There were three officers at a table. One of them was shot through the throat, and was bandaged. I saw him put all his food on one side, unable to swallow it. Then a high official came and sat down and drank his health. The officer raised his glass gallantly, and put his lips to the wine, but his throat was shot through, he made a face of agony, bowed to the great man opposite, and put down his glass. Some surgeons in white began to go about, taking names and particulars of the men's condition. Everyone was kind to the returned soldiers, but they had borne too much. Some day they will smile perhaps, but yesterday they were silent men returned from the dead, and not yet certain that their feet touched Russia again. CHAPTER II WAITING FOR WORK We paid our heavy bills and left Petrograd on Monday, the 29th November. Great fuss at the station, as our luggage and the guide had disappeared together. A comfortable, slow journey, and Colonel Malcolm met us at Moscow station and took us to the Hotel de Luxe--a shocking bad pub, but the only one where we could get rooms. We went out to lunch, and I had a plate of soup, two faens (little wheat cakes), and the fifth part of a bottle of Graves. This modest repast cost sixteen shillings per head. We turned out of the Luxe Hotel the following day, and came to the National, where four hundred people were waiting to get in. But our guide Grundy had influence, and managed to get us rooms. It is quite comfortable. None of us was sorry to leave Petrograd, and that is putting the case mildly. People there are very depressed, and it was a case of "she said" and "he said" all the time. Everyone was trying to snuff everyone else out. "I don't know them"--and the lips pursed up finished many a reputation, and I heard more about money and position than I ever heard in my life before. "Bunty" and I used to say that the world was inhabited by "nice people and very nice people," and once she added a third class, "fearfully nice people." That is a world one used to inhabit. I suppose one must make the best of this one! [Page Heading: MOSCOW] _Moscow. 2 December._--Hilda Wynne was rather feverish to-day, and lay in bed, so I had a solitary walk about the Kremlin, and saw a fine view from its splendid position. But, somehow, I am getting tired of solitude. I suppose the war gives us the feeling that we must hold together, and yet I have never been more alone than during this last eighteen months. * * * * * _To Miss Macnaughtan's Sisters._ CREDIT LYONNAIS, MOSCOW, _3 December._ MY DEARS, I have just heard that there is a man going up to Petrograd to-night who will put our letters in the Embassy bag, so there is some hope of this reaching you. It is really my Christmas letter to you all, so may it be passed round, please, although there won't be much in it.