Artur Gundaccar was the soul of these festivities. And gradually and blissfully it dawned upon us that we loved each other. The sisters gave their laughing benediction. The parents knew nothing about it; there could of course be no question of our being married, so they would have put an end to the affair most speedily. Why destroy the innocent happiness, why banish the “Midsummer Night’s Dream” mood? And so we guarded our secret, and the sisters helped us to guard it. It was a delightful time. Not without melancholy, because we knew that a life union was impossible for us; but as yet we refused to think of the separation—for the present we would be glad in the divine gift which was ours because our hearts kept time in their beating, because their flames streamed together into one. Guilelessly, unselfishly, unreservedly, with utter trust, with tender devotion, we loved each other. From the first I had announced that in three years I was going to leave Europe and we should be obliged to part. This was the way of it. I had kept up a lively correspondence with my Caucasian friends and told them of the change in my worldly circumstances. The old Princess of Mingrelia, who had now returned home, offered to take me into her family, but not until she had finished building and furnishing a castle in her home town of Zugdidi. The old castle, which the prince had furnished in European style and with great magnificence, had been destroyed by the Turkish bands when the Dedopali was compelled to take flight, and now she had in mind to build a new one still finer. I had seen the plans and had often been told the details of the decoration. There was a hall in Persian style, another in the style of Louis XIV; furniture and hangings and works of art the princess had gradually acquired during her residence in Europe, and had dispatched them to Zugdidi. Enormous packing cases were piled up there and were waiting to be opened. Once I myself was charged with procuring something for her: a big music box (I might go as high as fifteen thousand francs) which should play orchestral pieces. I remember that I had Artur go with me to make this purchase. A music box was wound up and played a waltz as a test. “Perhaps I shall dance to this waltz in Zugdidi,” I said. “As if I would let you go!” “It will have to be; I have made up my mind.” “Let us not talk about it.” I had also kept up a correspondence with Salomé. She lived in the vicinity of Paris and was now the mother of a second little boy. The Empress Eugénie was his godmother, and he was christened Napoleon. Nikolaus of Mingrelia was aide to the Emperor of Russia and living in St. Petersburg. Here is a letter which the princess wrote from a halting place in her journey to her home land: Yalta, September 12, 1873 My dear Contessina,