I continued to display an obstinate preference for seclusion, and refused myself to callers. I might as well be shut away in prison. I had, moreover, imposed on myself the vow never to set foot out of my room until Sergy’s definite return. This life was telling upon my nerves and I fell into a condition of dreadful mental apathy. I had no wish for anything and fretted myself into a kind of low fever. I had lost my sleep and hated the sight of food, and became thinner and more wretched every day, until at last I was a shadow of myself. I nearly drove my poor Helena mad with my pale face and tear-sodden eyes. At length she became so uneasy about me that she wrote the most alarming reports of my health to my mother, who started immediately for Alexandropol with my cousin, Kate Swetchine, to help me bear my grief and soothe my sorrows. They were certainly a dear comfort, both of them, but I wanted Sergy, and continued to send him daily laconic despatches with one word only, “Come.”
My condition was so alarming that my husband decided to beg for a leave of absence as soon as he could, in order to take me abroad for a short time. Meanwhile a suspension of arms had been agreed upon, and our troops remained in inaction before the fortress of Kars. Profiting by that short calm, Sergy had obtained a leave of absence on the plea of urgent private affairs. It was a very great surprise to me, almost too good to be true. Happy days were yet in store for me!
It was decided that we should spend a week in Paris; the project was a delightful one. With what impatience I awaited Sergy’s arrival! Though for a short while, I said still I’ll have him all to myself now!
On the day of my husband’s proposed arrival I sat at the open window in joyous excitement and expectation, listening intensely, with every nerve tingling, to the sounds in the street outside. What a day it had been—a hundred hours in it! The clock-hands seemed to crawl on purpose. Seeing my agitation, Helena mounted on our roof, but as Sister Anne on her watch-tower, she didn’t perceive my knight. Suddenly I heard a rolling of wheels under my window and a carriage drove up to the door. Mamma flew out to greet Sergy, but instead of him, rushed into the arms of a total stranger. She had got hold of the wrong man and found herself confronted by an officer who brought a letter from Sergy, explaining his unexpected delay. And I had been just withering up with impatience to see him!
Two days later a telegram announced my husband’s definite arrival. On the eve of that happy day I went to bed very early and awakened the next morning with the pleasant sense of anticipation of the coming journey.
Hurrah! My husband had arrived at last! I should have gone mad if he hadn’t come that time. With what joy I ran forward and hugged him! He was given back to me, thank God! I put my arms round his neck and cried over him for happiness.
So it was decided at last, and we were to start for Paris in a few days. I was now all impatience to be off. The first thing we did after Sergy’s arrival was to order a Te Deum of thanksgiving. What a joy I felt when I went out of doors for the first time after my voluntary days of jail. I was very tired after my long imprisonment, and found myself coming to life again. The next day we were on our way to Tiflis. My nerves being tiresomely on edge just then, I was in a horrible fright all the way, and before approaching a steep hill that we had to ascend, I jumped out of the carriage and sat down in the middle of the road, and folding my arms I declared that I would not proceed further. My cousin Kate followed my example and established herself on the chaussée beside me, saying that she wouldn’t move either. As we could not take up our quarters on the highway for ever, I gathered up my somewhat scattered courage and remounted the carriage.
From Tiflis we went straight on to Paris, and mamma returned to Russia with my cousin.
Our stay abroad was not altogether a very agreeable one, for Sergy was all the time very nervous and careworn, dreading to arrive too late for the siege of Kars. As to me, this trip brought the roses back to my cheeks, but as the time for my husband’s return to the war drew near, my face grew sadder. I dreaded going back, having the painful knowledge that we must return to all the horrors of war again.
We came back to Alexandropol before my husband’s holidays expired. To his great disappointment, and to my immense delight, General Komaroff had already taken possession of Kars, which was thought to be impregnable.