of
finance. All our men, you know, have a
serious career. There came a 'panic,' as we
call such a crisis in America, and he lost
everything.
" I think the loss of prestige was more bitter
to him than that of wealth, for he had prided
himself on his great capacity ; every one had
looked up to him. His wife and daughters
ii2 A Diplomat's Diary.
were in Europe at the time. They hurried
home. Daphne was a very romantic girl;
she had not yet been into the world. She
was such a child! I can only thus explain
her marriage ; it is the only excuse. Lucien
Acton was the intimate friend of Daphne's
father, a rich man, unmarried, and his principal
creditor. That was the worst of it. In the
crash others had suffered.
" Mr. Acton was ill then with some incur-
able malady; his physicians had declared he
could not live many months. He had no near
relatives, and he desired to leave all his for-
tune to his friend, to forgive the debt, and
make generous loans immediately. My
brother-in-law would not hear of this. He
was a proud man, and independent. Mr. Acton
had known them all very intimately for
years. He had always been fond of the
children, particularly of Daphne. He had been
much with them abroad, and had interested
himself in their education. I myself never
A Diplomat, s Diary. 113
liked him, but he was very clever. At last he
said, ' Give me Daphne! She shall be my
child for a few days, and then my widow.
That will arrange everything.' It was so like
Lucien Acton. He was a cynic. He always
thought nothing mattered.
" Unfortunately, Daphne's mother, half-
laughingly, said to the girl, ' What do you
think ? Mr. Acton suggests . . . that you
should marry him. He then could help papa,
and it would look less badly to the world.
What a strange idea !' I say ' unfortunately,'
for the words did not fall on unresponsive ears.
In the girl's brain they took seed and flou-
rished. I cannot go into particulars. She ran
away to him, to his rooms, one night, with
her old nurse, who wickedly abetted her, and
another witness, and they sent for a clergyman
and were married. I consider it a crime on
Mr. Acton's part. I never could understand.
I sometimes wonder whether he was desperately
in love with her, and determined that she should
1
H4 A Diplomat's Diary.
have his name. I don't know anything about
it Daphne never opens her lips. People say
he meant well,—that he felt sure he could not
live six weeks. The most awful thing is that
he got better and lived . . . not six weeks,
but ten years ! although always a cripple."
My heart was on fire ; my hands like ice.
" And her parents ?" I asked, coldly.
" They were violently angry at first, and for
a long time, but . . . what will you have ? "
Mrs. North put a finishing touch to a vase
upon the mantelpiece at my side, and then
drew away to see its effect.
" The most intense rancunes," she continued,
leaving her flowers to seat herself near the
fire at my side,—" the most intense rancunes
have to end. We are all weak and vacillating
at the best, and—shall I admit it ?—not in-
sensible, I fear, to material success. When
Daphne developed into a leader of fashion, and
was distinguished and sought after by all the
most elegant men and women of her coterie,
A Diplomat's Diary. 115
as the years went by, all had to be accepted.
I am afraid that perhaps they felt just a little
pride in her. She made her young sister the
fashion, too, and married her well.
" I must say Lucien Acton behaved nobly
to her. ' My dear,' he used to say, ' I can
never forgive myself for not having died when
I ought, but you will bear with me to the end.
It cannot be for long.' On dit that all their
relationship consisted in his being wheeled
into her boudoir to see her dressed for balls.
He was very undemonstrative in his manner
towards her. He would coldly criticize her
gowns and her jewels ; tell her if she was too
dkolletee, give her a little worldly advice as
to behaviour, and then be wheeled out again by
his valet. But I think there was a much
deeper influence, and a much more unfortu-
nate one ; his was a very brilliant mind, and
influenced hers. I think he gave her false
ideas of life. It was all very unnatural. She
was too young to be fed upon the mental
I 2
116 A Diplomat's Diary.
pabulum which suited a man of his years and
intellect. He was a man of no religion. His
principal recreation from his literary pursuits,
to which he dedicated the greater part of his
hours, was cards. He used to have his friends
every afternoon, Sundays included, and they
passed all the late afternoons at play. I am
very old-fashioned ; I think such things quite
wicked and dreadful. Yet I am told that his
crippled condition was owing to an injury to
his spine, sustained when he saved the lives of
some children from a fire at a summer water-
ing-place. So, evidently the man had fine
traits of character. One must not be too
harsh." Mrs. North sighed.
" He was certainly an agreeable companion,
a thorough man of the world, polished as
steel. I must admit that he placed Daphne in
a splendid position, and she never would hear
one word. She revered his cleverness, and
thought him the very embodiment of honour.
Of course she had imagined an act of
A Diplomat's Diary. 117
romantic heroism in sacrificing herself for her
family. Young girls have these silly fancies.
When it was not appreciated she felt bitterly
towards them, and it took some time for the
breach to heal. But, as I say, we all have a
worldly side. I may do them injustice, but I
think Daphne's success dazzled them at last,
and had much to do with the final reconcilia-
tion which they earnestly sought. Her life
certainly did not look a failure. He gave her
absolute liberty."
I listened breathlessly, in momentary dread
of interruption.
" There is not much more to tell. He died
three years ago. She is very rich. I admire
Daphne excessively. I think her most attrac-
tive. She entirely fascinates me. I am not
sure that I love her. I should rather pity any
man who did." Here Mrs. North stopped
short with a little nervous laughter, and there
was a pause. Did its pulsations hold a warn-
ing ? After a moment she continued :
I 18 A Diplomat's Diary.
"I hope she will find happiness. She has
had what the world calls luck, but we women
know the difference. I hope she will marry."
"Who would dare?" I murmured.
"Ah !" she replied ; "some very simple per-
son with no theories about her, with no intri-
cacies ; that would be the best. Some good
practical American, I hope. They, after all,
understand their own women the best."
" Few men of any nation," I replied, some-
what nettled, I know not why, "could boast
of fathoming such a nature."
"Yes, she is difficult to read. It would be
better for che man not to try ; only to give her
affection, a lot of affection, and not attempt to
control her. You foreigners," she went on,
smiling, " are neglectful when you don't love,
and far too exacting when you do."
" I should be very exacting."
" I am sure of it," said Mrs. North.
" I think the man should be the head, should
guide."
A Diplomat"s Diary. 119
"Ah! We should call that old-fashioned.
We American women are progressive and
entete." And then a silence fell between us, a
somewhat awkward one. It was interrupted
by the entrance of Mrs. Acton.
As she tripped across the threshold the
words " He gave her entire liberty," were still
ringing in my ears. "Liberty?" Yes; what
had she done with it ? I asked myself.
Notwithstanding her aunt's suggestion that
from her character surprises might be antici-
pated, when I looked up at her I felt a pang
of disappointment. What had I expected ?
But yesterday I had heard her sing a song-that
had put fire in my veins. Then she had lifted
the curtain and stood before me a woman of
marble. To-day I fain would have seen on
her young forehead the crown of sacrifice of
which I had been told^ whose innocent sub-
limity had profoundly moved me. I would
have liked to see the traces of tears 011 her
young face and its memories in her eyes.
120 A Diplomat's Diary.
Instead of this, by one of those tricks fate
loves to play on us, she never appeared to me
less . . . intricate, if I may so express myself.
She stepped in lightly, her only laurels the
charming coquetry with which she had wound
a soft bashlik, embroidered and tasselled with
gold, low about her hair. Her simple dark
costume gave her a peculiarly girlish appear-
ance, and she seemed in excellent spirits, and
more engrossed with the practical details of
our excursion than with matters of deeper
sentiment. I almost hated her for her gaiety.
Was it possible, I asked myself, that all these
things about her could be true ! My only con-
solation was that she wore my lilies at her
bosom. But I was so agitated by all that I
had heard, and there seemed so little rapport
between my present mood and her own, that I
felt no courage to approach and thank her for
this piece of sweet feminine flattery. Just then
came a rustle of skirts and sound of voices, and
a bevy of pretty women fluttered in, followed
A Diplomat's Diary. 121
by a half-dozen men or so. Suwaroff, Berg,
the Princesse Soltikoff, little Madame Wassilii,
and others. Just before we took our places in
the troikas Mrs. North managed to whisper a
word to me :
"You may be surprised, monsieur, that I
should have spoken to you, an entire stranger,
on these family matters. We Americans are
not prone to be expansive. It is not a national
trait, but I did not know what stories you
might hear. Mrs. Acton's marriage created
much comment at the time. She has not lived
in -a corner, and the world is very small. I
only wished you to know what all may know.
You have from the first inspired me with con-
fidence; I hear golden opinions of you ; am
glad to welcome you to our house. I feel that
you will not misjudge me."
I could only press her hand warmly and
thank her for her goodness and her faith in
me, assuring her never to give her cause of
regret. To myself this seemed suddenly to
122 A Diplomats Diary.
loom up into a sacred pledge, with responsi-
bilities which made me a trifle uneasy.
I had hardly realized my happiness when
I found Mrs. Acton was beside me. In the
narrow vehicles into which the party was
somewhat overcrowded we were forced into
close proximity. Nothing can ever paint the
delirium of that drive. I hardly know what
occurred. We stopped at the Ice Palace, and
she and I and the others—were there others ?—
wandered into its cold spaces. I told her the
story of the thoughtless courtiers who locked
up one of their number, with his bride, to pass
the night in its white chambers, and who, in
the morning hours, found the prisoners dead
and stiff. " I have always thought," I said,
"that young man must have been strangely
lacking in ardour." Like a child, Mrs. Acton
wished to be drawn by the reindeer across the
palace grounds, and, reclining on furs on the
low sledges, our party was carried about and
around this fairy castle. I only know I was
A Diplomat's Diary. 123
forced to hold her once by one of her delicate
wrists, for fear she should slip off into the snow-
drifts. Afterwards in the troika once more,
borne away again, as if into untried regions,
untasted sensations, unexplored worlds, away
to the Islands, through the windless night.
Oh, never-to-be-forgotten excursion !
Coming home late, when the dance, the
supper, the music were all over, I almost held
her in my arms in the soft balancement of
the rushing sleigh. I imagined that I could
feel her heart-pulses ; I was very careful not
to offend, fearful as always of incurring her
displeasure. She did not herself know how
close she "was to me. Once my spur became
entangled in her skirt. I stooped with un-
gloved hand to disentangle it. She had her-
self taken off her glove to readjust a lock of
recreant hair fluttering from beneath her veil.
I handed her her muff, lost in the movement.
Our fingers met, clung one instant together.
Can such a shock send forth no responding
124 A Diplomat's Diary.
vibration ? Is it possible that what I felt was
wholly unshared ? I know not, but this I
know : twice she placed me beside her in the
troika. Only once during that blissful night
there fell a shadow between us : as 1 looked
down at her lovely face, framed in its high fur
collar, nestling so close to mine, she asked me
whom I should dance with at the coming ball.
"Mademoiselle Taillefere," I answered,
" whom I engaged for the cotillon long before
I ever met you, madame."
" Ah ! " she said ; " I have not seen her. Is
she . . . very nice ? "
" She does not particularly interest me," I
replied.
" Why did you choose her, • then ?she con-
tinued with childlike insistence.
" Oh, I don't know," I answered, carelessly.
" Probably because she has a beautiful figure."
It was a stupid speech, uttered without
thought, for my blood was in my brain. I
noticed that she drew away a little, and de-
A Diplomat's Diary. 125
voted herself at least twenty minutes to Berg,
who sat at her right. I am not conceited by
nature, and racked my mind to imagine why
she had grown so silent towards me. It was
only afterwards, upon reflection, that I thought
perhaps she had not liked what I had said. I
cursed Mademoiselle Taillefere, my dulness of
perception, and the vulgarity of the remark
which had lost me a moment of those precious
hours. But if it were true that the words really
hurt her,—if it were true, if it were true, what a
wcrld of ecstasy this has become !
While she leaned towards Berg I looked at her,
and I understood well that one might sacrifice
everything to be loved by her, to awaken
and warm this proud, delicate creature with the
fires of passion. For this I felt that one would
throw duty, life, nay, honour itself, to the winds.
Yes, I, who have lived so long for ambition
only, felt as if to possess her for an hour I would
follow her like a dog to the ends of the earth,
casting my career and my hopes behind me.
126 A Diplomat's Diary.
After our hands had touched she came back
to me, the gcliebtes, but nevertheless there was
a subtle change in her attitude towards me,
and her manner, which had been once or
twice divinely coquettish, was tinged with a
fine hauteur. I longed to tell her how much I
loved her, but something held me back and
paralyzed my tongue, and she was, I thought,
tacitly grateful to me for my reserve. At any
rate I shall take an early opportunity to ex-
plain to her how I loathe Mademoiselle Taille-
fere, who is very plain, and even ill-shapen,
for so I consider her beside my goddess.
February I.—My intoxication has fallen!
To-night I look into the future. What does
it hold ? To pass one's life beside such a
being, to leave to her delicate tact the man-
agement of all social intricacies, to sleep and
wake and know one's self so safe, with time
for serious work, while she watched near, her
voice, her step, her song in one's ears,—what
a heaven! Yet something says to me, "She
A Diplomats Diary. 127
is not for thee." I know that I love her,
because I am profoundly miserable. To realize
that she is in Petersburg, so near me, and
that I cannot always be with her, cannot fall
at her feet, cannot hold her in my arms,—
what anguish !
I shall see her to-night at the Odoiefifskys'
and adore her at a distance; shall see her
officially, surrounded by others, by younger,
handsomer fellows, these dashing young Rus-
sian officers, the pampered darlings of the
women, far better fitted than I to touch and
fascinate her imagination. How old and
weary and bassanl my face looks near her fair
fresh one! The battle-fields have left their
traces. Humph! Women love youth. Ah,
Daphne, I am to-day only a tired old war-
horse, whom it would be a mercy to put out
of his pain! Give me the death-thrust, dear,
before you leave me! for—you will leave
me ... I feel it. Such bliss as love of yours
is not for me. I am too much stained with
128 A Diplomat's Diary.
living-, with the smoke of battle and the fires
of the world. Your love would be as a stream
of pure water in which to lave soiled gar-
ments ; it would refresh, rejuvenate, purify an
unworthy past. When I am near her, youth
returns, and romance. I grow pure. I trem-
ble. I could weep. Why has she roused
this longing to hold htr close, to fold her to
myself, if it is never to be gratified ? I am
devoured with unrest!
The women are jealous of her. This after-
noon they gossiped about her over their tea-
tables. These women, who have had lovers
by the score, dared to criticize my darling!
Odoieffsky, the beast, had tattled of her. He
said to her, " I saw you at the opera, ma-
dame."
"Yes," she had replied, " I observed it."
" I am desolated, madame, if my admiration
of you was too pronounced, if I looked at you
too constantly."
" Oh, pray don't distress yourself, monsieur,"
A Diplomat's Diary. 129
she had replied. " It is quite unnecessary.
That is what I go out for."
Everybody was shocked. The men winked
at one another and shrugged their shoulders.
The women exclaimed, " Les Americaines
sont & tin tel point mat elevee! What!
they are without shame!" and rolled up
their eyes, duly scandalized, until the whites
appeared.
A shrill voice came to the rescue.
" Who knows ? Perhaps it was exaggerated.
She might not have said such a thing. If she
did it was certainly atrocey
But I knew that she had said it, because it
was exactly like her, angel that she is, and a
flood of passionate loyalty rose to my lips, and
a flush overspread my entire face, for which I
cursed myself inwardly.
" Do you think that she really said it ? " per-
sisted the last speaker, turning to me. "You
know her very well, I believe ? "
"Yes," I replied, "I am sure that she did,
K
130 A Diplomat's Diary.
madame, and it would be as difficult to defend
her as it is impossible to imitate her."
There was an embarrassing moment of
silence, for my tone had a ring that the ladies
did not relish. There was a murmur, and some
dagger-glances.
" Men admire these oddities," said Madame
Wassilii, with elevated eyebrow.
"Yes, madame, they do, for to be with an
enchantress like Mrs. Acton is as if one should
turn from listening to the screaming chatter
of little tame popinjays to watch the evolutions
of some splendid wild white sea-bird."
"Ah ! il est pris /" cried the women, in sharp
concerto. " Pince'!" And I became the target
for their pitiless raillery, not untinged with
resentment.
I did manage with certain artifices of gal-
lantry, not unnecessarily learned in my career,
to patch up some sort of a peace with my
persecutors, and to extricate myself from an
awkward position. I had shown too much
A Diplomat's Diary. 131
heat, and had been perhaps unwise. I mar-
veiled at the temerity with which I had spoken,
but had I not done so I should have suffocated.
Daphne is original ; it is a crime that her sex
never pardons.
A splendid ball at the Odoieffskys', utterly
wretched to me, for . . . she did not come.
People said it was a brilliant affair. Madame
Odoieffsky in white velvet, and resplendent
with all her diamonds; Odoieffsky himself
very handsome in his Cossack uniform, with
its cartridge case of niello silver at his belt. I
could have throttled him for having babbled
of Daphne. Sitting on the stairs, amid all the
throng of gay people, was the little paralyzed
son of the house, his rich velvet dress and
white lace ruffles contrasting strangely with
his poor pinched face, the lips drawn away on
one side from the teeth in that terrible set
smile. They have grown accustomed to him.
They do not realize how he appears to
strangers. His big bony head, with its scant
K 2
132 A Diplomat's Diary.
hair and livid skin, prominent nose, and beau-
tiful, lustrous eyes, full of a sort of restless
pathos, set upon attenuated little shoulders,
filled me with sympathy and pain. They
grant him all his whims, and he had insisted
on seeing the ball from this particular perch.
Elegant women leaned lightly to him, and
threw him a smile as they passed up and down,
inwardly shuddering, and thanking God for
their ruddy little ones at home.
As the ball grew, however, and after the
Mazurka began, little Feodor was almost for-
gotten. I thought that he and I were the
most lonely and miserable people present, for
I had grown half-sick with waiting. So I
carried the child some sweets from the supper,
and I showed him my sword, and I explained
and told him stories about all of my decorations.
The only moments of peace that I found were
at the side of this unfortunate boy. The pity
that I felt for his misfortunes seemed to all§-
viate my own suffering.
A Diplomat's Diary. 133
Life holds three phases,—that of hope, that
of revolt, and that of philosophy. I have
reached the age of the latter, but it is not yet
fully my own. Why did she not come ? and
what is she ? A woman worthy of my adora-
tion, or a cold coquette, playing with me for
her amusement ? What is she ? I must know,
and she shall tell me herself, yes, to-morrow !
Perhaps then I shall not feel so separated from
her, so far. What long years behind us both
we wot not of! She looks to me like a woman
of inexorable will. How much of mine would
it need to win her ? Ah, I would not hurt
you, dear ! One feels that love is her essence.
Ariadne's thread would guide her step by step
through the obscure labyrinths in which I
would soon lose my way and my reason. The
sensibilities of these frail creatures are more
quick than ours, but are they as profound ?
What breaks and mars a man's heart passes
over a woman's like a breeze of spring-time. It
is easy to shake the dew from a rose, but the
*34
A Diplomat's Diary.
old oak's bark must be torn and broken to
give out a drop of the sap which lends it
force.
February 2.—I have seen her alone, and we
have had a serious explanation, or, rather, I
poured out myself and told her something of
my own past. Later I begged her to talk to
me of her own life.
" My own life was too much bound up with
that of others," she said. " I cannot speak
of it."
"What must you think of me, then," I
said, "who have bared so much of my soul
to you ? Have I been too frank ?"
" Ah, that would be so nice," she said,
playfully, "to find that you could be indis-
creet or unwise, for they say you are so clever
and strong. I am a true woman, and it would
be delicious to me to find a weak spot in my
knight's armour."J
That is all the comfort I got.
" Ah ! " I said ; " the tears which fell from
A Diplomat's Diary. 135
your eyes the other day were more eloquent
than any words those mobile lips can speak."
Then she admitted shyly, like a young
girl, that the only man she had met was . . .
myself. I fell at her feet; she bade me
rise, and said, "What folly ! " but she did not
send me away. She is a most fascinating
woman.
February 3.—I have always thought I should
like to bear away with me to Italy the woman-
I loved; to have her near me under hot and
sunny skies, my beloved, my fiancee, or my
bride. It is true the thought of marriage
has not largely occupied my horizons ! I have
always hated these cold countries. Why,
then, does their mysterious melancholy seem
to suit and melt into my present mood and
the farouche nature of my love for her ? I
am glad that I have known her here. I should
like to carry Daphne away, wrapped against
my bosom, to the granite-bound lakes of
Finland, to drink in by her side the acrid
136 A Diplomat's Diary.
odours of the pines, or, farther away still, to
the sombre steppes of Orenbourg ; into 'some
dim region where the strife of tongues should
have ceased, and where she alone would be my
warmth and my sunlight. With such a one
as she one would want space and solitude.
" Enfin ils trouvhent un champ vaste on on est
a I'aise ct en liberie / "
I remember Borodino, and that long, dusty
road to Smolensk, through which Napoleon
passed, leaving devastation behind him,—that
theatre of glory and of bloody exploits. I
was there once, a traveller and sight-seer,
wasting a few days' furlough on my way to
Bucharest. I stopped at the monastery Sie-
mienoffskaia, and rested one warm June night
by the river Kolotcha. Why do I think of
that night now ? I sat on the shore watching
the anxious turbid green waters. I was alone.
All was forgotten,—the rush of the troops, the
cries of victorious armies. How still it was !
Like death, like an early death, on that vast
A Diplomat's Diary. 137
plain, the tomb of thousands. There was no
stir in the dumb silence except that of the
winds through the sad willows and scraggy
lindens, waking a distant echo of-the great
epic of the century. Why this memory now ?
and why should I like to carry my Daphne
away with me to the quiet shores of the river
Kolotcha, where none could follow us ?
Daphne! What a sweet perfume about that
name ! What a pretty name! I never could
make a D when I was a child. It is certainly
a difficult letter. Bah! I am getting into my
dotage.
February 9.—How could I write anything?
I have seen her constantly. I must collect my
thoughts of her. They press so tumultuously.
After I last wrote we visited one afternoon
the little Palace of Peter the Great, the Zoo,
and the Church of St. Paul and St. Peter
Citadel, mausoleum of the Czars. We were
a partie carrt, the Princesse Soltikoff and
Berg.
138 A Diplomat's Diary.
How graceful she looked, how radiant;
how tranquil and elegant her movements,
how noble the poise of her small head ! She
was delighted with the quaint little toy house
and its big sentries. Sitting opposite to her
in "Madame Soltikoff's carriage,-—it was too
bitterly cold for our sleighs,—I was myself as
happy as a school-boy. I leaned over several
times and whispered to her, " I love you !"
She blushed, and once she returned my
glance. As I said before, to those who have
never met the gaze of this woman it would be
impossible to explain its power. The eye is
long, light, half-closed, not very brilliant or
of decided hue. It is neither blue nor black
nor green nor grey, its interior emotions
alone seeming to make it glitter or pale. Its
habitual expression is one of indifference, or
of impenetrable coldness, when it shrouds its
fires. But if it allow but a spark to escape,
how shall one paint the voluptuousness of
its expression or the pang that it pours into a
A Diplomat's Diary. 139
man's being ? One becomes her slave, however
mistrustfully. Would any man dare to marry a
woman with such eyes ?
Her mouth, tempting and luscious, is more
telltale. She has a way of leaning back with
half-open lips. It is quite impossible that she
realizes the effect. It would be a cruelty.
At the Zoo we made the acquaintance of
monsieur-and madame and the little hippo-
potamus. Also we met some members of the
Chinese legation, whose eyeballs and pigtails
seemed to tremble with pleasure when they saw
our fair companions. We were a merry party,
all but Berg, who is hopelessly epris of
Madame Acton, and does me the honour to be
jealous. Returning, we dismissed the carriage
at the bridge, and all walked home together
across the Neva through the snow, and
thence skirting the quais into the Lietni Sadon.
We wandered aimlessly for a while in its
dim alleys. All I knew was that I was near
her.
140 A Diplomat's Diary.
It is tacitly accepted now between us that I
am devoted to her, and that there are to be no
further explanations at present; that we are
to drift for a while wherever the winds of fate
and her wishes shall waft us. She desires
this.
" Don't let us become tragic," she said
to me. "I rest upon your honour not to
speak of your love to me,—not just now, not
just now,—later, later. Let us enjoy these
hours innocently and carelessly like chil-
dren."
She seems to dread any decision or_ any
avowal. Shall I admit that there is a certain
charm in the vagueness of the situation,
which certainly cannot prolong itself for
many weeks. It is a curious fact that this
woman inspires me with such timidity, such
fear of losing her altogether, that I obey.
February 10.—Her conversation interests
me deeply. We were speaking of excursions
in the mountains of Switzerland the other
A Diplomat's Diary. 141
day, and she alluded to a trip she had taken
into the hills of her own country. " I hate
mountains," she said, " except in the distance.
It is not that I lack the courage to scale them.
In fact," she added, " I have so much of that
quality that I have sometimes wondered whether
it were not effrontery."
I made a gesture in deprecation.
" Oh, I know!" she continued, wilfully
misunderstanding me. " It is not a virtue
that commends one to the gentlemen. Well,
a propos of the mountains, I am not lazy
nor timid, but I only want to look up at
them ; at the calm majesty of their summits
where they mingle with the eternal skies. I
have always thought they were just like great
people, marred and disfigured, when you
approach them, by sticks and stumps and ugly
stones over which one trips and falls and
hurts one's self. Madame de Remusat went
mountaineering when she gossiped about
Napoleon's weaknesses. Ah me! it is only
142 A Diplomat's Diary.
to very superior minds we dare show our
weakness. Little people like Madame de
Remusat can only dwell upon the trifles. They
harp on the irregularities and the defects, and
they jump at conclusions about people's tone
of mind and generally unsound morale on
slight and dubious evidences."
Another time I spoke in scorn of wealth.
"Ah, my friend," she said, "money means
freedom, and freedom is power." Talking
of early youth, one day, she said, "Youth is
the period of disappointments, and suffers
tortures through the fear of ridicule.- It dies
in sublime silence rather than face adverse
criticisms. We," she added, laughingly, "my
friend, are at the best and happiest age."
"We?" I replied. "You are sarcastic,
madame. Why, I am old enough to be your
father."
" You must have been very precocious,
then, for I really am a very old person."
"Well preserved," I replied, smiling,
A Diplomat's Diary. 143
" Oh, yes, nice-looking enough ; but I assure
you plain people have one incalculable advan-
tage in that they never vary, and one always
knows exactly where to find them, whereas
the handsome ones manage at times to look
surprisingly hideous."
She rose and walked to the mirror and con-
templated herself for a moment, lifting the
hair a little which grows low on her young fore-
head,—that proud forehead upon which one
unconsciously looks for a diadem.
" Do you- think me handsome ?" she said,
suddenly, turning and facing me.
" Yes." •
"There are quantities of things all wrong,
.you know."
"Yes, I have remarked it. Nature has
been indeed most niggardly, and I pity you
for your unfortunate appearance and myself
for my bad taste."
" My husband, Mr. Acton, used to say there
was no real beauty, only a very good . . . effect.
144 A Diplomat's Diary.
The words seemed to escape her involun-
tarily. It was the first time she had ever
mentioned her husband to me. I grew silent.
" How stern your face becomes at times,"
she said, laughing. "You look ready to com-
mit some dreadful crime."
She can jest with a dead man's name on her
lips, I thought to myself, with a sudden pain.
Has she no heart? And yet her lips are full
of fascination and of truth.
February 12.—By appointment I walked
this morning in the Lietnl Sadon with Mrs.
Acton. " Take me for a walk ! " she Bad said
to me the day before. I dismissed my sleigh
at the gate and entered between the sentinels.
The alleys were deserted except for the distant
bent figure of Gen. Z., who exercises his old
blind dog here every morning, the only dog
ever admitted into these quiet precincts."
"What will you have ?" the Czar asked of
the gallant officer, when he came back covered
with glory from his battle-fields.
A Diploma?s Diary. 145
" Your Majesty," he replied, "don't separale
me from my faithful Sachs when I take my
walk every morning in the Summer Garden."
"Your wish shall be a law," said the grate-
ful sovereign, so every day at eleven precisely
the sentries salute the master and his decrepit
companion.
The guns from the fortress were popping
away in commemoration, no doubt, of some
pete day I knew nothing about. To my ear
there is always something peculiarly exhila-
rating in the sound of artillery, albeit this was
somewhat too distant to whip up my blood to
pleasant heat. But woman takes the place of
battle in my to-day, and the delicious ex-
pectation of her kept me warm in the biting
air. In a moment I heard her footstep
crunching the snow, and bright with the
morning she stood before me under the bare
white trees.
" I sent the sleigh and chasseur to the quais,"
she said, "so we have plenty of time to ex-
L
146 A Diplomats Diary.
plore this charming place. Oh, monsieur, I
love it! "
I kissed her gloved hand, drawn a moment
from her great muff. It is a strong hand. I
dreamed last night I was holding her hands
against my breast. They felt so cool. The
points of the fingers seemed to be wandering
over my heart. When I awoke I was con-
scious of a peculiar delightful physical sensa-
tion, a bien etre, which has clung- to me ever
since. It was a sweet dream. How beautiful
women are!
To return to Daphne. We had not walked
many steps when Miss Xavier and her maid
loomed suddenly before us. She bowed, staring
a little with her near-sighted eyes. A few
rods farther we crossed the path of the Prin-
cesse Soltikofif's young daughter Dina and her
governess. The child was rosy and happy ;
she skipped and capered about on the un-
shovelled snow-drifts which were piled up
against the mysterious forms of the covered
A Diplomat's Diary. 147
statues. Full of animal spirits, she called-out
after me, "Monsieur, monsieur, quand veiiez-rous
patiner avec moi a la Tauricle? Come Thurs-
day! Come Thursday! There will be a
quadrille on the ice, music, and I am going
to dance!"
The governess muttered a hasty excuse and
reproved her charge sharply for inconvenancc,
seizing her roughly by the. shoulders, over
which hung a quantity of rich auburn curls.
"Why, what has- the poor little thing done
that was so dreadful ?'" asked Mrs. Acton.
"Addressed a man first,'before he spoke to
her," I replied.
Since when has that been criminal ?1"
" Young girls here are kept very strictly."
" She is a pretty child. The Princess has not
yet shown me her children."
" Are you fond of children ?"
" No, I dislike them. But I do love very
much one little child."
" And what little child is that ? "
L 2
148 A Diplomat's Diary.
" My sister's boy."
" Happy little boy ! "
After a short silence she said to me, reflec-
tively, "Am I indiscreet to walk with you here
alone ?" .
"If you were a resident, possibly. Being a
stranger and a traveller, much is overlooked."
I was going to say " an American," but fortu-
nately checked myself.
" Ah !" Mrs. Acton grew a little haughty,
" This is of course a perfectly proper place
for a promenade,—the most elegant, in fact,
which Petersburg offers. Believe me I should
never have engaged you to do anything com-
promising."
" Compromising I"
Shall I admit the exclamation was not
uttered quite gently ? "Fancy," she added, after
a moment's pause, "my doing anything . . .
compromising!"
I felt we were treading on dangerous ground
and hastened to distract her thoughts. " You
A Diplomat's Diary. 149
came promptly, and I want to tell you how
much I admire you for this. Some women
seem to think that to keep a man hanging
about for an hour in Siberian winter weather
adds to their attractions. If they only knew
men better! But you, my fair i^merican
princess, have no need of such vulgar arts.
You arrive when you promise, tranquil and
fresh, with no excuse on your lips, or hurry
in your gait. So must goddesses have come
when they descended to mortals. ^ Where have
you learned what a man likes best ?"
" I have always dared to be . . . myself," she
answered, with evident pleasure at my flattery.
u And who and what are you ?"
"Ah! that too is mine to keep. Why . . .
do you ever think ill of me ? "
" Sometimes."
" And what do you think ? "
" Before I reply to that question much more
time must be given me to ponder the riddle
that you are."
150 A Diplomat's Diafy.
Am I a riddle ? That delights me."
-"-Yfis, and I must not only solve it, but I
must find out too what the riddle thinks of me ;
where I stand."
" That I shall not divulge."
"Yet you have come no doubt to some con-
elusions about me ?"
"To all."
" Your opinion is made up ?"
" Absolutely."
" And you leave me in darkness ? "
" Quite."
" Is that kind ? "
" Perhaps."
" Ah! " "I said, sadly, " you have betrayed
yourself. I know now I do not stand well in
your estimation."
We had approached the little tea-house of
the late Czar, where he used to come and drink
fragrant chay, and rest, away from labours of
state and boresome etiquette. Who knows?
to chat perhaps with the woinan who for so
A Diplomat's Diary. 151
many years ruled his fate. It was now melan-
choly and deserted. The royal servants who
are delegated to keep it always as it was in the
days of its august owner were either asleep or
neglectful. The rooms, as far as we could see
through the thick coating of ice which en-
crusted the. windows, were deserted, empty,
and forlorn. Daphne placed her lips to
one of the panes and breathed upon it to
-melt the frost. " I want to look in," she
said.
I am afraid I seized this opportunity to stand
very close to her, our shubas touching each
other, my sword against her skirts. She gave
a little low cry. " Oh, but it is cold!" she
said, and drew back quickly. I approached
my own lips to drink in, with strange avidity,
what perfume might remain of her breath upon
the icy glass. It seemed to my fancy still hot
from her contact. A vertigo seized me. I
reeled slightly and covered my eyes for a
pigment with one of my hands, When I
152 A Diplomat's Diary.
covered my reason she was looking at me
fixedly ; her face was pale.
" My friend," she said, "you asked me just
now how you stood with me. Some day I will
tell you, but not now, not now. I implore
you, I implore you, let us be happy a few short
hours, a few short days, and let the—let the-—"
she faltered a moment—" let the flesh be in
abeyance. Of it are born all love's woes,
exactions, tyrannies, jealousies. Stifle it, stifle
it, and forgive the evil in me which tempts
you !"
She held out her hand to me with a sweet
womanly gesture, so frank and appealing that
I could not doubt its sincerity. I folded it
warmly in my own.
" Angel or sorceress," I said, " it is not you,
then, that I will try to vanquish, but myself.
You tell me nothing, you vaguely hint at some
barrier between us ; if it be, as I believe, of
your own making, you alone can remove it.
I will bide your own time, I will be patient, yet
A Diplomat's Diary. 153
do not try me too far, for I am only a man after
all."
She looked at me gratefully. " This is a
compact, then ? " she said, more lightly.
I tried after this to keep within the bounds of
strict reserve, but I must confess the task rather
overtops my powers. At the quais we met the
sleigh and Alexei, but it was still early, and
Madame Acton declared that she enjoyed the
exercise and would prefer to walk home.
An incident occurred during this homeward
walk which struck me disagreeably. Before
fully realizing the fact I found we were ap-
proaching the famous yacht club. I suggested
to Mrs. Acton the propriety of taking some
other street or retracing our steps.
" I cannot imagine why," she said.
" It is an unpleasant areopagus for a lady to
pass. All the diplomatic corps and young
guardsmen are there in the morning, and you
will not like to run the blockade of their silly
and often indecent jests."
154 A Diplomat's Diary.
" Indecent! " She said it in a good deal the
same tone with which she had uttered the one
word " compromising," and a certain hardness
came over her fair visage. "I think I can
stand these gentlemen," she continued. "My
actions can bear the light. Come, mon ami,
we will not retreat before the enemy ! "
" As you like," I replied, a little coldly, for
I was secretly vexed at what I considered a
piece of childish obstinacy. The words were
hardly uttered before a party of young men,
talking loudly and smoking their cigarettes,
came striding forth from out of the club. The
sidewalk was encumbered with some boxes,
over which a couple of tradesmen were dis-
puting with many Russian expletives, and
these young officers had to scatter to let me
and my companion pass. In fact, for a moment
we were surrounded by them. Men of fashion
of our time are not remarkable either for their
tirpidity or their chivalry. Those whom I
knew gave me a military salyte. One or fwg
A Diplomat's Diary. 155
had met or seen Mrs. Acton, and bowed low as
she passed with her usualoasy grace. A good
deal of bold staring was indulged in, however,
and I heard " Tiens ! a-t-il de la chance avec sa
jolie Americaine, le malm /"
" II 110ns devance, mon cherd
Extremely annoyed, I hurried to join
Mrs. Acton, expecting to see displeasure de-
picted upon her face. Imagine my surprise
when I found there only an expression of great
satisfaction. " I said I would do it," she cried,
exultingly. " Wasn't it amusing ? "
" It is a form of amusement, madame, which
I confess does not commend itself to my taste,"
I replied, stiffly.
"They were so surprised to see you with
me," she continued, entirely ignoring my vexa-
tion. " What do you suppose they thought ?
What did they say ? I could not hear."
The devil take me if I tell her, I muttered to
myself, inwardly. " They said it was a very cold
day: only four degrees," I ^replied, laconically,
156 A Diplomat's Diary.
" Why are you so cross to me ? I was just
beginning to enjoy myself ; " and I noticed the
colour had indeed returned to Daphne's lips
and cheeks, and that there was a feverish ani-
mation in her usually half-shut, dreamy eyes.
Shall I admit that I was forced to conclude
that this lady of my adoration, this angel at
whose feet I was ready to cast myself down at
the sacrifice of all my dignity and all my man-
hood, had found a diabolical delight in drag-
ging me, the " impregnable," conspicuously
about, and parading me tied hand and foot to
her skirts past a club which is the hot-bed of
all Petersburg scandals, and this a few mo
ments only after a scene of ^uch fine delicacy
and tender romance as had been enacted be-
tween us amid the snows of the Lietnt Sadou ?
While I was indulging in these reflections
she dismissed me abruptly, saying, "You seem
morose. I will leave you now. I prefer to
finish my-walk alone," and did in fact leave
me planted upon the sidewalk. I groaned.to
A Diplomats Diary. 157
myself as I stumbled home, utterly wretched,
after this abrupt farewell, for, the club exploit
over, Daphne seemed to have no further use for
me, and to have become quickly weary of my
society. It is certain and decided that she is
without heart. Has she not admitted to me that
she hates children ? It is also certain that she
has no discretion, that even her taste and deli-
cacy are at fault, and that ... I adore her !
February 13.—How could I so malign her!
She is all heart, all taste, all delicacy, all dis-
cretion, only she is trh femme, which means
full of contradictions that no blundering man
can ever understand. It is conclusive that she
enjoyed passing that club. I saw every evi-
dence of it. But why ? Was it vanity ? A
little, perhaps, and the purity which does not
know how wicked these men's tongues can be,
the fools—would that I might cut their tongues
out for them! But I have not the right to
mix up Mrs. Acton's name in any brawl, and
this would be the only and sure result. I can
158 A Diplomat's Diary
trust to my natural reserve and'dignity to stop:
the slightest further allusion to. our matutinal
ramble, only . . . she must be more prudent.
People here will not comprehend. I . have
heard that the Americans trust their women
implicitly and accord them extraordinary
liberty. In theory I believe them to be right ;
personally I confess that the Sultan's method
of lock and key would suit me better, for I
will confide to my journal, and to my journal
alone, that I am of an intensely jealous" dis-<
position, and do not possess that faith which
makes existence so delightfully calm. Gall it
trust, if you will ; I name it conceit.
February 15 Was perhaps one of the dreariest
days I ever spent. I noticed that the extreme
unctuousness and marked courtesies which have
characterized the attitude of this government's
high officials towards my humble person seemed
to have received a sudden check. The Czar,
to be sure, extended friendly finger-tips, but
the gentlewomen of the Empress's entourage,
A Diplomat's Diary. 159
and this lovely lady herself, were barely polite,
while at the foreign office there was, as it were,
a smell of gunpowder in the air. Later I
learned of the violent political and personal
attack upon me in the Moscow Gazette, which
I had not seen earlier in the day. Before
evening I had taken steps to prosecute its
editor. However vexing a proch and its pub-
licity is to me at this moment, the world shall
vindicate me, and these proud people shall be
brought to terms. I owe it to the government
I serve as well as to my own self-respect.
What! I am to be treated as a spy! I,
whose every instinct rebels against crooked or
tortuous means ! My fault has been too much
bluntness, too much honesty—never too little.
Rather, to my amusement, I found myself
deluged by telegrams from friends all of course
kindly offering advice or aid.]
I clipped the attack and sent it to Mrs. Acton,
with a word asking her if she believed these
vile stories of one whom she honoured with
160 A Diplomat's Diary.
her friendship. August brought me back her
answer: "I will meet you at the Tauride to-
morrow and will confer on this matter with
you. I am too American, you know, to do
anything but laugh at the attacks of the press>
which with us has not liberty, but license. I
know here, however, such matters are more
grave, and particularly to one in your delicate
position. But, mon ami, I believe in you."
That was all. Oh, angel !
Harassed by the annoyance of running
about for- counsel and getting into shape for
my proces, I came home to find some necessary
papers. Gustav, who opened*the door for me,
drew me aside as I entered, with a most mys-
terious expression of countenance. " Your
Excellency," he said, " indeed I said you were
out; I even lied and said il decouche, but in
she came and in she would remain. She
asked for a glass of vodka, your Excellency,
and she emptied it so,—as a child would its
milk;" and Gustav tossed off an imaginary
A Diplomat's Diary. 161
draught and smacked his lips with a noisy
cluck.
" Va a tous les diables ! I hurled at him.
Inwardly enraged, I entered my rooms, to find
Madame Nathalie in full possession. " I
thought you were gone," I said, inhospitably,
albeit advancing to salute her. " Surely your
engagement at the ' Marie ' is over ? "
" Mon cher, you see I am not," she said,
"since I come in for a chat with you."
" It will have to be short," I answered,
curtly. " I am very busy."
" Oh, yes, I knew you were in trouble, but
there are things even more terrible than a
false accusation."
I did not care to discuss my affairs with the
importunate danseuse, but something in her
tone was so triste and earnest that I involun-
tarily unbent a little. Smoothing the wrinkles
out of my nose, which is the feature upon
which my brother says that all my displeasure
concentrates, I handed her a cigarette, lighted
M
162 A Diplomat's Diary.
my own pipe, and asked her a little more good
humouredly what the matter was.
" It is just this," she said, leaning back in a
low chair, and exhibiting a pair of tightly-
fitting dark-blue hose. In my newly-assumed
character of Joseph I blinked and turned
away, laughing at myself a little in my sleeve
at the same time.
Why is it that play-actresses are always at .
their role ? they never can be sincere for three
minutes consecutively. When she saw I
meant to be more civil the mima was all
alive again.
"You can prevent a . . . murder," she cried,
tragically.
" It is so difficult, my fair One, to know
whether you are telling the truth, fabricat-
ing something for your own amusement, or
simply "
She interrupted me with a violent gesture.
" Listen to me," she said, " for a moment," *
and this time there was a return of truthfulness
A Diplomat's Diary. 163
in the ring of her voice. " I may be a fool,
but you owe me something."
" I will not interrupt you again."
"You remember the night you took me
away from the little Frenchman's insolence
at the guardsmen's supper. Well, who else
would have done it ? You knew, all Peters-
burg knew, what my relations had been with
S., and that I had been under his protection
for nearly two years. Yes, let me see." She
counted rapidly on her figures. " I don't
allude to three months in Italy," she mur-
mured, as if in doubt as to who had protected
her during those. "Well, long before that
night it was all over between us. We were
bons camarades. His love for me was quite
dead, quite, and you yourself saw how coldly he
stood by and heard that boy insult me. Well,
will you believe it? since that evening when
you,—when he saw how much I liked you,
and the fellows have called you my protector,
—ever since then his feeling for me seems to
M 2
164 A Diplomat's Diary.
have reawakened. He never cared about
d'Aubilly ; he only laughed, for, as I tell you,
it was all up between us. But now, now, he
swears if I don't come back to him he will
kill himself. He is half wild, he is drinking
dreadfully. He frightens me. He says he
will shoot you too the next time you come
to the Michel riding-school, or at the first
carousal of the Chevalier Guardsmen, as if
you were a dog of a Kirgheez. I don't think
he will kill you ; he would not dare. He
knows what I would do to him then. But I
think he is or will be killing himself." She
stopped, breathless.
" And what am I to do about it ?"
"Go and see him and tell him there is
nothing between us. Calm his jealousy. He
is like an insane child."
" Why should I go on such a fool's errand ?
Have you not told him that yourself? "
"Yes, but he only curses me and says it is
a lie; says he knows I love you, and you see,
A Diplomat's Diary. 165
mon cher," she added, and a tear, yes, an
actual tear, rolled down her cheek, bringing
with it a little streak of rouge, " the fact is
that . . . Tthink I am amoureuse pour de bon
this time."
"We are not here to discuss your senti-
ments, madame," I said, flicking the ashes
from my pipe. " But you yourself admit the
man has ceased to love you ; then why, in
heaven's name, should he care a kopeck who
you give yourself to, 01* whom you honour with
your . . . affections ?"
" Passion outlives love," said Nathalie.
" Humph ! You have cracked a nut there
in whose kernel lies a grain of truth. I see
that you study psychology as well as vertigi-
nous entrechats
Delighted to have arrested my interest for a
moment, my tormentor was not slow in profit-
ing by her advantage. "But I would srather
die on the straw than go back to S. It was a
dog's life that he led me. When he was jealous
166 A Diplomat's Diary.
he used to pull my hair out, yes, by the
roots." She put up her hands in illustration
of this picturesque confession, and gave a
hard jerk to a handful of her crisp, thick hair,
which seemed to resist fairly well this demand
upon its powers of resistance. " But you, but
you, how kind you could be to a woman, how
gentle and how tender! Tell me, Monsieur
le Cornte, why am I repulsive to you ?"
She rose and came close to me. A very
pretty woman certainly is Madame Nathalie.
Superb are her ripe charms, and I could feel
her breath close to my face and see the small
cruel teeth glisten between the dry parted
lips, but God is my witness that from her
panting bosom not a spark flashed to my own,
and that before this magnificent creature offer-
ing herself to me so impudently in the face of
the danger to her former lover, which she
seemed sincere in believing, I remained as
cold as marble.
" What did you come here for ? " I said to
A Diplomat's Diary. 167
her savagely. "Was it to save a suicide or
to tempt a cynic ? "
She looked at me a moment very strangely.
Her eyes grew big and black and her face
blanched under its cosmetics.
. " Who is it ? I will know, I will know ! "
she said, under her breath. "If it is a femme
du monde she shall eat the dust."
Tragics usually produce in me a nervous
impulse of laughter, and I indulged now in a
guffaw which was calculated to clear like
thunder the electrical atmosphere. She shrank
and seemed to feel that she had been ridiculous,
which piqued her vanity as a woman of the
world.
"You only laugh," she muttered, a little
ashamed. "Only tell me if the woman you
care for is a femme du monde, then I will leave
you, will never trouble you again ?"
"Yes," I said. "Now go!"
" Is she Russkaia ? " she persisted.
" I insist that this scene shall end !"
168 A Diplomat's Diary.
" What do you advise me about Strogo-
noff?"
" Go back to him."
" What! you whom I adore would drive me
back to the arms of the man I hate ? "
" Go to the devil, both of you, only leave me
in peace now and hereafter !" I cried.
"You will be sorry for this," she said, in a
stifled key.
Somehow the woman managed to make me
uneasy, and I weakly compromised by helping
her into her shuba and accompanying her to
the door.
The antechamber once cleared of her pres-
ence and her essences, I collared Gustav and
gave him such a shaking as I will wager he
never had had before in his experiences as a
valet. " Take that, and remember it," I said ;
"and I will break your bones and not pay the
doctor who sets them if ever you let that jade
into my rooms again ! Did you take her
money, you dog ? "
A Diplomat's Diary. 169
" Na, gnadige Herr, I would not touch the
lady's money, and you are too violent," mum-
bled Gustav; and then he called out after me,
" Na, gnadige Herr, but she is a fine woman
for all that, but when the court ladies smile on
a man he loses his head, and does not know his
real friends from enemies that shall bring him
to dishonour."
The exact portent of my angry servant's
tirade I did not stop to fathom, but I was left
with a sense of malaise. I had been brutal to a
woman, I had ill-used a faithful domestic, and
I had an unpleasant sense that Daphne might
come to some harm through this woman's
machinations. Whence come to us these pre-
monitions ? Certain it is that the disaster which
followed my inaction and its remorse will linger
with me long.
Two hours later I was lounging on the quay,
hoping that the Norths' sleigh, with a certain
wished-for figure hidden among its furs, might
pass me, when a man ran wildly out of a house
170 A Diplomat's Diary.
and almost fell against me. " Ah, monsieur/'
he said, in French, "God sent you! My poor
master! my poor master! He is dead ! Come
in ! come in ! For God's sake, come and help
us ! " His manner was so agonized and vehe-
ment that a crowd began to gather about us.
I seized his arm and pushed him into the
house.
I recognized him at once as StrogonofFs ser-
vant, having seen him waiting at his master's
supper-table, and again in attendance upon him
at the opera.
" What has happened ? " I said, huskily, step-
ping into the doorway which led to StrogonofFs
apartments. The other servants were gathered
in the hall, full of dismay and consternation.
" Quick, Piotre, go for a doctor! "some one
cried, and then,—" Wait! we must telegraph at
once to Varinka Nicolaevna, at Nice !"
The Princesse Varinka was StrogonofFs
married sister, and his only near relative.
In the general confusion I found myself led
A Diplomat's Diary. 171
into the unfortunate young man's rooms, which
were upon the ground floor. " This way, this
way, and for God's sake help us !" wailed the
unhappy valet.
I ordered two of the servants away, one for
a physician, and one with the telegram, and
myself entered Strogonoff's bedroom with his
body servant, the Frenchman Leon, who had
met me in the street. He lay as they had found
him, face downward. His powerful frame was
still clad in his full-dress uniform of Hussar of
the Guard ; his gold-embroidered white dolman
hung limp from one of his shoulders ; he had
on his boots. The early Russian twilight had
closed in, but the room would have been dark
in any case, for the curtains were carefully
drawn, and only two wax-candles burned upon
the table. Between them, and close to the sofa
where the dying man lay, was a photograph in
a jewelled frame. The lights fell full upon its
pale surface, while the rest of the great high-
ceilinged room was in almost entire obscurity
\*]2 A Diplomat's Diary.
I noticed even in this dreadful moment, with
the insistence with which details force them-
selves upon an excited mind, that it was a
portrait of Nathalie in her role of Sieba. It
was a fine photograph and a flattered like-
ness, with a daring, saucy glance in the bright
eyes.
As I turned the poor boy over in my arms I
groaned over the depths of human folly. He
was breathing still. A red stream dripped from
between his lips. " Blood, blood," moaned
Leon, wringing his hands. " My poor master ! "
I placed my handkerchief close to his mouth,
then motioned Leon to approach a light. " It
is not blood," I said. " It is red wine. The
lungs are intact. The ball has entered his side,
and he is vomiting. This is from the stomach."
" Ay, wine, wine and cards, and that
woman," said Leon. " He has been a foolish
fellow, sir, and it has brought him to this."
The man seemed fond of his master; he was
weeping.
A Diplomat's Diary. 173
We were undressing him when the doctors
arrived. Theremin thinks the wound not neces-
sarily fatal. Later came a telegram from the
Princess: "I take midnight train. If he still
lives tell him I will pay all debts. Varinka Z."
But Strogonoff continued unconscious, and
no such comforting assurance could reach his
deaf ears. I went home broken and tired. I
hardly have had time to reflect a moment on
the extraordinary coincidences of this wretched
day and night.
February 17.—The ball had entered the
stomach; it could not be extracted. He ex-
pired on the following night. I have been
much affected by this death. Yet what could
I have done ?
February 20, Bezdany, Lithuanie.—I have
been forced to travel here to procure an im-
portant witness for my lawsuit. I welcomed
the opportunity thus afforded me to escape for
a few days from Petersburg, and to shake off
the painful impressions which I found it well-
174 ^ Diplomat's Diary.
nigh impossible to dispel. I am all the more
reconciled to this brief absence from the fact
that my American friends have gone into Fin-
land for a short excursion. Here my old friend
Serge Oussoff, whom I knew in Paris four years
since, has offered me the hospitality of his
country home, and here I am very comfortably
established for two or three days. He told me
I must furnish myself with a gun, hunting-
knife, furred boots and vest, as he wished me
during my sojourn to participate in -a bear-
hunt. These lords of the Russian forests are
not rare in the great wastes of pine which skirt
the environs of Wilna.
Oussoff himself met me at the station, and
while we drank a glass of beer in its murky
restaurant he ordered his man Lachevitch to
tell us a bear-story for my especial benefit.
Taking off his greasy cap, coughing and spit-
ting first, as do all moujiks on important
occasions, Lachevitch began to relate his late
experiences in the woods. I understood per-
A Diplomat's Diary. 175
fectly well that this was to whet my appetite
for personal exploit, and the tale was suffi-
ciently highly coloured and incredible to awaken
the ardour of the most languid sportsman. At
any rate, the man himself, apart from his
hunter's boastfulness, was delightfully pictur-
esque. When he had finally killed and cut
up- his bear, he blew his nose between his
thumb and index finger, and proceeded to
wipe these digits upon his toidoup. " Most
people," he said, addressing the nondescript
hangers-on who had drawn around us, " prefer
tracking rabbits to killing bears ; it is more
familiar;" at which everybody laughed im-
moderately.
We drove ten versts in the sleigh to Serge's
house, which is presided over by an old gonvcr-
nante, Madame Krioukoff. She gave us some
breakfast as soon as we arrived. As she
poured out our chay from the great silver sam-
ovar she expatiated on the fearful dangers of
bear-hunting, saying that the animals were
i 76 A Diplomat's Diary.
thick-hided, and that if one missed them, or,
worse still, only wounded them, they would
tear a man's cranium open and play with his
jaw-bones. She shook her head dolefully from
side to side until the little curls of her yellow
wig trembled. For her part, she thought
" partridges much better game ; better to eat
too, and easier to bring home."
Serge only replied, " You chatter too much,
you chatter too much, Masha Yacovlena,"
which reproof the old lady accepted good-
humouredly, as if she regarded it rather in the
light of flattery. After breakfast my special
guide was brought in and presented to me, or
rather I was put under his care. They called
him Nico. An icon was suspended in the
sitting-room where we had assembled after
the meal. A light burned before it. Before
Nico undertook his new duties he passed fully
ten minutes at prayer before this image,
making innumerable signs of the cross and
balancing his body backward and forward on
A Diplomat's Diary. 177
his heels. He was a short man with heavy
shoulders, oldish, with a long white beard.
He wore a touloup which looked as if it had
served for coat, mattress, napkin, and hand-
kerchief, yet I dare say it will be a part of
his eldest son's inheritance.
Having put himself right with heaven, he
greeted me respectfully and deigned to take
an interest in me. I told him I had never
hunted the bear, and that the only live ones
I had ever seen were in the zoological gardens
of great, cities, or led by Italian organ-grinders.
" That," he replied gravely and politely, " is
hardly sufficient." The moujik is always civil.
He has even tact on occasions, and this one
concealed the scorn he must have felt for me
with a savoir faire which would have done
credit to a courtier.
It was concluded, as my stay was to be so
short, that we should start very early the next
day. We did, in fact, start at three o'clock.
Oussoff himself came into my room on tiptoe
N
178 A Diplomat's Diary.
with a lamp in his hand, and told me I must
hurry, as the troika would be there in twenty
minutes. I had slept badly, and felt a good
deal like a man who is awakened for his exe-
cution. In the tro'ika we found stowed away,
besides our arms, several bottles of wine and
of brandy. It was snowing and windy. The
coachman tossed up his reins, gave a low
whistle, and off we swept, leaving behind us
two deep ruts in the white surface of the road.
"Go on, my little darlings," he cried to his
horses, and we did indeed "go on." It was a
frantic pace. After a while we pulled up before
a miserable hut which seemed to loom up
suddenly in the mist.
" Here we are ! " cried Serge. It was Nico's
abode. On entering I was almost choked by an
atmosphere which it is impossible to describe,
—an odour of grease, smoke, old sheepskins,
and unwashed humanity. The family had not
yet arisen. They seemed to be asleep all over
the floor. " Come, get up ! " ordered their
A Diplomat's Diary. 179
master. In a moment every one was on his
or her legs ; the women began to tie up their
hair, the children to whimper, and the men to
pray before the sacred images. It was a most
extraordinary scene. All these people seemed
to have slept in their clothes. I expressed
my amazement to Serge, who only shrugged
his shoulders. " What will you have ? It is
a wonder the cow and the pig are not in here
too." And this was all the explanation he
vouchsafed. Nico was drawing on his boots
and looking after his rusty old gun. He
handled it tenderly and with a sort of respect,
running its bayonet slowly up and down his
thumb.
Two men now loomed up at the doorway :
one was called Isoph, the other seemed to be
nameless. I could hardly distinguish their
peasant faces. They seemed younger than
Nico, but not more alert. They whispered
something to him, and he answered, " Directly."
"He then detained us a moment longer while
N 2
180 A Diplomat's Diary.
he performed his early orisons, after which he
saluted everybody very politely. "There is a
bear at two versts from here," he said as we
sallied out into the snow, " and I think we
hold him." A party of moujiks awaited us
outside. They were mostly, Serge told me,
Nico's sons and sons-in-law. It was still
snowing softly, but the wind had blown itself
out.
Our troika drew up on the outskirts of the
woods and we alighted. We all walked half
a mile in silence. It was a painful march, for
the snow was up to our knees. Suddenly
Nico stopped. "Do you see that mound of
snow surmounted by a sort of vapour ?" he
whispered. We stopped and saw.
" Hush ! He is in there." At a word from
their leader the moujiks formed a circle, elbow
to elbow, round the spot where "Michel,"
as the Russians call Bruin, was supposed to
be asleep. Nico told us to keep close together,
the bear would come towards us. " Let him
A Diplomat's Diary. 181
come very near," said he, " and then aim be-
tween the eyes. If he spring, we have always
the knife. Courage !''
Nico himself was very placid, having made
several rapid signs of the cross. Then all at
once and all together the peasants began to
make the most frightful noise that I ever had
heard in my life, beating the pines, giving vent
to wild, incoherent cries, and shouting them-
selves quite hoarse. In a few minutes another
sound mingled with the human ones.
" He is getting up," said Nico, grimly. Then
the creature appeared. He was very big,
quite enormous, in fact, and of a most lovely
pale-grey colour. He shook himself languidly,
and moved in our direction. We shouldered
our rifles. " Now ! " cried Nico. Serge
pulled his trigger, and I did nothing. There
was a cloud of smoke, and through it we
could see two huge paws beating the air.
Before I could fire, Nico had made a bound
forward, and his bayonet disappeared, plunged
182 A Diplomat's Diary.
into Michel's breast. With a horrible roar the
beast rolled forward upon the snow. In my
excitement I then fired off two shots as a sort
of paean of joy, and at the risk of killing a
monjik or two, after which I felt like running
away. The bear was writhing in his last con-
vulsions.
" I hit him, did I not ?" asked Serge, run-
ning up.
" That is very possible, Barinreplied the
peasant, touching his cap ; he was too deferen-
tial to take the credit to himself, although we
all knew perfectly well that Serge's ball had
hardly grazed him. The fact is, we had all
lacked calmness and skill. Isoph went to
fetch a sledge, while Nico cleansed the victim.
We distributed roubles among the men, and,
Nico having assured me that the bear was
absolutely riddled with our balls, we gave him
a handsome present. We, then all had some
brandy. Nobody was duped, but we had seen
a bear-hunt, and spent a great deal of money.
A Diplomat's Diary. 183
February 22.—I found the witness I wanted
in Bezdany, and he will be in Petersburg next
week. Madame Krioukoff parted from me
almost affectionately. "You must come back
in the summer for the mushrooming," she
said. " It is very amusing, and requires no
firearms. We will get you up a fine picnic,
and you will have some of our sterlet soup."
Serge told her she was an old goose, at
which she laughed amiably, as much as to say,
" Boys will be boys." She seemed to look
upon us as mere children, and, in fact, full-
grown men are childish enough, God knows !
February 25, Petersburg.—I have been with
her nearly all the day. The children's quad-
rille took place on the ice at the Tauride,
and there was a great turnout of all the
women a la mode, young gallants, and the
diplomatic corps. One puts on one's skates
within the old palace which his royal mistress
bestowed upon Potemkin, and where the
favourite gave in Catharine's honour those royal
184 A Diplomats Diary.
entertainments which surpassed in splendour
those we read of in the " Arabian Nights."
The little Countess Wasia de Barythine was
coquetting with Berg in the great salon. She
had taken off her boots and was warming her
tiny feet in their red hose before the fire.
Berg seemed out of sorts and only half atten-
tive. He is very cold with me. He too is
touched by that more dangerous wand than
any the pretty little Countess wields.
The band was playing on the shores of the
desolate lake, with its grey, dim, overhanging
skies, from which swoop down the low-flying
birds, while in the pauses the Tziganes re-
galed us with songs, whose strange melodies
run through all the gamut of love, of pain,
and of resignation. The slide was crowded
with gay cavaliers piloting their lovely burdens
down on their sledges, which slipped like
flashes of light and with an impetus carrying
them half across to the other side of the ice-
bound waters. I joined Lady Xavier, who
A Diplomat's Diary. 185
was sitting alone disconsolately on a bench
waiting for her daughter, and trying to keep
warm by blowing on her fingers, while the
skaters passed and repassed us, smoking their
cigarettes, flirting and chatting, with red
cheeks and redder noses. She spoke to me
of Mrs. Acton.
"Is she as—as—er—eccentric as they say ? "
she asked. " I am told you know her ex-
tremely well."
"Mrs. Acton," I replied, both glad and
sorry to talk of her, " is not one who can be
quickly known."
" Oh ! " said the English matron ; " she poses
for a Sphinx, does she ? "
"I think she is one," I replied, laughing,
" without any pose."
" Do you consider her clever ? "
"Very."
" And handsome ? "
" Yes."
" These Americans arrange themselves
186 A Diplomat's Diary.
well," she said, apparently desiring to appear
benignly indulgent. " They make a good
effect, but the features are too small, too in-
significant, and they really have no figures to
speak of, none."
" Ah! " I found nothing better to reply.
The Soltikoff children and their little com-
panions were forming into sets. Their
screams of delight were wafted to us on the
gusts of icy wind, and I was looking over my
shoulder to see whether she were not ap-
proaching.
" There is no doubt of it," continued Lady
Xavier, as if to persuade herself of a foregone
conclusion ; " now-a-days, to have any success,
a woman must sail nearer the wind than for-
merly."
At this moment Miss Xavier passed us,
apparently sailing very close indeed to the
wind on the arm of Kalish, the dark Turkish
attach^. Her mother's eyes followed her with
maternal solicitude. Kalish is a favuorite with
A Diplomat's Diary. 187
the young girls. He possesses every requisite
with which to fire an imagination of twenty.
He is handsome, dreamy, melancholy, dissi-
pated, and bankrupt.
"Your daughter skates well," I remarked,
wishing to be amiable, and also wishing, oh,
so much! that my beloved would arrive; and
just then she did arrive, adorable, in rich gar-
ments. The women stared as she passed
through them, while the men flocked like bees
about her. With a hasty excuse I deserted my
ambassadress, while Berg instantly forsook the
Countess Wasia.
As I drew near her, trembling, there swept
over me that faint imperceptible odour which
bereaves me at once of my reason. She was
charmingly gracious to me. She turned away
from the others and distinguished me de-
cidedly to-day. She gave me her hands for a
moment, and I pressed and warmed them an
instant in my own, and she allowed me to. push
her away from the people, on one of the sliding
188 A Diplomat's Diary.
chairs, far, far away under the little bridge,
where we paused amid the snowdrifts which
lay in great sparkling mounds, and she lis-
tened to my words of wild devotion, her head
a little bent towards me, her beautiful lips
parted.
In the evening I was again beside her in the
closely-curtained boudoir of the Legation, and
a curious scene was acted between us, which I
will record.
When I arrived, Mrs. North and her niece
were both in the room. After an exchange of
commonplaces,—
"What is that ornament you wear on your
watch-chain ?" asked Mrs. North. " I have
always intended that you should tell me. Is
it a decoration, ... or a religious medal ?"
Now, the ornament in question is a tiny
edelweiss formed by a cluster of small brilliants,
which at parting the Princess Flavie clasped
upon my chain. " It is no love-token, my
friend," she said, sadly. " It is only the rivet
A Diplomat's Diary. 189
of a faithful friendship; and may it protect
you in battle, for war, they say, is in the air."
It would have been ungracious to refuse her
little gift, and I accepted it lightly enough,
with a word of playful badinage, pretending
not to see the tear which hung upon the Prin-
cess's eyelashes, and the toy has been about
me ever since, hardly remembered, and yet not
all unwillingly worn, for surely I might keep
it in commemoration of a happy escape from
an unpleasant predicament in which my dis-
cretion played a more important part than
my valour. Who knows ? Perhaps the poor ro-
mantic girl's prayers are the most sincere and
fervent which go up heavenward for me to-day.
So I answered Mrs. North's question: " It was
given me for a talisman, and I cynically keep
it as a decoration."
"Ah!" said Mrs. North; "tell us all about
it."
" Why, there is no story of interest attached
to the thing," I answered. " One of the royal
190 A Diplomat's Diary.
princesses gave it to me to protect me in battle.
The edelweiss is, I believe, her pet flower, and
is supposed to bring good luck."
Shortly after this Mrs. North rose, saying
that her husband had a severe cold, and she
must herself superintend that he took certain
remedies and his bath, all in good time, and
she excused herself.
I was thus at last left alone with Daphne.
I was sitting by a table on which stood a lamp
whose glow fell uppn her face, for the sofa
upon which she reclined was drawn close
under the light, which formed as it were a sort
of rampart between us. Entirely careless of
the purport of the words, just spoken between
Mrs. North and myself, Iieaned towards her.
"And when will you keep your promise to
me ?" I cried, eagerly. " Is it to-morrow that
I am to have the great joy of escorting you to
the Hermitage ?"
At the Tavricheskom Sadou, in the early part
of the day, she had half consented to meet me
A Diplomat's Diary. 191
some morning in the art world, and I was sick
with longing, as usual, for the assurance that I
should be with her again on the morrow. But
she did not answer my question, only looking
at me with an expression of disdain.
" I have heard Americans accused," she said,
dryly, " of a lack of distinction and social grace,
and of the elegance and tact which charm in
the salon. I am not sorry to find that even the
courtiers of an older civilization can be defi-
cient in good taste."
Her manner was so uncivil that I felt a flush
of anger mount to my forehead. This allusion
to her compatriots filled me with irritation
and a vague jealousy. "If your own com-
patriots are so greatly our superiors," I said,
with petulance, " I wonder you could ever
make up your mind to leave them ! "
I regretted the unworthy foolish words as
soon as uttered, but it was too late. She
laughed a little harshly. " Ah ! " she said, " I
do not leave them for long; they want me
192 A Diplomat's Diary.
back," and she placed her hand as she spoke
on a pile of foreign letters which lay under
the light beside her. " Here," she continued,
" this one," lifting an envelope in her hand,
—" this one says if I stay another month he will
put a bullet through himself."
" Let him ! " I said, savagely.
" Ah! but I cannot spare him."
" Why do you torture me so ? " I said. " For
God's sake put an end to me or to my tor-
ments! You are unjust, ungenerous, and cruel.
I do not understand you. What do you desire
of me ? What have I done ? Wherein have I
offended ? "
Like a child she leaned to me suddenly, just
touching the edelweiss with her fingers. Her
voice grew a little faltering as if with sup-
pressed excitement. She looked long into my
eyes as if she would penetrate their secrets.
" What is it ? what is it ? " she said : " that
thing you wear ? Was it not vulgar ? parading
your conquests before my aunt ? vaunting
A Diplomat's Diary. 193
your gages diamour in my presence ? and after
. . . after . . . after this morning ?"
" Vulgar! " I said. " Oh, my beloved !
This girl is less to me than a sister. One
breath of your splendour is more to me than
her life or her death could ever be! Here !
I will prove it;" and with a rapid gesture I
rose and drew my sword from its scabbard.
The edelweiss was fastened only by a slender
clasp. With one sharp cut of the polished
steel blade, one quick wrench, it fell at
her feet, and rolled away towards the mantel-
piece.
I shall never to my dying hour forget the
beauty of her face at that moment. She was
quite white, except for two living spots of colour
high up in her cheeks, while her eyes seemed
to dilate and to grow large and sombre, glow-
ing like some wild thing's, some panther of
the desert's. Her bosom heaved with exult-
ant triumph, and I knew that she had been
caught up for a moment into a woman's para-
o
194 -A Diploma?s Diary.
dise ; she had fathomed the depth of my pas-
sion for her, and its fire had for an instant
scorched her own soul. This peculiar exalta-
tion passed in an instant; the colour faded and
the lashes fell again and shaded the eyes.
The palpitant breath came less quickly. The
hands unclasped themselves and fell nerveless
on her knees. She rose, and, walking towards
the mantelpiece, raised the front of her lace
skirts a little* and—shall I say it ?—gave a
kick of considerable energy with the toe of
her dainty high-heeled slipper to poor Flavie's
ill-starred gift. It disappeared among the
ashes. She turned to me then with such—oh,
such a smile! The smile of a captious, but
repentant child.
"It was an ugly little thing," she said. " A
hideous little thing. It was absolutely dis-
figuring to your uniform. It was perfectly
ridiculous. That princess must be—must be
—very—very stingy to give you such shabby,
silly presents !"
A Diplomat's Diary. 195
What mattered the dear foolish words which
made us so near, which made her less the
goddess to me than the beautiful shy creature
my senses craved, my lips grew dry for, my
arms longed to hold and press ? But with a
strength of will which I had hardly thought I
possessed I conquered my impulse. Must not
one quell the instincts of a savage ancestry if
civilization is to count for aught ? " Stingy,
my beautiful one, stingy ? Well, yes, perhaps ;
and, do you know, I am always scolding her
for her extravagance ? "
" Ii riy a pas de quoip she said, and then we
both laughed, she a little wildly, and both
until the tears stood in our eyes. It was such
a relief after the intense tension. It was so
sweet. We were so madly happy. O, Daphne,
Daphne, were you not happy too ? I sat
near to her, and she let me hold her hands,
in all honesty and seriousness, while I told her
all. " I can have no further secrets from you,"
I said, and unfolding to her Flavie's story, only
O 2
196 A Diplomat's Diary.
veiling names and places as was befitting a
man of honour.
My head was so dizzied by the violent emo-
tions of the evening that after I left her„ I
walked far on the Nevsky in search of my lost
calm. I craved the air. The moon was rising;
it was not very cold. The church clock struck
one when I reached the enclosure in which
stands the statue of Catharine, " Yekatierina."
How lovingly Russians of all classes, from
the courtier to the moujik, utter the magic
name! I paused and looked up at her where
she loomed from her base of red granite against
the pallid stars. The piles of unshovelled snow
threw up a queer uncertain reflection on the
mantle of the lascivious queen, striding proudly
over the heads of her crouching lovers,—Der-
javin, Prince Dashnoff, Count Roumiantseff,
Princes Potemkin, Suwarrow, Bedborodko,
Belsky, Chichagoff; Counts Orloff and Ches-
minsky. To me this statue is a strangely un-
pleasant work of art; but as I leaned against
A Diplomat's Diary. 197
the little brick railing my thoughts were not
of Catharine or of her favourites. A serpent's
tooth had bitten me. Who is this man, this
compatriot of hers, who threatens to kill him-
self if she does not return to him ? What is
his claim ? Why will she never say " I love
you !" and why will she always put off my
avowals with vague answers as if in fear of the
future ? But, then, why this petulance, this
distrust, this jealousy, if she does not care ?
Who can judge a woman's caprices ? Am I
merely this, a caprice, while I throw at her
feet all the wealth of a profound adora-
tion ?
These baffling questions poisoned all the
sweet memories of the evening. Bah ! To fly
from their torment I rapidly retraced my steps,
and stopped for a moment at the club ; a letter
from Wilna was to await me there. Kalish,
d'Aubilly, and two Chevalier Guardsmen were
playing whist, smoking, and silent, only an
occasional ejaculation escaping one of them
19S A Diplomat's Diary.
across the green baize over which they were
testing their luck and their genius.
On my way out my attention was drawn to
a noisy group of men. They seemed to be
making some attack on d'H., who I soon saw
was a good deal under the effect of copious
draughts from a neighbouring punch-bowl. He
seemed to be the target for some particular
chaffing, at which great mirth was evoked.
His replies were made in a protesting and
fretful voice, and always hailed by bursts of
rather brutal merriment.
" Allons, mon cher," said one, bolder than the
others, "Madame d'H. is charming, no doubt,
but you cannot persuade us that you mar-
ried her for her beauty." And then I heard
the newly-made bridegroom, but returned
yesterday from his bridal-trip, say, rather
thickly, " Believe me, my wife is supremely
beautiful."
I advanced suddenly among them, and laid
my hand rather heavily on his shoulder*
A Diplomat's Diary. 199
" Let him alone, let him alone! " cried the
others.
" Boudiet ochin viessielo ! "
" Nietchevo, it is only fun," said Berg ; but I
did not release my hold on the silly youth.
" Who are you ?" he lisped. " Are you of
the police? I was just explaining to these
gentlemen "
"Are you not ashamed of yourselves," I
asked, angrily, of the group of thoughtless
fellows, among whom I recognized some
friends and many acquaintances, " to make
this fool's young bride the subject of your
jests?"
" If you say I am a fool, you lie," muttered
d'H.
The young men suddenly seemed to feel
rather ashamed of themselves, while Berg said,
in a loud voice, " I was beginning to think
myself they had gone about far enough."
" Perhaps I have had too much wine,"
muttered d'H., under his breath, and he did
200 A Diplomat's Diary.
not struggle with me, and allowed himself to
be propelled from the room.
"Young man," I said to him, once out upon
the sidewalk, " be wise in time. Do not insist
that others should appreciate your happiness."
I could have laughed with the rest at the
betise of a man's boasting of his young wife's
charms to a party of unscrupulous and fiery
gallants had not my disgust dampened my
sense of humour; and then I gave him a little
shove into the snow, and, hailing a passing
gani, was whirled home.
February 26.—Before breakfast I met little
Madame d'H. and her mother on my way to
the Anitchkoff. I looked in vain at the young
woman for some marks of the tragedy which
should already have touched her. The ladies
were emerging from the Mala Sadovaya, and
intent, they told me, upon a turquoise hunt in
the Oriental shops of the Nevsky Prospect. I
wished myself to look in at one of these depots
of Persian and Turkish wares for a Caucasian
A Diplomat's Diary. 201
dagger set in curious stones I had heard Mrs.
Acton admire, and which I thought might be
deftly concealed in a bunch of roses. I there-
fore walked for a few moments beside the
mother and daughter. They were both bus-
tling and busy ; profuse in idle chatterings,
the younger one, with her open pink nostrils
and light eyes, looking for all the world like a
pretty China rabbit.
"Adolph told me this morning he had met
you at the club yesterday—no, it must have
been to-day," she said, giggling. " He is not
up yet. Do you believe it, mamma ?"
" Clubs are ruining our youth," said the
mother, severely, " both in morals and in
manners.
"Ah yes, ah yes," answered Madame d'H.,
distraite, having spied some turquoise orna-
ments in the vitrine. "Cards and wine, par-
ticularly the wine. They take too much; it
is very bad for the stomach. You, monsieur,"
she said, turning towards me reprovingly, " as
202 A Diplomat"s Diary.
one of the older men, should set a better
example."
I stared blankly for a moment, murmuring
some commonplace about being a poor creature
with no gracious goddess to keep me at home,
and left with a profound salutation, less to the
young woman herself than to her innocence,
ruse, or frivolity.
February 27.—My lady accorded me to-day,
perhaps as a reward for discreet behaviour,
what might have been a great joy. She met
me at the Hermitage; but two little incidents,
one unimportant, one more serious, marred all
of my hard-earned content. I was there punc-
tually, waiting beneath the monolith of Fin-
land granite. She floated in at the great front
entrance between its splendid stooping figures
(all honour to Leo von Klenze !), like some bird
of rich plumage from a warmer clime seeking
shelter from out the frozen day. She bade her
servant care for her furs, and, then, turning to
A Diplomat's Diary. 203
"You can to-day exemplify your nation's
love of tyranny," she said. " I put myself
absolutely into your hands for guidance. I will
follow you through this labyrinth of wonders
wherever you lead me. You will not find me
perverse ; I promise to be docile."
I thanked her for the word which gave me
a delicious sense of mastery and of care-taking
over her, my geliebte! I began by giving her
a lecture on Greek art, and she listened
with that eager attention so flattering to the
speaker and that no one can accord 01* with-
hold more effectually. I bade her admire
the supple limbs of the draped goddess who
has long held me in thrall, and told her
that I had perceived from the first moment
of her apparition in the drawing-rooms of
the Sergievskaia a marked resemblance in
her figure to that of this pet statue of
mine.
" If a small bust and a large waist answer to
the rules of beauty then indeed I must be
204 -A Diplomat's Diary.
correct; but what would the French mantua-
makers say ?"
" What do they say ? "
" Oh, that I have a particular chic, a type of
my own, which enables me to carry off my . . .
defects and persuade people that I am well
made. But I mean what do they say when my
back is turned ? I believe, however, Mr. Worth
approves of me. He makes me stand about for
hours while he drapes Greek gowns upon
me."
" Your figure is perfect," I said, hotly. " Look
at the statues of the modern French school!
Take those feet and waists, distorted as were
those of the grisettes who threw off their corsets
and their tight shoes to pose to the artist as a
Venus or a Minerva; then turn and see the
tranquil ease of my lady here. There is not an
angle !"
" I am very jealous of her," said Mrs. Acton,
laughing ; " but you mus^ confess she looks a
trifle stupid. Do I ? "
A Diplomat's Diary. 205
So we moved on, and, oh, I was happy ! I
was struck as usual with the purity of her taste,
the justness of her appreciation and criticisms.
When we grew tired of the Marmor Bilder we
amused ourselves examining the Kertch collec-
tion, with its Scythian, Siberian, and Oriental
marbles. The objects found at Kief greatly
interested my fair companion. Among them is
that gold medal of Chernigoff's which bears the
Slavonic inscription, " Lord, aid thy servant
Basil ! " These amulets were worn around the
necks of the Russian princes and their wives,
and as Saint Vladimir took the name of Basil,
when baptized, this probably belonged to him.
A jasper tazza in the gallery of Piotre Veliki, a
plume which the Shah of Persia presented to
the hero Suwarrow, who hastened to lay it at
Catharine's feet, tea-services, caskets of silver,
vermeil crystal and glass, Catharine's jewelled
walking-sticks, a hundred objects from the
Korghiz steppes,—all seemed to bewitch Mrs.
Acton, and I could with difficulty tear her
206 A Diplomat's Diary.
away from their contemplation. By-and-by we
ascended the vast stairs which led up to the
picture-galleries.
While we wandered about we chatted, and I
drew from my breast-pocket a few verses which
I had translated from the Russian text for her
into German. It was a pretty musical thing,
and at the first word or two I read off for her
she took it into her pretty head she must
then and there hear the whole. I was rather
averse, I confess, to sitting down and reading
my madrigal in so public a place, even though
the great halls were almost all deserted at
this early hour; but ce que femme veut Dieu
vent, and in a few moments we were occupy-
ing two high-backed gilded chairs under the
shadow of a great porphyry vase which adorns
one of the apartments dedicated to Dutch
art.
" I must hear it now," she said, like the wilful
child that she is, " this very minute, every sweet
little word of it."
A Diplomat's Diary. 207
Her docility, it seemed, had already evapo-
rated, and, as usual, powerless to resist her, I
meekly began to spell out the ill-written, some-
what jumbled lines. It was called " Unshed
Tears," and was about as foolish and morbid
as Slavonic melancholy can be made, with
an added grain of Celtic ardour. I had almost
reached its last wail when the rustle of gar-
ments made us look up, and the old Countess
de Barythine and Madame Soltikoff passed
up the floor. They hesitated a moment as
if to stop and speak with us, but on second
thoughts, exchanging rapid and somewhat
significant glances, they concluded to walk on,
only pausing long enough to bow. I must
admit I felt like an idiot in my troubadour
attitude, and a little vexed at Mrs. Acton's
thoughtlessness in thus inviting criticism upon
herself. In these things we are not in sym-
pathy. If she noticed my annoyance she
made no comment; she listened in silence to
the poem, which I ended rather hurriedly,
2o8 A Diplomat's Diary.
commended its sentiment and my talents as
a translator, thanked me graciously, and,
making a roll of the bit of paper, slipped it
into her glove, where it lay snug and warm
against the palm of her hand. We were just
shaking off the slight restraint which this little
episode and the possible reappearance of our
acquaintances had cast upon us when a new,
and this time more unexpected, occurrence
served to give me food not now for vexation,
but for positive pain. Certainly with Daphne
one does not languish for lack of emotions.
As we were listlessly walking through a
room crowded with stiff-necked ladies of the
true Dutch type, with high foreheads and wide
ruffs, varied by landscapes whose blue skies
served as a background for very green trees
and very yellow cows, our attention was simul-
taneously arrested by the life-size portrait of
a young lad. In my poetic frenzy I had for-
gotten my catalogue, and left it upon one of
the gilded chairs; but I had seen this striking
A Diplomat's Diary. 209
picture before, and believed it to be one of the
Stuart kings done in his boyhood by a great
Dutch painter, probably Vandyke. The pic-
ture struck me then as it had struck me on
former occasions, as a masterpiece. The boy,
who might have been about fifteen, stood near
a dark curtain, whose shadow fell upon with-
out darkening his face, in a reposeful, graceful
attitude, one hand resting upon the table.
He was dressed in a sombre velvet doublet,
and in the picturesque fashion of his day.
The face was full, with the slightly-rounded
features and indistinct outlines of lingering
childhood. The lips were dewy, and red as
a woman's, yet were not devoid of a certain
dignity and power. The chin, which was ex-
quisite in its contour, was at once imperious
and sensuous. It was a face which one felt
might under evil influences grow animal and
coarse; but at this early age it was as yet only
tender and loving, and it seemed probable that
it might remain charming even into manhood.
P
21 o A Diplomat's Diary.
The hair, cut low and square across the
brow, and hanging at each side upon the
shoulders, was of a rich brown colour, thick
and curly. The brow itself, earnest and a little
frowning, overshadowed two deep-set eyes of
an indistinct blue-grey colour ; their dominating
expression was one of sadness. One might
go*further and say that they had in them as
they met the gaze the suggestion of a vague
reproach. It was as if they were searching in
the eyes that met them to detect some spark
of disloyalty or faithlessness, and to reward it
with a passionate contempt. The _ whole of
the lithe, youthful, princely figure was tinged
with something pathetic, with a strange mel-
ancholy and fascination. I had for a moment
been so absorbed in my contemplation of its
beauty that I had not looked at Mrs. Acton.
When I did so, I know not why, my heart
stood still. It was like the shock of some fatal
presage. I had turned to say to her, " What a
distinguished face!" but the words died out
A Diplomats Diary. 211
half uttered on my lips. Entirely oblivious of
my very existence, Daphne stood with clasped
hands before the picture, drinking in its
minutest detail. I was struck not only by the
dejected droop of her whole person, but by a
look of positive terror which seemed to fix her
eyes upon those of the youthful king. For
fully ten minutes, to me an eternity, she *re-
mained immovable, speechless, evidently under
the influence of some terrible and overpowering
agitation. I touched her shoulder. " Come ! "
I said, with dry lips, and almost sternly.
She turned and looked at me. Her eyes
were sunken; her features looked pinched.
She shook off my touch and shrank away from
me, cowering, looking about her as if for some
way of escape.
" I wish," she said, " that the earth would
swallow me! "
" What is it ? " I asked, angrily. " What is
this new torture you inflict upon me? What
is this picture to you ? What does your past
P 2
2\2 A Diplomat's Diary.
hold which it recalls ? Is it a dead husband, or
a living lover ?" The words were cruel, but
jealousy makes us so.
She did not deign to reply, but, as if spell-
bound, continued to look at the boy's lovely
face until great tears welled up into her eyes.
" Oh, darling," I said, " have pity, forgive
me, come away ! "
But she shook me off. " How dare you ? "
she said. " What are you to me ? "
I left her side and made my way to one
of the windows, looking out with eyes that
saw not into the square, half hidden by the
troubled mist of fast-falling snow. I do not
know how long I stood there. By-and-by I
heard her light step behind me. She seemed
to walk as if in a dream. A gust of icy wind
from an open window about which some men
were at work seemed suddenly to awaken
her from her stupor. She passed her hand two
or three times over her brow, as if to efface ari
enduring image,
A Diplomat's Diary. 213
" Forgive me, monsieur," she said, gently,
"if I have been unkind to you. Some day I
will explain all to you, and what those eyes
have said to me, but to-day I cannot, I cannot."
I could not trust myself to answer her, and
only offered her my arm silently. She took it,
and we went slowly down the corridor and
then the stairs. Outside a fine bright hurri-
cane was blowing about. Mrs. Acton's coach-
man was standing on the sidewalk talking
with Madame Soltikoff's footman. They were
stamping their feet and tossing their arms
to and fro, trying to keep warm while their
mistresses lingered in the galleries.
I escorted Mrs. Acton to her sleigh, begged
her to wrap up her throat, but I did not look
at her, and when she faltered, " Sh^ll I see you
to-night?" I answered, "No, not to-night."
She had shrunk from me as if I were a leper
or some noisome thing, and I could not forget.
All the way home this thought stung me into
the intensest anger ; but when the first rage of
214 A Diplomat's Diary.
jealousy and of doubt was spent I fell into a
mood of great dismay.
March 7.—I have kept from her for eight
long, cursed days. God alone knows the
misery of those wretched hours. I can exist
no longer.
March 9.—Yesterday in the morning I
went to her. She had sent me many sum-
monses, but I had not heeded them. What
was I in her life ? Had she not asked me ? I
found her alone. She received me, as I
thought, coldly, and all the pent-up fire that
had burned within my heart surged to my lips.
I think I must have found the untutored
eloquence which genuine pain teaches, that cry
of the heart whose sincerity is its force.
" I know," I said, " that at that moment
some memory of your old life in far-off
America held you, and that you hated your
present and me. But see! I was thrown
away from you like a vile despised thing, and
like a vile despised thing I have crawled back
A Diplomat's Diary. 215
to your feet. Daphne, listen, I will know the
truth ! I have given you now every aspiration
of my life, its every hope and dream. It is
too late to recall them. I will follow you
like a dog to the ends of the earth if you
command me, throw to the winds all I have
toiled for all these years, every ambition of
youth, every hope of fame, or lift you to my
side and proudly proclaim you my crown, my
sovereign, before a world that you are made
to adorn, but to-day I stand before you to
know the truth from your own lips. If you
have smiled upon me to fan some vain vagary
born of your vanity or your idleness, given
me in exchange for the best my soul can offer
you only the husks of a woman's fitful fancy,
be generous, speak, while I could yet forgive
you, speak while I could yet thank you for a
disillusion that shall be complete enough to
save us both ! Do not debase me further, for
to-morrow I may throw even my honour at
your feet. If anything stands between us,
216 A Diplomat's Diary.
either in your present or your past, let it be no
chimera. If it be flesh and blood I shall
conquer, but I can no longer fight shadows.
Daphne, I am consumed with my love for you.
The first time that I saw you it was the same.
Lay your cool hand upon my forehead, dear.
Help me, I love you ! "
She had listened to me in perfect silence,
but when I had finished, like a whirlwind she
rushed forward to me, heedless, reckless ; she
threw her arms out towards me crying,
"Pardon, pardon!" Then, standing close to
me, she whispered three words, three words
swiftly, in French. Three words! A life's
history. I knew that they were true ; I had
read them on those pure lips for which I had
so pined. But ah, when they were mine at
last, imprisoned, when I drank in great
draughts of their hot, delicious sweetness!
It was no timid girl's shrinking kiss which
met my own, but the caress of a passionate
queen. There was no need of any further
A Diplomat's Diary. 217
words. I was too intoxicated with my happi-
ness to demand any assurances then, and she,
poor child, seemed like one weary of strug-
gling, and glad to rest quietly for a moment in
my arms. Before we parted she told me that
the picture had reminded her of one who loved
her and who had been woven into her life. She
seemed to suffer so terribly at the allusion that
I shrank at the sight of her pain. I know that
this was weakness, but, with the moisture of her
lips yet upon mine, how could I torment her ?
If her kiss was for farewell, God help me, for
her lips after their supreme surrender made me
no promises. She has, on the contrary, ex-
pressly declared that she must return at once
to her own country, and that I am not to follow
her until she bids me come. I am no effem-
inate voluptuary; I can serve for her seven
years, if need be. There must be some en-
tanglement in her life, and the moment I had
left her a hundred serpents of doubt were
again stinging my heart.
218 A Diplomat's Diary.
In the evening, knowing I should find her
there, I went to the Italians. When I entered
and walked to my seat she and Mrs. North
were already in their loge. She was all in
white. Berg leaned over her, keeping a
jealous eye on me from behind her shoulder,
and she, insouciante, and at the same time ani-
mated, seemingly interested in his words, yes,
I actually saw her once lean back and laugh !
Prince L., who sat by me, insisted on recount-
ing the adventures in Petersburg of La Silva
who was giving us Carmen in its coarsest form ;
but while she warbled "La has, la bas sous la
montagne," and the old man gossiped, I was
nervously clutching my opera-glass and looking
up like an idiot at Mrs. Acton, to see whether I
could detect what was passing in her mind.
She nodded to me, and I vowed to make her
wait for me, and know for once what waiting
means ; but when the act was over I gave up
all my strategy and went up to her box like
her dog, which I am. She extended two gloved
A Diplomat's Diary. 219
fingers, motioning me to a seat behind her
aunt. She seemed to be coquetting with Berg,
and to relegate me to a second place, and I
asked myself for the hundredth time whether it
was indeed this woman or some other whom I
had that day crushed against my breast. When
I had reached the last stage of depression she
suddenly turned and gave me a radiant smile,
with tender, quivering lips, and my spirit leaped
up again to her with its accustomed worship.
They promised to breakfast with me to-morrow,
but, except superficially, we had no opportunity
for any talk, and with this meagre diet I had
to be content.
March 10.—Mrs. North accompanied her
niece, and I asked Berg and Prince Safvet and
little Madame de Barythine and her devoted
Dmitri. I was more agitated at the idea that
Daphne would cross my threshold than when,
a young officer of twenty, a royal visit was
expected at the Caserne. I passed the morn-
ing in gross violation of my promise to confer
2 20 A Diplomat's Diary.
with Narishkine at the Ministry, and in abso-
lute neglect of all my official duties, trying to
bring my rooms to such a state of order as
would commend them to my lady's eyes. I per-
sonally superintended Gustav's and August's
disposition of the table and flowers, the
bric-a-brac and furniture, sofas, chairs, cush-
ions, and fires. I passed in review the various
photographs which adorned the mantel and
etagires, and confiscated such as might arouse
a moment's uneasiness in the breast of my
lovely guest.
I will say here, in parenthesis, that I might
have spared myself the trouble, as she did not
once glance in the direction of those which
remained. Daphne, unlike other women, is
never eager or curious. But is she loving ?
She has certainly fully fathomed the power of
indifference, an indifference which seems to
acknowledge and grant no claims. She leaves
one absolutely free, but this magnanimity is
bitter-sweet!
A Diplomat's Diary. 221-
Among the photographs which I threw into
the fire was one of Nathalie's totso which I
had left upon my table, because of a certain
nervous strength in the outline which had
caught my fancy. She had sent it to me since
her hasty flight from Russia after Strogonoff's
suicide, with a newspaper clipping expatiating
on her Viennese triumphs. One night after
dancing the Kamarinskaia she was called out
fifteen times, covered with flowers, and one of
her slippers was put up at auction and sojd for
two thousand marks. " My cheeks were wet
with tears," she wrote, " for it was poor Stro-
gonofif who first taught me that dance, and I
thought of him, of Russia, and of you, cruel
man, whose horrible heartlessness has not yet
killed my love. In a P. S. she adds, " They
say she is going back to America without you."
Where did the little viper get this bit of
information, I wonder!
I left some family portraits and all those of
the royalties ; while Flavie's, with her hair in
2 22 A Diplomat's Diary.
bandeaux; had such an air of respectability and
austere virtue that I allowed it to remain upon
the etagbre over which she has presided ever
since I unpacked. Poor girl! and yet how truly
these women who know no arts can love us!
So Daphne came. How dear she was! and
she seemed happy; and how thankful was I
that my adored one should bring her loveliness
to grace my poor table !
The breakfast, which had given me some
anxiety, was excellent, and the ladies' bouquets
seemed to please .them. The conversation was
animated and every one at ease and apparently
well content. Dmitri, to be sure, was tiresome,
fulfilling the assertion that "There is nothing
so fatiguing as the conversation of a lover who
has nothing to hope and nothing to fear."
Mrs. Acton, who declares herself accomplished
in chirosophy, read my hand's lines during the
dejeuner; causing much merriment thereby. " I
see," she said, "impulsive valour mingled with
a certain inflexibility. It is eminently a hand
A Diplomat's Diary. 223
of activity. You are a soldier, not a philo-
sopher. Women will only have such influence
upon your destiny as you choose to accord
them. You are ambitious, master of yourself,
eminently conservative, with an immense re-
spect for authority."
Some one begged to look at her hand. " My
hand," she said, "betokens love of change, an
American's lamentable absence of reverence,
and acute dislike of being bored."
" Does it not betoken some cruelty ?" I
asked, low.
" No," she replied ; " pitifulness has been my
bane. I am cruel only to myself."
"Are you sure of this?" I asked, laugh-
ing. "Did anybody ever, bore you . . . and
live?"
" It is evident," turning to her aunt, " that
monsieur has not stopped in country-houses
in America. People have bored me there by
the hour, and I regret to say that they still
survive."
224 A Diplomat's Diary.
" Daphne, how can you be so unpatriotic ? "
cried Mrs. North.
"The nice people always leave the day they
are wanted, and the dull ones remain until one
is ready to curse God and die."
" I don't doubt you have often treated people
so, Daphne," said Mrs. North.
" Thank you, ma tante, for the compliment.
I don't wonder you think I am one of those
who stop too long."
" Don't angle for compliments. You know
perfectly well you think yourself one of the
nice ones who always leave too soon. But
surely no one ever departed from Quimby
before you desired. .She is a spoilt little
thing," she said, turning to me.
" Quimby is your country home, is it not ? "
"Yes, and a dear place."
" Do you.miss it ? " She was on my left, and
I could catch her words. There was a ring of
self-scorn in her low-tones.
" I have thought lately that if I could blot
A Diplomat's Diary. 225
out America and all I own there, and all of my
past and all of my probable future, and just live
to-day, cevodnia, this Russian day, this Russian
hour, this Russian moment, forever and forever,
I should be glad." The last "word was a sigh.
I felt myself grow pale with the nearness
of her terrible loveliness. Berg sat with wide
eyes, not hearing her, but gazing at her as
if hypnotized. The others were still looking*
at each other's hand-lines. Little Madame
de Barythine wished to have her hand read,
and Dmitri's. She seized Mrs. Acton's across
Berg, comparing it with her own.
" What is this deep line you have crossing
your palm ?"
" Ah, that is my safeguard, stronger to a
woman than religion or morality."
" And that is "
"The fear of disgust. Do you not think,"
she continued, addressing the fair Wasia, " that
the fear of disgust is a rampart for us to hide
behind ?"
Q
226 A Diplomats Diary.
Madame de Barythine adjusted her lorgnon,
but not finding this " safeguard " in her own
pink palm, turned and gazed helplessly about
the table. " Elle est drole! " she said, under
her breath, and then she turned and chided
Dmitri for being so dull.
The morning waned. All I have of her
now is the vague perfume which she has left
behind her, and a little forgotten veil, which
I have fallen upon and fairly devoured.
March 11.—My proch is won. The offending
editor has been locked up for six months. It
should have been for six years. The court is
all wreathed in smiles of congratulations.
Humph! The Empress has given me her
picture, and lisped some friendly words to me
as I bowed over her outstretched fingers.
Even the Czar's impenetrable visage lighted
up with its rare smile. There is a rout at the
Anitchkoff. The maids of honour are very
condescending and gracious ; they flutter about
like little butterflies, with their knots of blue
A Diplomat's Diary. 227
ribbon caught on their left shoulders in their
diamond monograms. Daphne is not there,
but the . thought of her lends wings to my fancy,
and I let myself be cajoled and petted, while
my mind wanders off to that " gay to-morrow "
in which one's mistress is never cold. I am in
a good humour. When I reach home I enclose
two thousand roubles in an envelope, and direct
them to the far-off address in the slumbering
provinces where the editor's family await -the
term of his punishment. They are poor.
March 12.—We seem to have drifted back,
at her desire, into our old relations. I will
not be importunate or indelicate. Something
tells me that to press my suit too boldly now
would be to jeopardize my own happiness.
She will accord me no more favours, and I must
perforce bow to her decree.
This afternoon she deigned to visit with me
the Church of Our Lady of Kazan. I was, as
usual, early at the rendezvous. On entering
the church I found a marriage in progress.
Q 2
228 A Diplomat's Diary.
The singers were shouting " Let Isaiah
rejoice ! " in their most jubilant voices, and the
great cathedral seemed to tremble in a re-
sponsive sympathy to the joyful hymns of
the choristers. As I drew near to the circle
of friends and the few stragglers whom the
ceremony had attracted the bride and groom
were just moistening their lips at the cup
which is termed the cup of bitterness. I watched
them as they. walked three times round the
altar, while the pages followed them with pains-
taking outstretched arms, holding over their
heads the golden crowns. The bride's taper
seemed in dangerous proximity to her veil. She
had a funny little pug nose, was blonde,
commonplace, and composed, while the groom,
a mere boy, looked frightened to death. They
then prostrated themselves before the Virgin of
the Iconostase, while I wandered away a little,
wondering why Mrs. Acton did not arrive.
When the wedding-guests had dispersed
I returned to this ancient Virgin, hoping
A Diplomat's Diary. 229
her serenity might quiet my impatience. She
was brought from Kazan in 1579, and is
incrusted with fabulously valuable jewels,
among them that great sapphire presented
to her by the Grand Duchess Catharine
Paulovna, and a huge diamond which was
floated down the Volga by Ivan Vassilievitch
to Moscow, and.thence to Petersburg by Peter
the Great. The verger seemed to disapprove
of my long contemplation, and jostled me as
he passed, and I moved on to examine the
military trophies which make of this church a
species of arsenal. I paused a moment by
the tomb of General Prince Smolenskoi, who
prayed upon this spot before going to battle,
and it was here that Mrs. Acton found me.
"True to your martial predilections," she
said. We walked about the church together,
speaking little, but upon me was that sense of
ecstasy which her presence ever brings. By-
and-by we sat down side by side under a
swinging lamp, and watched a bent old woman
230 A Diplomat's Diary.
mumbling her prayers. At last we came out
under the colonnade and paced up and down,
waiting for the North's equipage, which was
to be sent back for Mrs. Acton from the
Xaviers' reception, whither her aunt had gone.
Mrs. Acton spoke of the hope and consolation
the Russian seems to find in his religion.
"After all," she said, "old age has nothing
else. What shall I do when I am old ? Mine
is such a fitful faith."
I interrupted her, beginning to speak of the
pleasures of age and its compensations. She
lifted her hand and made a motion as if to lay
it across my lips.
" I know all you would say. In your family
you have a beloved, gentle-souled old lady, or
an uncle of ninety who has kept his front
teeth, and you yourself anticipate, nay,^ feel
sure, that the end of your life shall be digni-
fied and serene. No doubt, no doubt we can
all find among the wrecks of life a few in-
stances of arrested decay, where the body—
A Diplomat's Diary. 231
and even the heart—have been tenderly dealt
with by fate, but oh, vion ami I old age at the
best is hideous, and how futile and superficial
is the intercourse of the young and of the old.
How restive they make us ! Have you ever
knelt at some veteran's feet and asked him
almost with agony to show you the way ?
Have you craved to open yourself to him in
confidence, longing for his guidance ? I will
wager that the answer was either impatient
rebuke or cowardly evasion. The mind
grows lazy, the heart torpid. I think the
passions have no memory when they do not
crystallize into malice. Older people have
harassed me with censure, with ill-timed,
foolish counsels, have quarrelled with, fretted
at, and well-nigh distracted me ; but where is
the calm, just spirit which, looking back on
the battle and its dust, on its humbling defeats
and hardly-won triumphs, praises, pities, en-
courages, saying, 'Thus and thus was it with
me ; take heart, child !' No ; depend upon
232 A Diplomat's Diary.
it, monsieur, old people are horribly frivolous,
busy with petty and soul-debasing trifles, and
that is why I pity them so profoundly.—
Have you ever been very angry?" she asked
me suddenly, as if following some train of
recollection.
" Yes, very."
"When?"
" Last night, with Berg, when he looked at
you as he did."
" And how was that ? "
" Abominably, and you do not resent it."
" What folly ! I do not even see the man."
"Well, I do, and I grow murderous."
"Nonsense! I don't believe you. I mean
very, very, very angry ? "
" Have you been so ? "
"Yes."
"Tell me about it."
" Ah, there too were older people who should
have helped me ! I had sacrificed my life, my
youth, and then . . . they failed me . . . they
A Diplomat's Diary. 233
would not understand." She spoke with sup-
pressed feeling, as if at the memory of some
deeply-resented wrong.
" And you were angry ?"
" Don't let me talk of it," she said, hurriedly ;
''mine is not a forgiving nature."
As she spoke she stepped quickly out from
under the arcade into the square, whither I
followed her, and we were startled to find that
it was almost night. I peered about in vain,
for the sleigh and Alexei were nowhere to be
seen. My own equipage was being walked
hither and thither, up and across the Nevsky,
where the usual crowd were promenading with
concealed faces, unreal and shadowy. The
statues of Smolenskoi and Barclay de Tolly
stood out against the dying day on an horizon
gemmed with stars.
" How very strange ! " Mrs. Acton shivered
slightly, coming out from the shelter into the
cold. With me she leaves always a warmth
and light, and I feel neither cold nor darkness
234
A Diplomat's Diary.
by her side. I offered her my sleigh, but I saw
her hesitate.
" It is so well known, so conspicuous," she
said, a little nervously.
" You cannot stand here any longer," I said,
authoritatively, and hailed a miserable drosky,
dismissing my own conveyance. I motioned
to my servant to jump on the box, and had
soon ensconced Mrs. Acton in a corner of the
wretched vehicle, and myself by her side.
It is not customary in Petersburg for a
young woman to drive alone through the
streets at dusk with any man, much less with
one who must, by this time, be well known in
her world as an ardent admirer. I felt vexed
for her, and could see that she was herself
annoyed. The perfect composure, however,
the die once cast, with which she accepted the
irremediable, and her avoidance of the subject
during our homeward drive, struck me as
distinctly high-bred. My proud darling !
Light women explain, flush, play the prude
A Diplomat's Diary. 235
at the " Qu'en dira-t-on ?" Daphne is sure
of herself. She never explains anything, and
allows others to form their own conclusions.
This haughtiness is dear to me, with its assur-
ance of an innate purity. As she arranged
her draperies I felt as if she were encased in
armour.
The young woman was safe from any whisper
of mine, even in praise of her grace and her
beauty, nor would I have dared remind her
that her lips had once for one moment been
mine. How we stout-hearted warriors quail
before a woman's possible displeasure! During
our homeward drive we exchanged few words,
and 1 these remained within the bounds of the
most absolute reserve. Why is it that the
very first time I saw this lady I felt as does
the swimmer when he passes from the shallow
into the ocean waters ? They look like the
others; they are still, quiet, and alluring, but
he knows that he has slipped into the deeps.
He hears the light sigh of the beginnings of
236 A Diplomat's Diary.
life ; nameless creatures press around him,
whose shapes are unfamiliar, and he shivers,
for he knows he has entered into the untried
seas.
March 13.—I wonder whether what she says
of me is true : that I am too conservative ?
Have I already in me the germs of that
narrowness which she so deprecates in the old ?
She once said that perfectly-satisfied people
could never be reformers. She was right.
March 14.—Reading one of Dostoievsky's
dolorous stories. How different from the
laboured grossness of the French writers of
to-day is the realism of these Russians! It
has kept in touch with the heartaches of the
world, and has a sympathy which the French
have lost. One never hears the ricanement of
its unbelief. There is still left a breath of the
illimitable. I read a little from the original.
This boneless, supple tongue charms me,
although I am stupid at grasping its intrica-
cies. And what a queer people, with their
A Diplomat's Diary. 237
intense patriarchal institutions, taking refuge
under the wings of an absolute throne!
" Pourri avant d'etre mure !" We shall see.
I fell to singing the words of Tutchef:
" Comme le globe terrestre
Est enveloppd de l'ocean,
Ainsi la vie terrestre
Est entouree de songes."
Is my passion, too, a dream ?
March 15.—We court-fossils are accustomed
to breathe only evil smells or perfumes.
These Americans seem to bring us fresher air.
How it woos the enfeebled lungs! Air! air !
Near her I feel the dust of my old prejudices
blow away. She told me to-day, suddenly,
that she must return to America. I try in
vain to combat her resolve. My pleadings
seemed only to agitate her, and my prayers
were useless.
March 17.—Mrs. North, in her bizarre,
rapid way, said to me this evening, " I wish
Daphne to accompany me to the Riviera, where
238 A Diplomat's Diary.
I am going while Mr. North runs over to
America for a few weeks to look after his
private affairs; but she insists that she must
return with her uncle, and grows excited if I
urge her to remain. In fact, she seems in
feverish haste to start. I don't pretend to
understand her, and I doubt whether anybody
ever will, unless, indeed, monsieur," she added,
smiling, " you have fathomed her. I wish we
might yet persuade her to remain among us.
I confess I have thought her very happy here.
I am afraid," she continued, lowering her voice,
" that she is contemplating something self-
sacrificing and uncomfortable, and her sacri-
fices are apt to be tremendous."
I am profoundly distressed. I now feel sure
that she hides - some entanglement from me,
and I also feel sure that it is nothing which in
any way casts discredit upon herself. I will
trust to the nobility of her nature and place
all my hope in the future. In a few weeks, at
best, I can follow her and know my fete. I
A Diplomat's Diary. 239
cannot persecute her now. She seems un-
happy.
March 28.—She is gone !
Leaning on her uncle's arm, in her dark-red
coat with its black furs, she entered the gave.
A large party had come to see her off. I
stood in the shadow. She carried my flowers
in her hands, and a knot of them at her throat.
She looked pale under her little toque and
black veil. Her eyes sought me. I stepped
forward quickly to her side into the garish
light. People who were hurrying hither and
thither stopped and stared at our party, for
we formed a group in striking contrast to the
rest of the waiting crowd, the women in light
dinner dresses only half concealed by their
dark wraps, and the men in full evening
toggery. She leaves them all ; she draws
away her hand from her uncle's arm and places
it in mine. The others fall back, seeming to
understand, and gather about Mrs. North,
who is also leaving for the south. Mr. North
240 A Diplomat"s Diary.
accompanies his niece to America. The first
Secretary of Legation, who is to be chargd
during the Minister's short absence, is piloting
Mrs. North, and maids and menservants
come after, laden with bags and furs.
Enigmatical to the last, Mrs. Acton per-
emptorily forbids me to follow her immedi-
ately. " I must go back to my own country,"
she says, hurriedly. "Until then I can say
nothing. I will write you at once. I will
write, I promise. Ask me no further questions,
but remember you are free."
"No," I answer; "I am not free, for I love
you ! " and when I say these words she listens,
—listens with avidity, with parted lips and
dreamful eyes. What means this, if not the
token of an answering love ?
The whistle blows. A railroad official asks
me rather roughly whether I want seats, and
requests our party not to block the way of
travellers; then recognizes and salutes me,
muttering a hasty apology. An old Russian
A Diplomat's Diary. 241
woman carrying a big bundle pushes up
against us. I can almost feel Daphne's heart
beat against mine. We all step out upon the
platform. I grasp Mrs. North's hand in fare-
well. Hers is cordial, almost affectionate.
Then I hold Daphne's a moment, whispering
in her ear, " I love you until death !" There
are two crimson spots upon her cheeks now,
but she is dry-eyed. She enters the car. The
train moves off. I can see her face but dimly
through the frosty pane. The others wave
hats and handkerchiefs ; some of the women
are a little tearful. " Dobravo putie ! " they cry.
Berg is funereal. They all go away and leave
me. I mechanically raise my cap. The train
has moved out—I am alone.
April 2.—I went this evening to the Isaac-
quientski Sabor. The Chantres de la Cour
were singing for some special service. Mont-
ferrand is a clever artist. How simple and
imposing is this edifice! Built on a marsh,
how securely it seems to stand! Will it one
R
242 A Diplomat's Diary.
day crumble like our most solid hopes ? I
gazed curiously up into the prestol with its
steps of porphyry, its dome of malachite, and
its walls of lapis-lazuli. It makes the eyes
blink. I sat in a dark corner and listened to
the quaint, sad strains of the boy choristers.
The one word " gospode" rose up faintly and
far into the dome. All the others were in-
distinct. It sounded more like a plaint than
an invocation. I knelt a moment; I could
not pray, but I gazed up at the pale ardent
Christ of the great window, and His eyes
seemed to meet mine, full of a human anguish.
Later I went up to the dome. I had not made
the ascent before. When, a little breathless, I
reached the top, looking northward, I could see,
across the river, Basil's Island, and Aptekarski,
and the Gelagin, where the people go on
summer nights. The desolate fortress, in bitter
irony, looked like some enchanted palace, and
the Dvortsovy and Troitskoi bridges like
sharp, dark furrows, upon a waste of snows,
A 'Diplomat's Diary. 243
The great height calmed me. My eyes
seemed to pierce the mists Far, far, I even
fancied to where the Atlantic tosses its angry,
cruel waters. Ce lointain sans forme qui appelle
a lui. She is indeed gone.
April 11.—I walk almost daily in the
Lietne Sadou. At first the guards, with the
acumen of their class, looked encouragement
at me, as if to say, " She is late, but will yet
come." Now, after the salute, they do not
notice me. To-day they winked at each
other, as if to say, " She will come no more."
One day I must have slept from cold on one
of the benches. I awoke with a sweet, wild
tumult in my poor old heart. I thought I had
seen her shadow fall across my feet. I rose
and shook myself, and stumbled blindly out
into the deserted alleys. I like this garden
very much, although it plays me such tricks.
Of how much torture is the human brain capa-
ble ? Men have always said I was very sane.
I do not know. Let me see ? Fifteen—eighteen
F 2
244 A Diplomat's Diary.
days,—we will say twenty. Surely, surely the
letter will come soon. She said, " I will not
write until I reach New York." Twenty days
is enormous. It permits the ship to break a
shaft, and the train to be blocked for forty-
eight hours, and—fool that I am !
April 27.—One more day. If the letter be
not here to-morrow I leave for America.
What is this woman, to play so on my heart-
strings ? I hate her!
April 28.—I went to see old Madame de
Barythine. She received me in her faded
salon, with its fine hangings and pictures.
There are three portraits of herself when she
was young. She does not affect the worn-out
liveries of youth, but has the good taste and
the courage to dress as befits her age, and
to be grey-haired. A rather shabby young
man served tea in little golden cups. She
found fault with him for not being dressed,
and confided to me once more that since the
depression of the rouble and the enormous ex.
A Diplomat's Diary. 245
penditure of her husband's mausoleum she had
sent to her estates for young moujiks and tried
to train them as house servants. " But," she
added, "they are a lazy, dirty lot, and I am
entirely discouraged." Her relatives tell me
she is very rich.
Bent on entertaining me, she showed me
numerous photographs of the late Count, and
also one of the Princesse X., who she said was
his first love. " My husband," she said, " had
two loves in his life, the Princesse and myself.
He married me after this liaison was over. It
nearly broke her heart. He was a fascinating
mah. She had two sons. They are very nice
fellows. My husband always assured me that
they were not his—let us hope so. Would it
amuse you to see my jewels ? "
I followed her into a smaller drawing-room
fitted with bookcases surmounted by mirrors.
-She produced a small key from her watch-
chain, and, unlocking a drawer, pulled it open,
and, taking up a tray, quite dazzled me.
246- A Diploma? s Diary.
She scooped up and dangled before me such
magnificent black pearls, such rivers of dia-
monds and of rubies. There were turquoises,
too, that looked like robins' eggs. She en-
joyed fondling them with her fat white hands.
" My nieces wish me to make the disposi-
tion," she said, " but there is really no hurry.
I promise nothing. They may all yet go
to deck the icons of our parish church.
Entre nous, cher Comte, my nieces are heartless
enough hussies, not worth much. Ida would
not cross the street to give a pleasure to her
old aunt, and Wasia,—well, Wasia is charming
enough, but . . . you know what they say.
By the way, how do you live on without your
lovely American ? " And the old lady looked
up at me with keen, kind eyes.
" I am not alive at all."
<:Ah! I knew, I knew !"
She was very tactful, and spoke in praise
of my beloved. She poured balm into my
wounds, purring over me as women like to do,
A Diplomat's Diary. 247
and I sat with a sense of comfort and content
by her fireside, sipping her tea and listening to
her soft garrulity.
" Eh ! Why not, why not ? She is free,
she is rich ; it would be excellent, perfect.
They are very pretty, these Americans, and
clever too, I imagine ; a little accentuated, per-
haps, but what will you have, my dear ? The
world must move on, and one must march with
it. My Figaro tells me in their large cities
they have quite a society. It is wonderful!
Qilen dirait Bismarck ? Eh !" And she
chuckled.
And I, who hate visits and ugly old women,
sat on, dreading to move out into the outside
wilderness of the world.
April 30.—When Gustav opened my shut-
ters this morning I had a sense of impending
doom. My porter came up with that triste,
confused, and irresolute manner which char-
acterizes nearly all these sons of the pallid
steppes, and is in such quaint contrast with the
248 A Diplomat's Diary.
robustness of their appearance, a look as if
they were in contemplation of something
puzzling and elusive. He came to tell me that
the mail-train had met with an accident and
was delayed at Eydt-Kuhnen, and that the
papers and letters would not be delivered until
noon. A messenger from the Embassy had
stopped to bring me these tidings. He went
off humming a Slav ditty, the folk-lore of the
fishermen on the great rivers and of the Cos-
sacks of the Ukraine, which he doubtless
learned in childhood in his village of the
Don. These songs are full of a burning ten-
derness and melancholy, and seem to rest with
sorrow upon one's heart. Perhaps it' was this
song, indistinctly heard, which had caused me
to awaken with a peculiar expectation.
When the courier did at last arrive I knew
that my hour had come. I did not open my
letter then ; it burned me. I hurried into my
coat and cap and got out into the street. I
was hardly conscious of whither I went unt*vl
A Diplomat's Diary. 249
the old guards of the Lietne Sadou saluted
me. I had, indeed, crossed the square and the
bridge like a somnambulist. The air was soft
and heavy. There was that lurid light in the
dull sky which in summer presages thunder.
To-day I knew it was only the vapours caused
by a sudden thaw. I could hear the distant
rumbling of the cracking ice on the Neva ; the
pulsation of its imprisoned waters came to
me, half stifled, like the sigh of a hidden and
distrustful life. Soon the river would be break-
ing up ; soon the great ice-blocks would come
floating down from Lake Ladoga.
I found my way to a seat where we had
often rested together, near the Czar's tea-
house. It was a quiet alley under the drip-
ping trees, one of our favourite spots. I sat
down, and, with fingers which trembled, I
opened my great coat, unfastened the breast of
my uniform, and drew forth the letter. But
I still hesitated to break the seal. No, not
yet, not yet! I turned it over and over. I
250 A Diplomat's Diary.
looked at the post-marks and the address. I
gloated over it as a miser over his ducats. I
had suffered so much! Here, where I had
loved her so wildly, where she had leaned so
near to me, I should at last read my fate. The
place was meet enough. Indoors I should
have stifled with the tumult of my emotion.
A sparrow came flying from a neighbouring
tree and tumbled about in the mud close to
my feet. It seemed very tame. I suppose it,
too, had its desires, was looking for its crumbs.
I almost wished the letter might be short. I
have faced bullets calmly, but this letter un-
nerved me. I had a foolish feeling that I
might be struck with blindness before I could
finish it. I only wanted the one word,
" Come !" But when I had opened it I saw
that it was of several pages. This is what I
read :
" Do not curse me—this is all I implore!
Oh, noblest, best, truest, bravest, of men!
when you open this letter I shall be married
A Diplomat's Diary. 251
to another. Listen! You know my first
marriage. It was nothing. He loved me. I
sacrificed myself for my family. He thought
that he was going to die at once and leave
me all and his name. I cannot go over it
now. You know enough. Well, all those
years, those years of widowed youth, when
I was estranged from my family and went
home to my splendid loneliness, poor, un-
happy child that I was, there was one who
had a care for me. Oh, how he loved and
succoured me ! He is not a hero, like you, but
he loved me. He is not beautiful as a god,
like you, but he loved me. Such a love ! So
deep, so true, so tender, so strong, so simple.
He watched over me all those years. I met
him—no matter where—in the world, I think.
He stood over and over again between me
and calumny. When I was reconciled to my
people it was through his advice and aid.
At last it came to be that all my pleasures
were the result of his sacrifices; all of my
252 A Diplomat's Diary.
peace was at the expense of his. When I was
free he wanted me, and I pledged myself un-
hesitatingly to him. But ... I could not then.
I told him to wait: he waited. I said, ' Let
me go to my uncle in Russia ; do not follow
me; there my term of mourning will expire,
and I will return and all shall be as you
desire.' I wanted time ; I had stood too close
to death.
" The first time I ever saw you I was dazzled
by your power. I have mumbled for years
' Lead us not into temptation ' upon my knees,
but in Russia I really prayed for the first time.
I almost hated you ! Do you remember the
day we passed the club, and again when you
read those verses to me at the Hermitage ?
I did it expressly. I wished to disgust and
repel you, and I did both, for a moment, I
believe, but not for long enough, and I was
weak, and we were weak, were we not . . . dear ?
But nothing that I could have done would
have repelled or disgusted him even for a
A Diplomat's Diary. 253
moment. I could never have suited you. Berg,
too, tried to harm you in my estimation. He
told me that you had a liaison with a woman
called Nathalie ; that all your world knew of it.
I did not believe him, and yet I found myself
strangely jealous, for I know that you are
charming to women. I should have been
madly jealous of you ; it would have debased
and killed me. Well, it was no use.
When I left I knew not what I should do.
After that evening my self-respect was gone.
I was, oh, how miserable ! I felt worse than
the lowest fallen. Oh, I suffered! You see
I love beautiful things too much: the life,
over there, the moonlit nights, the troi'kas
flashing over the ice, your brilliant talk, y our
courtly homage, your splendid love! Now I
must never again think of them.
" I reached the port and he came. I saw
him standing on the ugly black dock of our
great American town in the cold light of the
cjamp dawn. He had stood there half the
254 A Diplomat's Diary.
night, waiting. I shall never forget his eyes
as they first looked into mine. The sword of
his sufferings pierced my heart. My letters
had been cold and then had ceased. He knew
nothing. He grasped my hand, and his first
words were, ' Had I not had perfect faith in
your purity and in your loyalty I should have
sent a bullet through my brain long since.'
I noticed how loosely his clothes hung upon
him, and a peculiar thinness about his throat
and cheeks which are naturally full with the
roundness of health and of youth. He had not
complained ; he is not dramatic. Do you re-
member the picture in the Hermitage gallery ?
It had his mouth and his eyes, and I knew
then that if I broke with him for you they
would forever look into mine and haunt me
with an endless remorse. You had crossed
my path for an hour, but he was all bound up
with a tragic past. Yet I faltered ! but that is
over. My friend, good-bye. I shall never look
back for an hour, I once kissed your lips—do
A Diplomat's Diary. 255
you remember it ? How could God make such
treachery so sweet! I now press my own to
your forehead like a dying sister, and I pray
that the angels whom I have so offended may
give you of their peace. My friend, farewell."
For a moment after the perusal of this letter
I sat like one stricken with palsy, stupidly
looking at the little bird that was hopping
about again, pecking at the soiled snow, watch-
ing me furtively with its round silly eyes.
Then a sudden fury and despair seized me, and
I tore the letter with my teeth. I crushed and
mangled it as if it had been the soft fingers
which had dealt the cruel blow, and in so doing
I was conscious of a certain relief and pleasure.
The perfume of her hands seemed to linger on
the paper, and shook my senses with memories
of poignant sweetness. A cold sweat broke
over my forehead. I gathered up the torn bits
and threw them from me, crushing them under
my heel and spur into the snow. They were
soon an unrecognizable mass of filthy pulp.
256 A Diplomat*s Diary.
One white piece; indeed, fluttered away, and
the bird picked it up, eyeing me still timidly,
and flew off with it to build its nest. I remem-
ber I thought, " What a mockery ! "
I have no recollection of how long I sat in
the garden, how many minutes or hours I
paced its narrow walks, in frenzied haste, each
breath that I drew hurting me like a knife. I
only know that my youth died. When the
rage had spent itself, at last, I came back
and threw myself on the seat exhausted, and
then I pulled my cap down over my eyes and
wept, wept as women do at a child's disgrace
or a lover's betrayal. God grant that I may
never see her face again !
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FREEMAN, TO, Kennington Dark Jtoad, London, S.E. Free by post.
Purchasers are CAUTIONED not to have palmed upon them any substitute. See that the Trade
Mark, "The Elephant," is on the wrapper, Sfc., and the words "Freeman's Original
Chlorodtne " are engraved on the Government Stamp—which is the only true Chlorodyne.
N.B.—Lord Chancellor Selborne, Lord Justice James, and Lord Justice Mellish, de-
cided in favour of Freeman's Original Chlorodyne, and against Browne & Davbkpobt,
compelling them to pay all costs.—See Times of July 24th, 1873. [157
USED IN THE ROYAL NURSERIES.
MATTHEWS'S
PREPARED FULLERS'EARTH
Is invaluable for Protecting the Skin And Preserving the
Complexion from Winds, Redness, Roughness,
Chaps, etc.
6D. & 1s. OF ALL CHEMISTS.
SPECIALLY PURIFIED FOR THE SKIN.
This sweetly scented Emollient Milk is superior to every other
preparation for rendering the Skin
SOFT, SMOOTH, AJND WHITE.
It entirely removes and prevents all
ROUGHNESS, REDNESS, SUNBURN, CHAPS,
And all other blemishes of the Skin caused by
SUMMER'S HEAT or WINTER'S COLD.
It keeps the Skin Cool and Refreshed on the Hottest Day in
Summer, and Soft and Smooth in the Coldest Winter.
Bottles, I/, 1/9, 216. Of all Chemists and Perfumers. Free for 3d. extra by the Makers,:
M. BEETHAM & SON, CHEMISTS, CHELTENHAM.
Routledge's Railway Library Advertiser. [fssup.
r-\
■1 : • _
From the Laboratory of
THOMAS JACKSON
Strangeways, MANCHESTER.
9
THE YEAR
ROUND.
PRINCE
:-mm
)UX.
DAINTY MORSELS IN THE FORM
OF TINY SILVER BULLETS,
WHICH DISSOLVE IN THE MOUTH,
AND SURRENDER
TO THE BREATH THEIR HIDDEN
FRAGRANCE.
At 6d->
| Or by Post,
for 7d.
li'-Tv: ON'S
: CiHiESE
j OND
' .KIT
REGISTERED
Sold
in Bottles at D
6d. & Is.
Or by |
Inland Post 2
Is. 2d.
TRADE
§g
MARK.
For mending every Article of Ornament or
Furniture, China, Glass, Earthenware, etc.
Also for Mounting Cabinet Specimens of Nature
and Art. It surpasses in neatness, in strength,
and cheapness, and retains its virtues in all
climates. It has stood the test of time, and in
all quarters of the globe.
JON'S
\* IINE
• CT.
For taking out GREASE, OIL, PAINT,
&c., from Carpets, Curtains, Clothes, Drapery,
Dresses, be the material Cotton, Linen, Silk,
or Wool, or the texture Fine or Coarse.
It cleans admirably Kid Gloves and Satin
Slippers, Fans and Feathers, Books, Cards,
Manuscripts. It may be freely used to rinse
and wash Frail or Gilt Trifles, to which water
would be destructive.
At 6<L, Is^,
and 2s. Gd.
Parcel Post,
3d. extra.
• i OUGH'S
LlIC
: JLE
LDS
FOR LADIES NURSING.—By wearing the
WANSBROUGH Shields in ordinary, whilst
the nipples are healthy, they screen from all 1
external sources of irritation. They are easy to I
wear, holding on like Limpets. Sore Nipples .
heal whilst reposing in the balh of milk secreted B
within the Shields, which give at the same time |
both Comfort and Protection. |
Every box is labelled * ■ jj
WaShieldUSh SJVTadeby j
At
Is. per Pair,
or by
Inland Post,
Is. 2d.
:,» JON'S
m.
lor the removal of Hair without a I
Eazor, from the Arms, Heck, or lace, as | - At Is.
well as Sunburn or Tan. J. jnjan(j
The activity of this depilatory is notable. It j _ . Q ,
is easy and safe. It leaves a Whole Skin and 1 POSt, IS. 2d.
a Clean Complexion. |
} u>>0.
Sold by the Principal Druggists at Home.
For Abroad, at Parcels Post Rates. ^ J
1
ir
s
HONEST SOAP-
The Testimony of Half-a-Century.
5
Soap.
^ i ' * 'i
. r INDISPUTABLE EVIDENCE OF SUPERIORITY i!
FROM
Dr. REDWOOD, Ph.D., F.C.S ,F.i.C.,
! FrofsssBor of Chemistry end Pharmacy to the Phai*maceutict - q
' Society or Great Britain-
EING authorised by Messrs. Pears to purchase a"
JO* any and all times and of any deaiers samples o" !i
their Seep (thus ensuring * such samples being of exactly lj
the same quality as is supplied to the general public), and. !»
to submit same to the strictest chemical analysis, I am
enabled tc guarantee its invariable purity.
My analytical and practical experience of Pears' Soai f
now extend? over a lengthened period—NEARLY FIFTY j
YEARS—during which time |J
j
i
ssr f have never come across another
"noUet Soap which so closely realise s
my ideal of perfection J
Its purity it, cuch that it may be used with perfect con- l
rideuce upon the te iderest and" most sensitive skin —
<v :*r ihr.t of a New Born Babe."
il.