The moment the prince left me to myself I began to wander about, and if I had made a series of appointments, I could not have met with more acquaintances hailing from Naples to St. Petersburg, and from Stockholm to Constantinople. The variety of costume and languages was truly astonishing. It was like a bazaar of all the nations of the world. Honestly, I felt that for the first time in my life I was experiencing the intoxication of a masked ball. My brain seemed to reel under the spell of the incessant music, the secrecy of disguise, the atmosphere of mystery by which it was surrounded, the general state of incognito, the uncurbed and boundless gaiety, the force of circumstances, and the irresistible seductiveness of the picture before me. I feel certain that older and stronger heads than mine would have proved equally weak. In a short time I had quite a group of friends around me. Taking advantage of a moment when the Prince de Ligne was less hemmed in, I begged of him not to worry about me for that evening, and flung myself headlong into the whirl of gaiety, freedom from care, and happiness, which seemed the normal condition of this extraordinary gathering. By and by I met with more friends, and between us we ‘improved the shining hours’ preceding the supper, when we sat down, about a score in all, to wind up the joyous evening. As a matter of course, during the first part of the repast I was plied with questions about my doings since we had met, and I was scarcely less eager to question the questioners. This or that one from whom I parted as a sub-lieutenant had become a general; another who was an attaché when last I saw him was now himself ambassador, and the majority were covered with orders, conferred for their courage or their talent. And amidst the general animation produced by the champagne, they took to recounting, ‘harum-scarum’ fashion, the happy circumstances to which they owed their rapid promotion. Among those rapid and brilliant careers there was, however, none that caused me greater surprise than that of Zibin. In 1812, when, yielding to a desire for travel, I quitted Moscow to visit the Crimea, Ukraine, and Turkey,[21] Zibin had been my companion. In that long course across the steppes of Russia, his constant gaiety and his clever sallies did much to beguile the tedium of the journey, and to revive my courage. Eighteen months had scarcely gone by since our return from Tauris and our parting at Tulczim, he to follow Countess Potocka to St. Petersburg, I to make my way to the Duc de Richelieu at Odessa, and thence to Constantinople. At that period, Zibin had not joined the army; in spite of this, he was now a lieutenant-colonel, aide-de-camp to General Ojarowski, and on his breast glittered several orders.