October 27th.—The chief of the station, who took care of my sleep, and was afraid that I should be aroused by the shrieks of the manœuvring engines, gave order to the engine-drivers to moderate their transports when blowing their whistles.
The Medical Expedition has arrived this morning. Four lady-physicians, accompanied by twelve sisters of mercy, called upon me in the afternoon. They told me that a part of the expedition had been sent to Anzob, a pestilence-stricken village, and got there with great difficulty. There was no carriage-road and they had to make their way by precipitous paths in the mountains.
My husband proposed to the Medical Expedition to organise an ocular ambulatory inspection during their stay at Samarkand which was especially necessary in this country, where eye-diseases predominate, thanks to the rare and superficial connection of the natives with water. Their famous religious ablutions consist in the submersion of their hands in a vase filled with water of doubtful cleanliness, in which they wash away their sins; and after that they dash the water over their faces, and it happens sometimes that a whole crowd of natives have already performed their ablutions in that basin of water! One can easily imagine the hygiene of this ceremony.
October 28th.—This morning a group of Asiatic princes were presented to my husband in his railway-car; amongst them there was the pretender to the throne of Afghanistan Isaac-Khan—leading his little son by the hand. Before that Prince several pretenders to the throne of Afghanistan had chosen Samarkand for their residence, amongst them the famous Abdurakham, who, after having been raised to the throne, had shown his gratitude to the friendliness of the Russians, by playing false. Under pain of death, the entrance of Russian subjects into his territory was forbidden. Isaac-Khan is poor as a rat; he is living on a petty allowance of the Russian government, and though he has very little hope of succeeding to the throne of Afghanistan, he brings up his son as if the throne would belong to him one day or other. When the boy is asked who he is, he answers with an air of great importance: “I am Grand Sirdar” (General-in-Chief), but for the moment his army consists only of half a dozen ragged servants. I took an instinctive dislike to his father, and saw “Borgia” written all over him. In fact I believe the prince a man capable of anything, and though honied words come readily to his lips, his eyes flash an evil look, and hardly ever meet those of the person with whom he talks. There was something in his appearance which distinctly alarmed me. He would have made a perfect villain in a melodrama, with a beard growing almost reaching his eyes. It was not a face that one would care to meet when alone in the dark. Amongst the exotic princes I saw the suzerain of a small principality, who after having become a Russian subject, received as recompense the grade of major. He wears a “khalat” with Russian epaulettes, girded with a green sash, a sign that he is a descendant of the Prophet. When the presentations ended, my husband distributed medals and “khalats” to the native notables who came up to him preparing their most engaging smiles. After having received their gift, they retired backwards murmuring profuse thanks and touching their forehead, mouth and heart, contriving to stimulate on their faces sentiments of profound gratitude, though nourishing a profound hatred towards the Russians. From these treacherous people one can expect anything; it is an eternal armed-peace with them.
October 30th.—At ten o’clock precisely we arrived at Tashkend-station. My unexpected arrival was welcomed with joy and cordiality. I distributed my nods and smiles on each hand; the back of my neck was sore with bowing.
Energetic measures are being taken to check the progress of the epidemic. The plague is daily decreasing, and the Emperor charged the Prince of Oldenbourg to thank my husband for the energetic measures he had taken to battle with it.
The first leaves begin to fall and the park looks very dismal. The weather is horrible, the sky leaden-grey. I hear the monotonous wail of the wind and the rain beating against the window-panes.
This time my stay at Tashkend was but a very short one. At the end of a fortnight I was on my way back to St. Petersburg.
November 12th.—When I arrived at Samarkand, a telegram from the Emir was brought to me. The Asiatic Sovereign asked to be warned in advance, so that I could be received with fitting ceremony at Kermineh where he wanted to meet me, but I refused and begged him by wire not to trouble himself, because we passed Kermineh by night.
November 14th.—The Amou-Daria is very low at this season. The big river in several places forms wide sandbanks, and this time I was not a bit afraid to cross the bridge.