Well, Dear, this is my last letter from Moscow--you will certainly never again have any letter from Maison Klein, Malaia Dimitrofska, and I suppose I shall never see Moscow again. The court is again most lively (it is certainly an unfailing interest to me, and I am always looking out of the window). Someone has come from one of the Grand Dukes, Michel, I think, to see the big horses. Hawes was very anxious we should sell them in Russia, if we could get a fair price. They have always excited much attention and admiration, but they are very big, and here the Russians are accustomed to a much smaller race, prefer three small ones to one larger pair. I don't know either if they could stand the climate. There seems to be a perfect army of helpers packing carriages, saddles, harness, and all the stable equipment. Mdme. Gille (my couturiere) has arrived. She has made me a very nice little blue foulard shirt, I couldn't stand my cloth body these hot days, and yet must travel in that dress, as I have no other. When I think of the furs that have always remained at the bottom of one of the trunks--so many people told me that it would be impossible to be in Russia in May and June without furs. It is fair to say that Mdme. Jaures told me it was freezing still the morning they left Petersburg--which seems incredible now. I send back all my big trunks and swell garments with the Huberts. I shall keep out only one or two dinner dresses for Petersburg. Poor Mdme. Hubert is rather sad at leaving me, and going back to France without having seen Petersburg, but of course I don't want two maids any longer. This afternoon I went out with Richard for some last shopping. The city is completely changed--not a creature nor a carriage, nor servants in livery, nothing but a deserted city. We met the Austrian Ambassador walking about in a blue flannel vest and a pot hat. The courts of the Kremlin were meconnaissables, not a soul, hardly a soldier--one or two small detachments of Cossacks at the gates. It is an extraordinary change in such a short time. It has become a sleepy little provincial town. We had two or three gentlemen to dinner, M. d'Orval, ancien officier de Chasseurs, just back from a tour in the Caucasus with the Duc de Chartres, and a Russian merchant for whom Richard had letters--the first person I have seen in Russia who was neither noble nor peasant. Both men were interesting enough. The Russian talked prudently, but fairly openly--said there must be a great change--things couldn't go on as they did now, there was a young generation to be reckoned with, active, educated, intelligent, and they must have their say--that when the uprising came there would be a Revolution such as Europe had never seen. I wonder.