I have been told in the Club that the Government is planning to get rid somehow of the whole family.  The foxy old Polenov explained to us after bridge that he would not be surprised if Kerensky would say to the Lenine crowd that the Emperor should be taken somewhere in the country on account of the German advance, and to Buchanan ... on account of the growing strength of Lenine.  “Many more people are interested in this affair,” he said, “than even Kerensky knows.  If he knew, he would have a larger field for bargaining.”

Devil knows who is who now!  If police officers enlist in the communists,—­what is next?  Trotzky’s going to a high mass?

8.

Dined with Buchanans and the Lazarevs.  Ros. was wounded.  We all enjoyed this little story:—­

A German girl was asked: 

“Koennen sie Ibsen?” To which she replied: 

“Nein!  Wie macht man das?”

9.

I suspected, and feared, that it could or might have happened,—­and so it was!

Yesterday Mikhalovsky asked me to come to his office.  He looked queer and worried, and when I stepped in, he closed the door and started to reproach me with every sign of excitement, so proper to him; spitting all over my face.

“I never expected that from you!  I never expected!  How is it?  What is it!?...” and so on.

I stopped him and asked him to be more explicit, as I could not grasp all of the meaning of his eloquence.  After he lit a cigarette (how many times this little thing has been a salvation!) Mikhalovsky became more comprehensible and told me that Misha phoned at one o’clock in the night and asked him to come immediately to the Intelligence in his private office.  Mikhalovsky, who is now taking great care of himself, drinks some waters, takes green pills and goes to bed at nine, became enraged and refused, but Misha said he was an ass, and simply had to dress and go to the headquarters.  So the old thing had to dress and appear.  Misha showed him a short note from the French Agent which read something like this:—­“Baroness B. evidently communicating with Copenhagen through Sharp and Starleit M. General Z. to be approached, also Quart.—­General R. In one instance a package carried to Sestroretsk by a lady in a blue tailor suit with white fox fur.  Trail lady, arrest Baroness B. Watch Finland Depot, radio to Generals Z. and R.”  No signature.

My astonishment was very great, and I said that “though I have known Baroness B. quite well since I met her in Paris and Monte Carlo and....”

(five lines scratched out from manuscript)....  “Quit your damn jokes for a while,” he exclaimed.  “Do you realize, what you are talking about?  The lady with the fox—­is Maroossia!”

“Maroossia?  Spying?” I said, becoming angry in my turn.  “You will have to account for it, Boris Platonovich, as even an old friend and relative must think over those accusations.”