I preferred to remain in complete seclusion, and shut my door to all callers, but one evening Helena acted against my orders, and let Mrs. R., one of our military ladies in, a person with whom I had never succeeded in making friends. She came and sat by my bed in spite of my desire for solitude. As I presented an unresponsive cheek to her lips, she inquired suavely if I had read the papers that day, and though she saw that this talk was most distasteful to me, she gave herself great trouble to make it quite clear to me that the day before, in a great clash, Sergy had been exposed to sharp artillery fire. Being on the brink of an outburst of hysterical sobbing, I exclaimed: “Don’t, it hurts me!” But that vixen of a woman, who, if she could say bitter things never lost an opportunity of doing so, continued her horrible descriptions. The aims of my tormentor were attained; I flew into a passion, and turning upon her warlike eyes blazing through a flood of tears, I told her that it was cruel and shameless to come and frighten me like that Mrs. R. sailed away very much offended, and thus ended that pleasant visit. In fact, what right had that disagreeable lady to disturb me like that? I had never known anything but love, and expected it from everything and everybody, but my eyes commenced to open now to the reality and bitterness of life, and I began to experience things which astonished and disgusted me. I had found out at last that the world was hard.
Meanwhile good tidings came from the seat of war; a conference, which assembled in Paris, occasioned a suspension of hostilities. It must surely be the presage of peace, and I clung with all my might to my hope that war would soon be over, and that all my anxieties, my worries, would be at an end. Cheered and strengthened, I so far recovered my spirits as to be able to receive Colonel K., but that gentleman proved to be very unsympathetic and disappointing, for instead of confirming my happy expectations, he prophecied dreadful things, and when I said I hoped better days were in store for me, he replied that it was easy to hope, that hope’s cheap, but nevertheless any possibility of peace was held to be out of the question, and that war would go on for a long time yet But I refused to face that picture. “It won’t, it won’t,” I screamed out, but it was only to make myself believe it wasn’t true. At that moment my anger had risen so high that I struggled against an impulse to fling him out of the room. At last, no longer able to contain myself, I lost all self-control. “I hate you!” I cried out vehemently, and darted past him into Helena’s room and locked myself in. It was certainly very rude of me to give way to such an undignified outburst of passion, but I was so furious with my visitor that I could not be polite to him at that moment, to save my life.
One of my St. Petersburg ex-pages, B⸺, a newly promoted officer, was passing through Alexandropol to the seat of war, and paid me an unexpected visit, but I was in a mood which makes one long to mope in solitude, and could not endure callers, so he was turned from my door greatly disappointed. That officer, as well as all the rest of the unfair sex, (I beg your pardon, gentlemen!) was naught to me; my husband being the one man in the world for me, my heart being true as steel to him, I wanted him alone and no one else.
By this time there were little reconnoitrings of cavalry. Musket shots were exchanged, with great damage on both sides. The news of more fighting, more bloodshed, had just reached me; a great battle was being fought near Alexandropol; we could plainly see the fire and hear the roar of the cannons from the citadel. The Turks were threatening Alexandropol now, and we were in immediate danger of seeing our homes invaded by the hostile army. Fantastical reports circulated that Moussa-Pasha, the commander-in-chief of the Turkish army, had informed Loris-Melikoff that he would dine on the following day at Alexandropol. The mouchir’s visit hung over our town as a nightmare, and a panic arose which drove our military ladies to distraction. They all persuaded me in vain to flee with them, and Helena, who easily lost her head, implored me in her turn to start immediately for Tiflis; but I was not afraid of anything, I felt I did not care what became of me, and declared that I should certainly not stir from Alexandropol. On that same evening our soldiers turned the Turks back, and our ladies grew calm again.
The idea came to me to become Sister of Mercy in order to have the possibility of following our troops. Here again I was destined to meet with disappointment. General Tolstoi, a member of the society of the Red Cross, had refused to take me seriously, saying that I was far too young and inexperienced for such hard work. How perfectly horrid of him!
Oh, what agonies I endured during the hours of fighting! I fancied the raging battle going on in which Sergy might at any moment be killed. One whole night I sat at the window-seat waiting nervously for news; the stillness was broken only by the measured tramp of the sentinel who paced to and fro under my window, and also by the mewing of marauding cats on the terrace roofs. At dawn I received a reassuring telegram from Sergy.
At the end of April my husband came home to spend a whole day with me. Oh, the joy of being together after those two horrid weeks of separation and suspense! Those few hours of calm, of quiet, put life into me again, and roused me from my lethargy. Everything changed when Sergy was here with me; I felt no fear whatever, but I knew that very soon Sergy would have to go back to that dreadful war, and I should be left all alone, lonelier than ever. That short visit only increased the bitter pain of renewed parting. “How shall I ever let you go away again,” I murmured, embracing Sergy tearfully. But I had to do it, and my sorrows came back, and the house seemed blank again.
Meanwhile the Russian army continued to advance boldly. The telegraphic despatches gave the description of a fiery battle between our Cossacks and the Turkish pickets. In May the siege of Ardagan took place; Sergy entered the town at the head of a big detachment of soldiers, and notwithstanding the energetic resistance of the Turks, the citadel of Ardagan was obliged to capitulate. The battle was hot, and the Turks who had fought desperately for eighteen hours, sustained great losses. The streets were literally filled with dead and wounded; the corpses were crowded in heaps, one upon the other, and it took three whole days to clear them away. It was frosty weather fortunately, otherwise one couldn’t have breathed for the dreadful smell.
On the 13th of May (evil day) a great battle was fought near Zevine. On the same day the Turks blockaded our fortress of Baiazette. A small number of soldiers shut up in that citadel showed great steadiness under fire, and rained shells upon the enemy, defending themselves desperately. Their situation was very critical indeed. They were short of water, and had to leave their shelter to draw water from a source running under the rocks, whilst the Turks opened a terrible fire upon them. It was certainly a very perilous undertaking. The Russians held the town ten days until a reinforcement arrived which put the Turks to flight and delivered the Russian garrison.
The Grand Duke Michael had proceeded to the seat of war whilst the Grand Duchess, his spouse, established herself for an indefinite period in the citadel of Alexandropol. Miss Ozeroff, one of her maids-in-waiting, came to see me, and hinted to me that the Grand Duchess expected a visit from me. My first impulse was to decline this honour and say, “No,” but Miss Ozeroff, catching me like a fish in her net, invited me one afternoon for a cup of tea. As it was one of my good days, for I had just received a telegram from Sergy, I accepted her invitation, and picking myself up, I put on my plainest walking-dress and a broad-brimmed garden hat and set off for the citadel. I gave my card to a tall lackey in glittering livery, and ordered him to conduct me upstairs to Miss Ozeroff’s private apartments. My cunning hostess, in spite of my protestations, insisted on carrying me off to the Grand Duchess. I was quite unprepared for that and very much upset. The Grand Duchess, however, most kindly rose to embrace me and placed me on the sofa by her side. She began directly to talk of the war operations and related to me that during the siege of Ardagan, for which Sergy had received the Cross of St. George, he had been in great danger, his horse having been shot from under him. When I heard this I turned very pale and burst into a storm of tears. The Grand Duchess tried vainly to sooth me, telling me that perhaps it might not be true that Sergy had been in such mortal danger, but I continued to sob hysterically, for I was not altogether a Spartan, I must confess.