“Well,” I said, “and so you are safely back again in Petersburg, after all your travels! Why, it’s surely eight weeks since we were at the ball at the Palace of your uncle, the Grand Duke Serge.”
“Where you danced with me. Do you remember how we laughed? You said some nasty sarcastic things, so I punished you. I told Captain Stoyanovitch and some of the others that you had flirted with me and kissed me. So there!”
I looked at her in stern reproach.
“Ah!” I said. “So that is the source of all those rumours—eh? You’re a very wicked girl,” I added, “even though you are a Grand Duchess.”
“Well, I suppose Grand Duchesses are in no way different to other girls—eh?” she pouted. “Sometimes I wish I were back again at school at Eastbourne. Ah! what grand times I used to have in those days—hockey and tennis and gym, and I was not compelled to perform all sorts of horrible, irksome etiquette, and be surrounded by this crowd of silly dressed-up apes. Why, Uncle Colin, these are not men—all these tight-uniformed popinjays at Court.”
“Hush, my child!” I said. “Hush! You will be overheard.”
“And I don’t care if I am. Surely a girl can speak out what she thinks!”
“In England, yes, in certain circumstances, but in Russia—and especially at Court—never!”
“Oh, you are so horribly old-fashioned, Uncle Colin. When shall I bring you up-to-date?” cried the petted and spoiled young lady, whose two distinctions were that she was one of the most beautiful girls in all Russia, and the favourite niece of the Tzar Alexander. She had nicknamed me “Uncle,” on account of my superior age, long ago.
“And you are utterly incorrigible,” I said, trying to assume an angry look.