ith myself.

My introduction to Princess Sophy Golitzin, in Moscow, was of such a
sort that we at once received an invitation from her to meet her
choicest friends, at her house the next day. When we arrived, we found
some thirty or forty charming Russians in a long, handsomely furnished
salon, all speaking their own language. But upon our approach, every one
began speaking English, and so continued during our stay. Twice,
however, little groups fell into French and German at the advent of one
or two persons who spoke no English.

Russians do not show off at their best in foreign environments. I have
met them in Germany, France, England, Italy, and America, and while
their culture is always complete, their distinguishing trait is their
hospitality, generous and free beyond any I have ever known, which, of
course, is best exploited in their own country and among their own
people.

At the Princess Golitzin's, I was told that the Countess Tolstoy and her
daughter had been there earlier in the afternoon, but, owing to the
distance at which they lived, they had been obliged to leave early.
They, however, left their compliments for all of us, and asked the
princess to say that they had remained as long as they had dared, hoping
for the pleasure of meeting us.

Being only a modest American, I confess that I opened my eyes with
wonder that a personage of such renown as the Countess Tolstoy, the wife
of the greatest living man of letters, should take the trouble to leave
so kind a message for me.

When Bee and Mrs. Jimmie heard it, they treated me with almost the same
respect as when they discovered that I knew the head waiter at
Baden-Baden. But not quite.

As, however, our one ambition in coming to Russia had been to see
Tolstoy himself, we at once began to ask questions of the princess as to
how we might best accomplish our object, but to our disappointment her
answers were far from encouraging. He was, I was told by everybody, ill,
cross as a bear, and in the throes of composition. Could there be a
worse possible combination for my purpose?

So much was said discouraging our project that Jimmie was for giving it
up, but I think one man never received three such simultaneously
contemptuous glances as we three levelled at Jimmie for his craven
suggestion. So it happened that one Sunday morning we took a carriage,
and, having invited the consul, who spoke Russian, we drove to Tolstoy's
town house, some little distance