On Easter night a group of emigrants, who were returning home after midnight service, whilst crossing the cemetery, heard a voice screaming pitifully for help. The cry was repeated at short intervals. They stared at one another perplexedly. “What’s that?” they called out loudly. “It’s I!” said someone close at hand. It was a vagabond who had fallen into a newly-dug grave, together with a goat which he had just stolen. The emigrants knotted their sashes and slipped down the improvised cord, ordering the man to recite the Lord’s prayer to be convinced that it was not the evil spirit who was playing tricks with them. The vagabond had the unhappy thought to tie his goat first to the rope, and when the emigrants perceived a long beard and a pair of horns, they took to their heels and ran away, leaving the vagabond to his sad fate, persuaded that they had seen the devil. It was only at daybreak that the vagabond was hoisted up, in a very pitiful state.
At last we are going to have some good music. A travelling opera-troup, making a tour in Siberia, has just arrived at Khabarovsk to give a series of performances. The lady who substituted the orchestra and accompanied the artists on the piano, came to invite us to assist at their first performance, given in the Social Club. She told us how she despaired because she was unable to find black tights for Siebel, which had been torn on the way. No such thing was to be procured in Khabarovsk. We went to hear “Faust.” Sitting in a corner of our box I listened to Gounod’s divine music, and the thought of my pleasant life at Moscow came upon me with a sharp pang. I was on the point of bursting into tears. The performers were all second-rate artists. Faust had no great voice, Margaret looked rather clumsy, Mephistopheles was always in danger of degenerating into a buffoon, and Siebel, in darned tights, had a fine mezzo-soprano, but was too fat. (There is nearly always something too much or too little with everybody.)
The baritone of the opera-troup was at the same time a piano-tuner, and came to tune our “Erard.” It was only once a year that a professional tuner came from Blagovestchensk to repair pianos for 25 roubles per instrument. We have an amateur tuner at Khabarovsk, a colonel, who repairs the pianos for three roubles only, for the benefit of the Benevolent Society, but it is true that in his tuning there is more benevolence than skill.
I was not in very good health for the present time and had fits of depression and apathy at the thought of all the dear ones left in Russia. Sergy, who was terribly worried about me, decided that I needed daily exercise, and made me walk up and down our large hall, counting all the time I went round, to make one mile. But I didn’t become rosier for all that, because it is not exercise I wanted, but cheering up.
Rumours of strained relations between China and Japan spread about. A colonel of the general staff, sent by my husband to Tokio, gave us alarming news. Complications burst out between the two countries and soon war broke out. At the first combat of the outposts the Japs put to defeat the sons of the Celestial Empire. It was a headlong flight; twenty thousand Chinese soldiers went over to the enemy, abandoning their rifles. The Japs have sunk several Chinese cruisers, and have invaded Manchuria, where everything is put to fire and sword. There was an armistice of three weeks between China and Japan, during which Likhoundjan, the viceroy of China, was sent to Japan as Ambassador for negotiations of peace. He was wounded by a pistol-shot by a Jap. Fearing to be poisoned by the enemies of his country, he refused to be treated by Japanese doctors, and a German physician had to be sent to him from Berlin. For some time uncertain news arrived from the seat of war. At last we were informed that peace had been signed, when a second despatch was received, telling us that the Emperor of Japan had refused to ratify peace. Russia, together with France and Germany, insisted that the Japanese troops quit Manchuria, but the Japs insist on remaining and become more and more arrogant.
They say that Russia is going to occupy Manchuria, but they say such a lot of things! Sergy has received a cipher telegram from St. Petersburg, from the chief-commissary, asking him what is the quantity of provender necessary for the Siberian army, in case of war. Sergy is very much disturbed; the feeling of his responsibility weighs upon him. If our troops are sent out to Manchuria we shall remain quite helpless and unprotected here!
Japan having taken a menacing attitude towards Russia, my husband has received the order to prepare his troops to be ready for battle. The mobilisation must be completed in the month of April. At the thought that war was about to be proclaimed, my courage failed me. When I called to mind all the hardships I had to endure during the Russo-Turkish war, I could do away with myself.
A subsidy has been given to the officers in order they might supply themselves with saddle-horses. We have organised a committee of Sisters of Mercy. The three Governors subordinated to my husband are now at Khabarovsk. Every night they deliberate in our house on different preparations for war, together with a great number of generals and officers.
As soon as the misunderstanding with Japan began, a great number of functionaries sent out their families to Russia, by land; one couldn’t travel by sea for the moment, because Japanese men-of-war swarmed in the neighbourhood of Vladivostock. Sergy wanted to follow their example, and send me away, but I would not part with him now, and announced positively that I should not move from here.