“No, these officers need just a few kinks taken
out of their brains concerning women, and I propose
to do it. I told Jimmie to-day that if he would
be handsome about to-night, I would start to-morrow
for Moscow. Mrs. Jimmie is perfectly willing,
and I know you are dying to get on to Tolstoy.
I’ve only stayed over for to-night. I knew
this was coming when we were in Ischl, and I wanted
them to see how lightly we viewed their risking dismissal
from his Majesty’s service for us. We have
paid up all our indebtedness to everybody else, so
nothing but farewell calls need detain us.”
“And the officers?” I stammered.
“How will they know?”
“I’ll get Jimmie to send them a wire saying
we have gone. They won’t know where.
Hurry up and turn out the lights. They hurt my
eyes.”
MY FIRST INTERVIEW WITH TOLSTOY
At the critical point of relating the difficulty attending
my first audience with Tolstoy, I am constrained to
mention a few of the obstacles encountered by a person
bearing indifferent letters of introduction, and if
by so doing I persuade any man or woman to write one
worthy letter introducing one strange man or woman
in a foreign country to a foreign host, I shall feel
that I have not lived in vain.
No one, who has not travelled abroad unknown and depending
for all society upon written introductions, can form
any idea of the utter inadequacy of the ordinary letter
of introduction. When I first announced my intention
of several years’ travel in Europe, I accepted
the generously offered letters of friends and acquaintances,
and, in some instances, of kind persons who were almost
total strangers to me, careless of the wording of
these letters and only grateful for the goodness of
heart they evinced.
In one instance, a man who had lived in Berlin sent
me a dozen of his visiting-cards, on the reverse side
of which were written the names of his German friends
and under them the scanty words, “Introducing
Miss So-and-So.” He took pains also to
call upon me several times, and to ask as a special
favour that I would present these letters. Forgetful
of the fact that his German acquaintances would have
no idea who I was, that there was no explanation upon
the card, and without thinking that he would not take
the trouble to write letters of explanation beforehand,
I presented these twelve cards without the least reluctance,
simply because I had given my word. Out of the
twelve, ten returned my calls and we discussed nothing
more important than the weather. We knew nothing
of each other except our names, and all of these I
dare say were mispronounced. Two out of the twelve
entertained me at dinner, and three years afterward,
when I returned to America, I received a letter of
the sincerest apology from one, saying that she had
learned more of me through the ambassador, and reproaching
me for not having volunteered information about myself,
which might have led at least to conversation of a
more intimate nature.
