When Sergy returned to Moscow he told me that Baron Korff was not leaving his post at present, but that a temporary function, that of adjunct to the Governor-General of the far east of Siberia, had been proposed to my husband.
It is too serious a resolution to be taken in a hurry, and Sergy went once more to St. Petersburg and took me with him. In the first place we called on Baroness Korff. A hundred questions were burning on my lips, but our visit was rather disappointing. The Baroness described Khabarovsk to us under awfully gloomy aspects, and left us under no illusion about our new abode, which seems as far as the moon to me, describing it as a place where no luxuries of civilisation can be procured, and said that we must be prepared to encounter terrible hardships and great privations. Really, it was not too enthusiastic a description, and did not sound promising at all. I had heard very much the same thing before, but not so emphatically stated. Our fine resolutions flew to the winds, and Sergy decided to refuse his appointment as adjunct to Baron Korff. I could sing victory!
A cloud came soon over our bright sky. An event took place which completely modified our lives. One morning there come to us a startling and most appalling piece of news, informing us that Baron Korff had departed this life. My husband was summoned by telegram to return instantly to St. Petersburg, where he was told that he was named General-Governor of the Amour province.
My thoughts were in a state of chaos. I was glad to know at least what to expect. That painful uncertainty tortured me; for days I had been almost without sleep, feeling the sword of Damocles suspended over me.
Sergy wanted me at first to remain in St. Petersburg with my mother, promising to come and fetch me in the middle of the winter; but the thought that I should be separated from him for so long a time, and that seas should roll between us, was a veritable torture to me. Where he goes, I am bound to go too. I can’t let him go alone to that impossible land, I can’t and I won’t! My only wish is for Sergy’s happiness. I am ready to sacrifice anything for him and to brave a lot of discomforts. I am determined to follow my husband. At least we won’t have half the globe between us.
It is very hard, however, to part with our home and to remove to another quarter of the globe. But what is to be, will be. I must submit to the inevitable and look to the future with a firm face.
My husband received the order to start for Siberia within a month. We were making ready to depart and began preparations for our long journey to Khabarovsk, which is a serious undertaking. I had a great deal to think about. Our apartments were turned upside down; the whole house was topsy-turvy. Packing cases encumbered the floor and professional packers came to pack our trunks. The sight of the empty, denuded rooms depressed me. Our home was broken up! Our heavy luggage had been consigned to the “Nijni-Novgorod,” a merchant vessel belonging to the Volunteer Fleet.
Colonel Serebriakoff, an officer attached to my husband’s personal service, and his wife accompanied us on our journey to Khabarovsk, so did Mr. Shaniawski and Mr. Koulomsine, Sergy’s private secretaries. Dr. Pokrovski, a surgeon in the Russian army, a dispenser of drugs, was necessary also on our hazardous voyage, and Mme. Beurgier, a former governess of Princess Mimi Troubetzkoy, one of my childhood’s greatest friends, made up the party in the capacity of companion. I had sore need of a friend, and it is a great comfort to have dear Mme. Beurgier with me.
The nearer the time approached for our setting out, the more nervous I grew. The hour of our departure was in the papers, and arriving at the railway station we saw a crowd of friends to see us off, with plenty of hand-shakes, kisses and embraces. I was presented with five enormous bouquets, which were distributed in no time by people asking for flowers as souvenirs.
The signal was given for departure and hands and handkerchiefs waved frantically as the train glided out. I felt a lump in my throat on leaving dear old Moscow for good.