Finally he opened a door that proved to be the private office, and a short haired girl secretary looked up and said Kalinin might return in half an hour. So he might, but with an experience of Russian official appointments, it seemed likely that he might not appear for a couple of hours. We left messages and retreated. On our way out someone, rousing himself from a corner, asked whether Kalinin was really in his room or not. Perhaps they thought we were privileged people, while they were kept waiting; I was rather glad that we could say he was not there. I came away with a melancholy impression of the place, but Kalinin, with his kindly face, must be the best sort of man to whom the people can tell their troubles.
We then drove to the statue of Dostoievsky, which is a beautiful bit of work in granite and which I wanted to photograph. In the same square there is another granite statue by the same artist, which is usually known as “The Thinker.” It is, if anything, better than the Dostoievsky.
From there I went to the Kremlin to see how the packing of my heads was progressing. I was surprised to find that the wooden cases had been delivered, owing, no doubt, to the combined efforts of Kameneff, Litvinoff, Andrev, and my kind Comrade Ynachidse, from whom all blessings flow. Moreover the heads were packed, so that there was nothing for me to do. I said good-bye very sadly to my nice moulder, whom I like so much. He is intelligent, well-mannered, and efficient. He bent down and kissed my hand with the simplicity and dignity of a prince. I gave him a woollen jersey, as he feels the cold, and with all his thousands of roubles that he earns he cannot buy such a thing. I gave one last look round the grim room to which I have become attached, and, with a lump in my throat, departed down the long stone passage, through which my footsteps re-echoed for the last time.
Then I crossed the courtyard and went to lunch at the Kremlin table d’hôte. This table d’hôte, which is the Communist restaurant reserved for all the Commissars and workers in the Kremlin, was unusually full to-day. I was lucky to get my place. Lunarcharsky sat opposite me. He has just returned to Moscow and I regretted there was no one present who could introduce us.
My neighbours observed me reading an English guide-book to the Kremlin, and attempted odd bits of conversation, but their English completely broke down. It is a great loss not being able to understand a word of Russian, as the general conversation at the long table was very animated and must have been interesting.
STATUE OF DOSTOIEVSKY.