We put up at Alexandria at the Hotel Abbat, where our guide Mahmoud served as dragoman. On the following afternoon we went on a visit to Mouchtar Pasha, the ex-commander of the Turkish army during the Russo-Turkish war, who had removed to Egypt, an old general overcharged with years and decorations. Our ancient foe came up with his hand out, welcoming us heartily. We had no need of an interpreter, the Pasha speaking very good French. Our host proposed a little refreshment; and the next moment a turbaned servant came in with tea and stole out of the room silently, walking backwards.
Next day we went to see Mr. Abaza in Ramle, a little place situated at an hour-and-a-half’s journey from Alexandria, where he owned a house of his own. We passed the hippodrome, a broad racing-ground, and a large plain utilised for purposes of recreation by cricketers and lawn-tennis players, arranged by the English colony of Alexandria. We now rolled through an arid and deserted country, swarming with all sorts of vermin, serpents, scorpions, bats, etc. As we approached Ramle the scene changed as if by magic, and we found ourselves in an ocean of verdure. Mr. Abaza came to meet us at the station, and led us to his pretty villa buried among the trees. He regaled us with a Lucullus lunch, with champagne in profusion. The meal was served by Arab servants clad in white, very well groomed and trained. Directly after lunch Sergy had to return to Alexandria to be received in private audience by the Khedive, and I remained at Ramle until night, Mr. Abaza having proposed to see me back safely to Alexandria.
I found my husband enchanted with his visit to the Khedive, who had been charming to him. We sat together with Mr. Abaza on the terrace of our hotel till late, and had a comfortable chat over old times.
CHAPTER LVII
OUR WAY BACK TO RUSSIA
Next morning, supplied with tickets from Cook’s agency, we sailed for Italy on the “Amphitrite,” a splendid steamer belonging to the Austrian Lloyd Company, a veritable floating town filled with every possible requirement. The third bell announcing our departure rung and the boat moved out to sea. Soon Egyptian land disappeared from view. The Adriatic, which is particularly treacherous, promised a stormy passage. There were big black clouds on the horizon and the wind was very strong; we were in for rough weather! The whole night our ship tossed about like a cockle-shell, and foaming waves broke against the portholes of our cabin. I couldn’t go to sleep till daybreak. When the liner swung into the familiar waters of the Mediterranean, it was calm as a lake. After the intense heat of Egypt it seemed very cold, but one is never satisfied with the temperature one has!
After six days at sea we arrived at Brindisi, where the formalities of landing are very strict. A pilot-boat came to meet us with a sanitary officer, who had a long conference with our ship’s doctor. The pilot, at length, having ascertained himself that everything on board was right, hoisted the sanitary flag and piloted us to the Custom House, after which we took the train to Bari. Two American ladies, mother and daughter, occupied our compartment, and soon conversation began between us. The younger one told us that they came from the new world to the old one to have her trousseau made at Worth’s. What a shame to leave her bridegroom for six months for her frivolities. This flighty bride said that in return she bought her sweetheart a collection of neckties in every capital of Europe.
We arrived in the afternoon at Bari, which seems very dull and poor, and took an antediluvian coach drawn by a drowsy nag, sent by the Hôtel Continental to the station. This hotel, the best one in Bari, proved anything but comfortable. A dirty, sleepy waiter showed us into a bare, cold room, and soon after an old witch, who had only one tooth in her mouth and wore enormous copper ear-rings, came to make our beds. After a spare lunch composed of a burnt chicken and a dish of macaroni, we went to visit the famous church where the relics of St. Nicholas repose. The temple swarmed with pilgrims. Two nuns were on their knees before the mausoleum of the Saint, waiting their turn to creep into the narrow nook where the holy remains are laid. We saw them crawling flat on the floor, and the attendant on duty began to drag them out by their legs to give up the place to other pilgrims. Before we left the church the pater put under our noses a big book in which generous travellers, leaving various sums of money as a gift to the church, put their names down. He tried to draw our attention on the signature of a Russian merchant who had bestowed the sum of a hundred roubles, but we did not take the hint, and he had to be satisfied with less than that sum.
When we went back to the hotel, dinner was served in our apartment. We went to bed directly after our meal. The room was like ice. We had to cover ourselves with all the shawls and rugs that we had brought with us, and still we couldn’t get warm; in spite of the cold, voracious mosquitoes ill-treated us the whole night. We got up very early, swallowed hastily a cup of nasty coffee and left for Naples. At the stations our train stopped as long as the guards wanted it. “Partenza!” they cried out, but the train did not move. A lady, who travelled in our compartment, said that there were smugglers on the line, and told us some horrors which fairly made my hair stand on end. While she was going on with stories of smugglers, our train, which was going full speed, stopped suddenly the moment we entered a tunnel; we were for long minutes in complete darkness and heard voices calling noisily and the sound of smashed glass. Good Heavens! what could be the matter? My imagination being awfully excited, I nearly died of fright. It appeared that our guards had forgotten to provide us with candles for the tunnel, and were doing so now, in the dark, breaking to pieces the lantern. I heaved a sigh of relief when we came out of the tunnel into the light again.
On the platform of Naples we were attacked by a swarm of facchini, who took our luggage by force and installed us in a cab, which brought us to the Grand Hôtel on the Chiaia. The traffic in the noisy streets of Naples was bewildering; we had to proceed cautiously between carriages, heavy cars and laden donkeys. The horses in Naples are not bridled, and therefore very difficult to manage when they happen to be of an independent character. The horse who drew us was of amorous temperament and watched for an opportunity to flirt and bite his rivals all the way, and many a time I was on the point of jumping out of the carriage.