Everyone from the front describes the condition of the refugees as being most wretched.  They are camping in the snow by the thousand, and are still tramping from Poland.

And here we are in the Astoria Hotel, and there is one pane of glass between us and the weather; one pane of glass between us and the peasants of Poland; one pane of glass dividing us from poverty, and keeping us in the horrid atmosphere of this place, with its evil women and its squeaky band!  How I hate money!

I hope soon to join a train going to Dvinsk with food and supplies.

13 November.—­I have felt very brainless since I came here.  It is the result, I believe, of the Petrograd climate.  Nearly everyone feels it.  I had a little book in my head which I thought I could “dash off,” and that writing it would fill up these waiting days, but I can’t write a word.

The war news is not good, but the more territory that Germany takes, the more the British rub their hands and cry victory.  Their courage and optimism are wonderful.

To-day I spent with the Maxwells, and met a nurse, newly returned from Galicia, who had interesting tales to tell.  One about some Russian airmen touched me.  There had been a fierce fight overhead, when suddenly the German aeroplane began to wheel round and round like a leaf, when it was found that the machine was on fire.  One of the airmen had been shot and the other burnt to death.  The Russians refused to come and look at the remains even of the aeroplane, and said sadly, “All we men of the air are brothers.”  They gave the dead Germans a military funeral, and then sailed over the enemy’s lines to drop a note to say that all honour had been done to the brave dead.

[Page Heading:  BULGARIA]

I met Monsieur Jecquier, who was full of the political situation—­said Bulgaria would have joined us any day if we had promised to give her Bukowina; and blamed Bark, the Russian Finance Minister, for the terms of England’s loan (the loan is for thirty millions, and repayment is promised in a year, which is manifestly impossible, and the situation may be strained).  He said also that Motono, the Japanese Ambassador, is far the finest politician here; and he told me that while Russia ought to have been protecting the road to Constantinople she was quarrelling about what its new name was to be, and had decided to call it “Czareska.”  Now, I suppose, the Germans are already there.  Lloyds has been giving L100 at a premium of L5 that King Ferdinand won’t be on his throne next June.  The premium has gone to L10, which is good news.  If Ferdie is assassinated the world will be rid of an evil fellow who has played a mean and degraded part in this war.

We dined at the British Embassy last night.  I was taken in to dinner by Mr. George Lloyd, who was full of interesting news.  I had a nice chat with Lady Georgina.

20 November.—­It has been rather a “hang-on” ever since I wrote last, nothing settled and nothing to do.  No one ever seems at their best in Petrograd.  It is a cross place and a common place.  I never understood Tolstoi till I came here.  On all sides one sees the same insane love of money and love of food.