They were all at table—the Prince put me next to him, introduced the Russian general and all his suite, and we had rather a pleasant hour. We had excellent tea in glasses (the first time I ever saw it), delicious little rolls, eggs, and cold meat. The Prince is a tall, broad-shouldered, good-natured German, speaking French quite well.
We had the same ceremony at starting, first the "Wacht-am-Rhein" for the Germans, then the "Marseillaise" for us. The journey was not particularly interesting from the frontier here, but Varsovie itself most curious. We found the same bustle and preparation at the station here—the Governor of Varsovie, and Préfet de Police en tenue, and our Consul, M. Bérard.
We drove at once to the hotel, looked at our rooms, which are comfortable, and started again for a little drive through the town before dinner. Anything so unlike the cities one has been accustomed to see can't be imagined, long, straggling streets, enormous spaces, many houses tumbling down, and abominable pavement, deep holes, and paving stones as big as ordinary rocks—why the carriage ever got along was a mystery to us all. The Russian coachman, a perfect type with his long caftan and flat cap. Why the horses remain attached to the carriage is a problem, as they apparently have no harness of any description. I used to think we didn't use much in America. Will you ever forget Coligny's face at Oyster Bay when we started trotting down hill without any breeching?
There were quantities of dirty Polish Jews in every direction, all with their long caftans, greasy, black curls, and ear-rings. I had time to rest a little before dinner. We all dined together, also Bérard the Consul, all the men in their dress clothes, and I in my grey moiré with white lace, and a big, black velvet bow, one string of pearls which I had on under my corsage. Pontécoulant, who is the next man to W., took me in, and I had General Pittié on the other side. The dinner was handsome and well served. Pontécoulant had attended to that while we were driving about.
After dinner the men all went off to the theatre in the Governor's box to see a famous ballet. I was rather tired, and as we start again to-morrow, and have two nights in the train, I sha'n't mind going to bed early. I was interrupted, as we have had a visit, pleasant enough, from Mavrocordato (Greek), who is also on his way to Moscow to represent his country, and now I am going to bed. We leave to-morrow at 4, and I will try and write a little en route. They say I can probably, as the Russian roads (railroads) are smooth, and they go very slowly.
I will go on a little and send this letter also from here. We had an expedition this morning to one of the châteaux belonging to some member of the Sobieski family, or rather belonging to a Potocki quelconque, where there are many souvenirs of Sobieski. I never was on such a villainous pavement (they tell me Moscow is worse), and the road long and straight through flat country, not very interesting. The château was full of pictures and bibelots of all kinds, and every possible souvenir of Sobieski, flags, swords, snuff-boxes, etc., and quite worth seeing. I enjoyed the outing, as everything was absolutely unique, carriages, costumes, carts, people, language, houses, a poor tumble-down little hovel next to a great palace with gates and courts and gardens.
We lunched again with all the Embassy, and then I went to see what was happening to the maids. I had left them in such a dejected condition on the landing when I went out. They couldn't get hold of any servant (couldn't make them understand when they did), couldn't get my boots or travelling skirt, or hot water, or anything, in fact. The hotel is full of people, all starting this afternoon, and there is a fine confusion, but they really must learn to get along without all modern conveniences.
I will try and write a little, Dear, while we are stopping at Smolensk for tea. It is rather difficult when we are moving (though we go slowly) as you will see by the writing, as the train shakes a great deal. As soon as it stops we all tumble out, are received by railway officials in uniform, and conveyed to a private room decorated with greens and flags, where most elaborate repasts are provided. We got off from Varsovie yesterday most comfortably about 4 o'clock. Various officials, our Consul Bérard, were at the station to see us off, and an engineer of the company, who goes with us to Moscow to interpret and look after us generally. The train is most luxurious—for W. and me one long saloon carriage lined with grey satin, and with every variety of easy chair, sofa, table, writing-table, lamp, etc. Flowers on one of the tables and maps of the route on another. Communicating with it and directly behind are two bedrooms for us—mine is capitonné in blue satin, a very good-sized bed, glass, chairs, table, etc., also a dressing-room with every modern convenience. W.'s is grey satin, equally comfortable, with dressing-room, bath, etc.—behind these again a coupé for the maids—then a long carriage for the rest of the Mission with chairs, tables, etc, and small coupés. The engineer showed us all the arrangements, hoped we were satisfied, and also told us that two employés would be stationed at each end of our carriage always for whatever we might want.
We got off fairly punctually. I wonder if I shall ever see Varsovie again. We stopped somewhere about 5.30, and found a charming little tea waiting for us in a private room, served of course in glasses with pieces of lemon, and excellent rolls and cakes. There we fraternized with the Dutch Mission, who are also on the train. M. Schimmelpenninck, a tall, stylish-looking man, with his son and gendre. The young men had recognized W., having seen him at the Congrès de Berlin; so they recalled themselves, and we made friends. We agreed to take all our meals together, and as apparently we shall have about 6 in the day we shall probably see a good deal of each other.
We had rather a pleasant evening, dined (very well) at Brest, always the same ceremonial; and after dinner some of the gentlemen came and paid us visits. We talked of course about "La Grande Armée" and Napoleon's campaigns, as we are passing over the same ground that they followed. The two moujiks at the doors are most attentive and intelligent; as soon as they hear any noise in our carriage, opening or shutting a window, or anything falling (some of the heavy books slipped off a table just now), they seem to divine it, and appear instantly and ask, I suppose, what we want. We have no means of communication, but they evidently understand.
I was very comfortable last night in my little blue room, and had been sleeping quietly, when I seemed to divine that someone had come in. I didn't stir, and half opened my eyes, and for a moment was rather startled. The lamp, shaded, was burning, and in came one of the moujiks quite quietly. He moved very softly about the room, rather an appalling figure, with his high boots, fur cap, and curious half-savage face (gentle too), touched door and windows, fussed over the lamp, drew the curtain of the dressing-room a little closer to keep out any draught (didn't come up to the bed), and went out again just as quietly. It was a curious experience, flying through the darkness of the night, and wakening to see that strange figure prowling about.
About 7, I think, in the morning he reappeared, this time standing at the door, and making many perfectly unintelligible remarks. It was so evident I didn't understand that he smiled, made a despairing gesture with his hand, and disappeared. As I was quite sure he would come back I got up and fastened the door. In a few moments I heard a colloquy outside, and then the voice of the engineer asking when I would like my maid and my tea—also saying they would stop in about an hour for early breakfast, and that mine and the Ambassador's would be brought to our carriage.
I asked to have the maid at once—so Adelaïde appeared with hot water and a cup of tea, and I dressed as comfortably as if I was in my dressing-room at the Rue Dumont d'Urville. As soon as I was ready I went into the big carriage, which looked very nice and clean, had been swept and dusted, window-panes washed (Adelaïde saw the men doing it); a very nice little breakfast tray was brought, tea, every variety of good little rolls, and some fish. We contented ourselves with the rolls, didn't experiment upon the fish. The table was close to the window—all the gentlemen came up and talked to us, and as usual there were quantities of people about.
We have passed through most desolate country, miles of plains, with scarcely any traces of human habitation. The cottages