anska and the Mniszechs, and furniture, carriages,
and servants, were despatched in advance. The weather, however, was an
important consideration; and on this occasion, owing to the inclemency
of the season, the roads were unfortunately impassable, so that the
pleasure trip had to be deferred from the middle till the end of
February. This was no doubt a sad disappointment to the Countess Anna,
who thereby missed much enjoyment, and the delay must have caused
intense irritation to the impatient Balzac, but Madame Hanska's
feelings on the subject remain, as usual, enigmatical.

When the Wierzchownia party at last arrived at Kiev, Madame Georges
Mniszech found plenty of gaiety awaiting her, and enjoyed herself
immensely, going out to balls in costumes of regal magnificence. Her
partners were often very rough, and on one occasion Balzac relates
that a handkerchief belonging to the young Countess, which had cost
more than 500 francs, was torn to pieces in a figure of the mazurka,
in which men contend for the dancer's handkerchief. However, "La mere
adorable" at once repaired the deficiency in her daughter's trousseau
by presenting her with one of the best of her own, "twice as nice,
with only linen enough to blow one's nose on, all the rest being
English point lace."

Balzac was unable to be present at any of these festivities, as the
journey to Kiev had caused him acute suffering; and two days after his
arrival, while he was paying his State visits to the authorities,[*]
he caught the most violent cold he had ever had, and spent the time of
his stay at Kiev in his bedroom, where his only pleasure was to see
the Countess Anna before she started for her parties, and to admire
her beautiful clothes. He ascribes his malady to "a terrible and
deleterious blast of wind called the 'chasse-neige,' which travels by
the course of the Dnieper, and perhaps comes from the shores of the
Black Sea," and which managed to penetrate to him, though he was
wrapped up with furs so that no spot seemed left for the outside air
to reach. He was now very ill, and the slightest agitation, even a
sentence spoken rather loudly in his presence, would bring on a
terrible fit of suffocation. He still hoped to return to Paris before
long, and clung to the idea that his wife would accompany him; but he
said it would be impossible to travel without a servant, as he was
unable to carry a parcel or to move quickly. As he remarks, "Tout cela
n'est pas gai!"