I had again my heart’s desire. I was invited by my aunt, Swetchine, mamma’s sister, to spend the winter with her in St. Petersburg; I was in the seventh heaven of delight, nothing could please me better.

How pleasant it was to be in St. Petersburg again; I felt so self-dependent in it! It was my first taste of liberty; I was my own mistress at last, and I should have plenty of opportunity to spread my wings and see the world, of which I knew nothing, but expected everything. I had a chamber of my own and felt that I had never lived till now, it was simply a foretaste of Paradise.

I got on admirably with my cousin, Kate Swetchine, the most good-natured girl in the world; her sister, Sophy was much too serious for me. I had all my days free to do what I desired. Music became an actual passion to me; I practised the piano a good deal; Liszt being one of my favourite composers, I played his rhapsodies stormingly. I began also to study singing, and in spare moments wrote stupid verses, which all my admirers thought beautiful. That winter I raved about officers belonging to the horse-guard regiment, and dedicated to them an atrocious poem that I sang on the motive of L’Amour, the fashionable chansonette of the season.

A young engineer occupied an apartment in the house where we lived; our rooms communicated. My neighbour possessed a loud baritone voice and sang very improper songs for a young lady to hear. Though unacquainted, we chorused sometimes to each other, and when I sang my horse-guard chansonette, from my neighbour’s room came the most sonorous second.

A gentleman of quite different style, who was acutely sensitive to noise, lived side by side with our drawing-room; a stern, frozen-up human being, grey and wrinkled. When we were not behaving too quietly, he sent the maid to request us to moderate our gambols, but we were not in the habit of being silenced.

My singing mistress procured us tickets for the distribution of prizes in the St. Petersburg conservatory, where I attracted the attention of one of the professors, Mme. Everardi, who gave me an appreciative glance and said, pointing me out, “Look at this young lady, she is destined for the stage.”

I was enjoying the many pleasures St. Petersburg could offer, and was bombarded with invitations of every kind; people were asking me to dinners, dances and all sorts of delicious things. We came home at most eccentric hours, turning night into day. I liked the admiration I excited. As soon as I entered a ball-room, I became surrounded by a circle of partners, quarrelling with each other for the privilege of a dance with me. My ball-programme was soon scrawled all over; I mixed up my dancers and began to wonder how I could possibly manage six youths at once. They drew lots for the right of dancing with me, and as neither seemed inclined to give way, they would end by half tearing me to pieces between them. I danced nearly every dance with two partners, and how I danced, with all my soul in it, for I never did things by halves. Hot but indefatigable, I flew round the room, dancing as though I would never tire. My partners wanted to flirt with me in the intervals but I never gave them the time, keeping them whirling me round till they had not much breath left for talking. Towards the end of the evening my hair became untidy and my train torn to pieces, every scrap of trimming on it destroyed.

My admirers were of all ages, from mere boys to wrinkled greybeards. I received their attentions as a matter of course, and though I flirted with many men, I never really lost my heart to any of them.

A young officer appeared at last on my horizon, with whom I almost convinced myself that I was in love. He carried my photograph in a locket on his watch-chain, and brought me flowers and bonbons, and spoilt my appetite, making me eat lots of sweets before dinner. One day I scratched my finger with a pin; it was nothing but a simple scratch, but a drop of blood appeared and my chivalrous admirer tore his handkerchief instantly to pieces and bound up my wound. He preserved that rag, stained with my precious blood, as a sweet remembrance. Very touching indeed!

A general with lumbago, full of years and honours, who was looking about him for a wife, began to lay siege on me. I saw a great deal more of him than I wished to, and as I didn’t like to have that tiresome old man bothering after me, I often pretended to have a bad headache and went to my room. His company was too odious for words, he was dull as ditch water. This general got me alone one day, and proposed to me, saying that his hand, his heart and his purse were freely at my command. The idea of that old scarecrow indulging in matrimonial schemes! A husband of that sort would never do for me, and I gave him a brilliant rebuke. Distressed by my unreachableness, he disappeared from our horizon. I was so happy to be rid of him!

I took a walk between two and three every afternoon up the “Nevski Prospect,” a place of rendezvous with a number of my admirers. I came back one day from my walk with a terrible headache and throwing myself on my bed, I burst into a loud fit of hysterical laughter and weeping which terrified my cousins who stood beside me wringing their hands, and wanted to send the maid after the doctor, but my aunt, who came home at that moment, did something more practical: she stamped her foot and ordered me to stop instantly all that nonsense, otherwise she would countermand the dancing-party that was to take place that evening. My hysterical fit passed as if by magic; I recovered my self-control, and bounding to my feet in the liveliest manner, I began to prepare the dessert for our soirée.

The young men about me were very incendiary, a tiny spark thrown among them set them on fire. Stenger, one of my most ardent partners, a youth of about nineteen years of age, took a desperate fancy to me; when we danced together he held me in his arms so tightly I could hardly breathe, and as we swung round he murmured soft things into my willing ears. That boy managed to make his way into our house and found means to see me almost daily.

One beautiful frosty night we went out sledging to the Islands in the outskirts of St. Petersburg; we drove in troikas, wide sleighs drawn by three horses. It was very cold; I was quite frozen and rubbed my fingers, and Stenger, who sat opposite to me, slipped his hand into my muff, and under pretence of warming my hands, pressed them, almost crushing them in his grasp, but my aunt soon put a stop to this massage, saying that my muff would do the business much better. Stenger’s adoration was too bothering, and as I did not happen to be consumed with passion myself, I grew weary of it and lavished my attention upon Ofrossimoff, a very good-looking boy, a scholar of the Lyceum. Naturally, Stenger was full of bitter envy towards his successor, and strongly disapproved of him. I tried to pacify his jealousy, but it was not to be subdued and I made his eyes look angry very often. Stenger grew altogether impossible, and his fits of jealousy became disagreeably frequent of late. I scarcely had a moment alone with Ofrossimoff, Stenger resolutely determined not to let us sit together, and was always in our way and came and spoilt our talk. Wherever we went he turned up unexpectedly and looked upon us with suspicious eyes. I have never felt so watched, and mentally sent him to the antipodes, for I was always the same, with no idea of constancy; I simply tossed aside my admirers as an old glove, as soon as anybody more attractive turned up. For me that tiresome Stenger was already a broken toy; I did not wish to spend my time looking at him when I could spend it looking at Ofrossimoff.

Wanting to be rid of him at last, I made him understand, very clearly, that he was a bore, telling him, naughtily, there was no room for him here, and making him feel that three is an awkward number and that he was one too many; then Stenger fell upon me with reproaches, saying that I take all and give nothing, winning all hearts just because I myself had none, and that I was a monster in a woman’s shape to torture him so, a sort of vampire who sucked every drop of happiness out of him. He concluded by telling me that he had given away his heart to one who was utterly unworthy of it. I did not suspect that I was treading on such dangerous ground, but my aunt felt that we were going to have trouble with this too ardent youth; she was sure there was going to be a row. Had I pushed my game too far after all? I had never taken Stenger very seriously and began to feel uncomfortable.

One day when I was shamelessly flirting with Ofrossimoff, absorbed in each other we had forgotten the presence of Stenger, who came to us in a storming rage, his face a thunder cloud, and told Ofrossimoff he wouldn’t play second fiddle, nor submit any longer to a cat-and-mouse game, and also would not permit any other man to usurp his place, especially to such a baby not yet out of the school-room. (Ofrossimoff at that time was a moustachless youth and Stenger had already a slight shadow on his upper lip, of which he was immensely proud.) My aunt was right: there was a frantic personal affair between these two boys, and Ofrossimoff flaming angrily at Stenger’s insult, challenged him to a duel. That was a nice piece of work indeed! The two rivals were going to fight and all through me; they had already invited seconds. Happily the duel did not come off, Stenger was forced to apologise, but nevertheless I was now feeling myself to be a heroine, as for Ofrossimoff, he seemed to me to be as bold as a young lion, and went up twenty-five per cent in my estimation. I had a good scolding, nevertheless, from my aunt, who said I was a fearful little flirt, playing merry games with the affections of men. She accused me also of having given Stenger every encouragement, and said that I must do everything now to cure him of his infatuation and stop all this nonsense. Following her advice, I tried to be as frigid as a whole iceberg to poor Stenger, and told him he was a fool to break his heart for me, and that he must try and find another object for his affections. I hope now I had been unfriendly enough and had brought him to his senses; but it came to nothing, and his parents decided that the best thing was to get him out of my way and send him away from St. Petersburg; so they accompanied their “Benjamine” to the train, and after having installed him in the railway carriage, they returned home peacefully, far from the thought that in spite of his appearance of filial obedience, Stenger had conceived, beforehand, the audacious project of running away, and great was the amazement of the old couple, when their son reappeared that same day, declaring that decidedly he would not be separated from me.

Time went on with the most extraordinary rapidity; winter was over and my happy time at St. Petersburg came to an end all but too soon. I adored the place and a great many people in it, and having seen a little of the world and tasted of its pleasures and temptations, I was awfully sorry to leave this delightful life behind me, and to lose my independence. I wrote home entreating permission to prolong my stay; I would have given ten years of my life for a month more of St. Petersburg, but the answer had just come, and mamma said, “No.” I was delivered soon after to the care of my aunt Leon Galitzine, who volunteered to see me safe to Moscow; mamma would come and fetch me from there in a few days.

Before my departure I had a long conversation with Ofrossimoff; that silly boy actually proposed to me. In an amazingly sudden way he blurted out, with a voice which was eloquent of many things, how madly he loved me, and asked me if I’d marry him. I tried to turn all he said into a joke, and told him to put that ridiculous idea out of his head, for I couldn’t quite take him seriously, like a regular grown-up man. He was so disastrously young in fact, just turned nineteen. “Ah, that will remedy itself soon enough!” exclaimed my suitor, adding that he would wait for ten years if he were sure of getting me at last; and when I told him that love did not grow with waiting, he said that, as far as he was concerned, he promised me the devotion of a lifetime and a lot of other nonsense. Upon this we decided that we should wait for three or four years, and concluded a compact of eternal friendship. We parted with a lingering hand-shake and tender glances. There was a tear in the corner of my eye, for I did care for him in a way. But “out of sight, out of mind!” His face haunted me for some days, and in a week’s time I had forgotten the poor boy’s existence.

Mr. Swinine, a friend of my aunt Galitzine’s, greeted us cordially in Moscow, and offered us the hospitality of his splendid home, where everything spoke of wealth. The house was a veritable museum; all the rooms, of great height and good proportion, were furnished with every luxury, and filled with pictures of old masters and bronzes and antiquities of immense value. There was a painting of the utmost impropriety but it was covered with a veil during our stay.

Mr. Swinine was a very charming and courteous old gentleman, a real Grand Seigneur of the past generation, and a wonderful man for his age, light of step and young of spirit; there was nothing decrepit or infirm about him. The old beau, in spite of his eighty years, was a delightful host, and treated me with an old-world gallantry. His heart was not altogether withered, and in extraordinary circumstances he could even be moved. He felt a new sense of renewed youth in my presence, which heated his old blood; he told me that I seemed to have a talisman about me, and that he had never met a woman who could quicken his pulse like me. His face had the expression of a satyr and his little eyes twinkled merrily when he related to me a number of his feats and love-affairs of “auld lang syne.” He preserved, among other remote remembrances of by-gone days, a beautiful Indian shawl with which I was not a little surprised to see my bed covered; in his opinion I only was worthy of such an honour.

At the end of the week mamma rejoined us and carried me off.