May 31st.—Nine o’clock in the morning. In the distance the coasts of the Caucasus rise with snow-clad mountains. We soon reach Baku, the town of petroleum. A noisy crowd of Persians, Tartars and Armenians throng on the quay; the hubbub of voices was almost deafening. My husband profited by the stoppage of our ship to visit the town. He was shown the famous Black Town, where the naphtha is exported. According to the most recent theory, the substance of naphtha is the produce of the petrification of animals and marine plants. It is not easy to make a fountain of naphtha spout out, sometimes it is only after two years of boring, the layer of ground penetrated being sometimes twenty metres thick.
June 1st.—The weather has taken a turn for the worse. The sky is overclouded, the wind is rising and the ship rolls horribly. We have shut ourselves in our cabins.
June 2nd.—The sun was not yet up when the coasts of Asia appeared on the horizon in long white lines. Towards seven o’clock in the morning we entered Krasnovodsk. Flags flutter on the quay, and a triumphal arch is erected with our initials and “Welcome” written in large letters. All the administrative officials of the town have come to present themselves to my husband, who is greeted with the greatest enthusiasm. We come on land and walk between two lines of lookers-on. Prince Toumanoff, the chief of the Transcaspian provinces, came up to me with a large bouquet, whilst a military band was playing a march.
A special train was waiting on the quay. All the cars are painted white. I have my private car provided with every possible comfort and luxury. At one end is the sitting-room containing sofas, armchairs, a large writing-table, shelves, etc. The furniture is covered with red silk brocade to match the window curtains. At the other end a suite consisting of a bedroom with a bed with splendid springs, a bath and dining-room.
Whilst Sergy was visiting the town, my car was taken to the railway station, a large white building of oriental design and ornamentation. Elegantly dressed ladies and officers in full uniform were waiting my husband on the platform. I leant far back, to conceal myself from view, in nervous horror of being stared at. To amuse me a musical band executed the best pieces of their repertoire, in turns with another band composed of wandering minstrels. An old white-bearded man began to sing in a broken voice a bizarre melody to the accompaniment of a zourna, a national instrument. My heart went out to the poor old troubadour with infinite pity.
As soon as my husband arrived, the train steamed away amidst loud cheers.
From Krasnovodsk to Tashkend, we have to make 1,800 kilometres by rail. Prince Toumanoff and a group of engineers accompany us as far as Samarkand. We have invited the whole company to lunch with us.
It was awfully stifling in my car and I was too hot to talk, I was too exhausted to eat, but devoured with thirst. As soon as lunch was over, I hastened to get into my dressing-gown and stretched myself on the sofa.
Our road lay for a long time along the Caspian. The moist, warm air that blew through the carriage windows brought a salt taste from the sea. The stretch of country through which we are now passing is flat and uninteresting. Along the roadway the dust rose in clouds which poured in through the curtains; to crown all we are devoured by flies. I am furious with the nasty insects, with the heat, with the dust, with everything!