"Yes," answered I, "thank God, I am a Russian!"
A few minutes later I heard the same voice say: "Madame, are you a Greek Orthodox?"
I naturally repeated again: "Yes, thank God, I am a Greek Orthodox!"
But my driver seemed to be inquisitive.
"And do you often see the Tsar?" asked the boy.
"No, unfortunately very seldom," answered I.
But I was puzzled to know the cause of all these questions, I even forgot for a few minutes to dream about my cup of hot tea, and took up the dialogue myself.
"But tell me, why do you want to know all these things?"
"Well, I thought that perhaps I could beg you to intercede on our behalf, when you see His Majesty. The fact is, I have been brought up at Mr. Serge Ratchinsky's school as a teetotaller. May God bless him for the good he has done to us children."
The lad went on to explain that on growing up he had to help his parents, who owing to a bad harvest suffered great privations. He left his village and came to Petrograd to work and earn some money. Of course he had to buy a nice horse, a good cab and an overcoat—the authorities are very particular now as to the drivers' appearance in towns. He had to face all these expenses, and to work very hard, as may be imagined. In fact he was at it all day.