e
soldiers kissed the symbol of suffering passionately.

They filed into their places at the tables, and the stretchers were
placed in a row two deep up the whole length of the room. In the middle
of it stood an altar, covered with silver tinsel, and two priests in
tinsel and gold stood beside it. Upon it was the sacred ikon, and the
everlasting Mother and Child smiled down at the men laid in helplessness
and weakness at their feet.

A General welcomed the soldiers back; and when they were thanked in the
name of the Emperor for what they had done, the tears coursed down their
thin cheeks. It was too pitiful and touching to be borne. I remember
thinking how quietly and sweetly a sister of mercy went from one group
of soldiers to another, silently giving them handkerchiefs to dry their
tears. We are all mothers now, and our sons are so helpless, so much in
need of us.

[Page Heading: WOUNDED RUSSIANS]

Down the middle of the room were low tables for the men who lay down all
the time. They saluted the ikon, as all the soldiers did, and some
service began which I was unable to follow. I can't tell what the
soldiers said, or of what they were thinking. About their comrades they
said to Mme. Takmakoff that 25,000 of them had died in two days from
neglect. We shall never hear the worst perhaps.

There were three officers at a table. One of them was shot through the
throat, and was bandaged. I saw him put all his food on one side, unable
to swallow it. Then a high official came and sat down and drank his
health. The officer raised his glass gallantly, and put his lips to the
wine, but his throat was shot through, he made a face of agony, bowed to
the great man opposite, and put down his glass.

Some surgeons in white began to go about, taking names and particulars
of the men's condition. Everyone was kind to the returned soldiers, but
they had borne too much. Some day they will smile perhaps, but yesterday
they were silent men returned from the dead, and not yet certain that
their feet touched Russia again.

CHAPTER II

WAITING FOR WORK

We paid our heavy bills and left Petrograd on Monday, the 29th November.
Great fuss at the station, as our luggage and the guide had disappeared
together. A comfortable, slow journey, and Colonel Malcolm met us at
Moscow station and took us to the Hotel de Luxe--a shocking bad pub, but
the only one where we could get rooms. We went out to lunch, and I had a
plate of soup, tw