My thoughts flew back constantly to St. Petersburg. Being a girl who had already tasted city life, it did not please me in the least to bury myself in the country, and I longed to mix with the gay world again. One day, an invitation came from my aunt Leon Galitzine, asking me to spend two or three months with them. That was indeed a piece of good fortune! What could be more exciting, more delicious! Visions of balls floated before my eyes and I simply danced with joy, meaning to amuse myself tremendously.

Mamma brought me to St. Petersburg and left me in charge of my aunt, who did all she could to make my stay pleasant. The vanities of the world took complete hold of me; I had a very gay season, being out nearly every night and dancing to my heart’s content with my band of last year’s admirers. Stenger continued to care for me as he did at first, and was more than ever my slave. Everywhere I went he would find out and go too, for he had a true heart, poor boy. I had such a thirst for pleasure that my evenings at home appeared awfully long; I found it dreadfully dreary and yawned in the most distressing fashion, sitting half-dozing in an armchair beside the fire, and constantly asking what time it was, having a most natural desire to go to bed.

I met many nice fellows of the corps des pages in the house of a great friend of mine, the countess Aline Hendrikoff, all chums of her brother’s. The boys were charming fellows and I flirted shamelessly with them. My more sedate admirers began to tease me about the way I caught mere babes into my net, they said that a chap of twenty was too old already to attract my attention. We really did have great fun at the Hendrikoffs and gave way to wild mirth, such a noise, such laughter! We played hide-and-seek and climbed on the top of cupboards, and when we girls were found, before tumbling down into the arms of the pages, we commanded them to turn their heads the other way and to shut their eyes tight, very tight. One evening we got up some tableaux-vivants in which I exhibited myself as Cleopatra the Egyptian queen, stretched at full length on a tiger skin and holding in my hand the fatal asp, artfully composed of green paper. I had to be just stung by it, but instead of simulating the agonies of death, I burst out laughing, to the scandal of the spectators. In the next tableau we represented a flock of woolly lambs, spread on all fours on the carpet, and wrapped up in our pelisses turned inside out.

By the end of April mamma came to take me home. I reluctantly left St. Petersburg and took a long farewell of my freedom.