During my stay with Themistocle I had been learning history, as it is never written, but as it is most strangely lived by a people on the brink of dissolution and disaster. As an escaped prisoner I thought that delay in Constantinople--somewhere clean, however--would not be time wasted if one was in touch with the politics of the time. If the Russian scheme failed, there were other openings, by earth and air and water. But the first thing to do was to find a place where I could lay my head without getting it bitten. * * * * * The good angel of prisoners came to my assistance at this critical juncture in my affairs. "You must be disguised as a girl," said she--"I will buy you a wig at once." "But what about my figure?" I asked, "and my feet . . .?" "Some clothes were left with me at the beginning of the war," she answered, "which will fit you with the help of a tailor. And as to your shoes, your own will pass muster, with new bows. No one has had any proper shoes for ages here. But you will want--well, lots of other things." And I certainly _did_ want a lot, before I looked at all presentable. After very careful shaving, I began to splash about confidently at my toilet table. There was Vesuvian black for the eyebrows, _bistre_ for the eyelashes, _poudre violette_, rouge, carmine--more powder--more rouge--at last I showed my satisfied face to Miss Whitaker, who gave a cry of horror, and flatly refused to be seen in my company. There was nothing for it but to wash my face and start again. This time I succeeded in making myself presentable, although a blue streak of whisker seemed always slightly visible through the powder. The wig, however, helped matters greatly, and I arranged some ringlets on my shaven cheeks. The dressing-up was quite exciting. Silk and lace and whalebone, especially a lot of lace in front, was the basis on which I built. The foundations took some time in laying, but when finished I found to my delight that the coat and skirt belonging to Miss Whitaker's friend fitted my figure perfectly. A few details, invisible to my eyes, were quickly corrected, and I think that when I finally emerged, with large hat at a becoming angle, I did credit to my instructress. Gloves I had always to wear, of course, and a veil was advisable, chiefly to tone down my blinding beauty to the eyes of passers-by. Do what I would, however, I could not hide a certain artificiality in my appearance, which was most unfair to Miss Whitaker, considering that I was her companion. But I behaved as well as I possibly could. [Illustration: The Author as a German Governess]