skirt of a tartan pattern with a deal of red in it, and like a
small princess attended by the women of her own household: the head
gourvernante, our dear, corpulent Francesca (who had been for thirty
years in the service of the B. family), the former nurse, now outdoor
attendant, a handsome peasant face wearing a compassionate expression,
and the good, ugly Mlle. Durand, the governess, with her black eyebrows
meeting over a short thick nose and a complexion like pale brown paper.
Of all the eyes turned towards the carriage, her good-natured eyes only
were dropping tears, and it was her sobbing voice alone that broke the
silence with an appeal to me: "N'oublie pas ton francais, mon cheri." In
three months, simply by playing with us, she had taught me not only
to speak French but to read it as well. She was indeed an excellent
playmate. In the distance, half way down to the great gates, a light,
open trap, harnessed with three horses in Russian fashion, stood drawn
up on one side with the police-captain of the district sitting in it,
the vizor of his flat cap with a red band pulled down over his eyes.

It seems strange that he should have been there to watch our going so
carefully. Without wishing to treat with levity the just timidities of
Imperialists all the world over, I may allow myself the reflection that
a woman, practically condemned by the doctors, and a small boy not quite
six years old could not be regarded as seriously dangerous even for
the largest of conceivable empires saddled with the most sacred of
responsibilities. And this good man, I believe, did not think so either.

I learned afterwards why he was present on that day. I don't remember
any outward signs, but it seems that, about a month before, my mother
became so unwell that there was a doubt whether she could be made fit to
travel in the time. In this uncertainty the Governor-General in Kiev was
petitioned to grant her a fortnight's extension of stay in her brother's