made short journeys to Peterhof or
such of the country palaces as were within driving distance of the
Hermitage. Also, certain mornings of each week were spent at the
riding-school; and others in the practice of fencing and shooting, or
the perusal of the drill manual. The afternoons and evenings were free,
in so far as a member of smart society can ever be free, considering the
necessity of being seen in every private or public place of amusement
considered "the thing" at the moment. And, though Ivan was far too much
of a novice to perceive any iron underneath the flowers on the chains he
had voluntarily donned, he soon discovered that regular study of any
kind was impossible for him in that atmosphere.

Ivan's regiment had always been a popular one in the capital; and, at
the end of the first six weeks of the new season, there was in it no
officer more sought-after than young Prince Gregoriev--"a nephew of the
Dravikines, you know." And this "young Prince"--who had himself never
been known to use his title, lost no time in picking up the manners and
the jargon of his small, new world. The thing that, in the beginning,
amazed him most, however, was the attitude towards him of his aunt; whom
he viewed with deep respect as the mother of Nathalie. He was slow to
understand Madame Dravikine's habit of surrounding herself with young
men; or the fact that she had had it assiduously whispered about that
her sister, the mother of Ivan, had been married when she was herself a
child scarce out of arms. But he wondered to find how very few of his
aunt's intimates remembered the age of her daughter, now for many years
convent-wrapped. His first moment of disillusion came on the day that
his aunt informed him, with considerable asperity, that his pretty
cousin was not a person to be mentioned in their circle--the reason
given--that "she was not yet out,"--sounding rather flimsy even to his
trusting ears. Still, he was given to understand that, in all
probability, Nathalie would be presented next winter, at one of the
court balls; on which day, Caroline admitted, wearily, to herself, her
special reign must end. But to her, seasoned through fifteen years of
unavoidable pretence, it was impossible to see the effect of her
customary fiction of existence, upon a mind hitherto so unused to
feminine subterfuge as that of Sophia's son.

Ivan, troubled at heart by these and several other details of society
life, made certain cautious obser