It is useless to try to tell any of Kameneff’s stories, they require his individuality, and would lose in repeating. I only felt that it was a great waste that his audience should consist only of us two, when so many might have been enthralled. AUGUST 29TH. When I came down from breakfast I found the two men sitting over a fire. I accused them of “frowsting,” and carried them out to the garden, where Kameneff restarted his unconcluded tale of the Revolution, until we could bear the cold no more, so he finished it indoors in front of the fire. It is a marvellous narrative, pray God I may never forget it. At 2.30, the afternoon having mended, we started off in an open car for the south of the island. On a hill overlooking the sea, with a lonely beach, we stopped, and made a long arduous descent. It was heavenly on the undulating beach of tiny rounded pebbles by the sea edge. Sydney and I paddled and Kameneff, who watched us, became thoroughly laughing and happy. When Sydney and I sat down on the beach and buried our feet in the pebbles, Kameneff began to write verses to me on the back of a five pound note. I don’t know what happened to the bank note, but Kameneff wrote four lines, and Sydney the other four, in French. Kameneff likened me to Venus, but Sydney was flippant, and said that the part of me that he liked best was my feet! The scenery and the climb recalled Capri, but a faded Capri, without colour. Nevertheless, one recalled the feeling of joy that one had at Capri, and Kameneff was much impressed by the beauty and the peace of it, and said how distant politics seemed, and how non-existent Mr. Lloyd George! After awhile we regretfully went on, stopping only for a tea-picnic on a common by a lonely road. SEPTEMBER 2ND. _Brede Place._ I have been here since Monday. Papa is away in Ireland fishing, Mamma is here and believes that I am still going yachting and that a telegram will call me away at any minute. As no wire has yet come and I cannot bear the suspense, I have decided to go up to London for the day, and shall go straight to Kameneff’s office from the station so that I shall know soon whether we start for Russia on Saturday or not. If we do I shall not come back here. I wonder what it will be. To-night, when I said good night to him, Dick clung to me more even than usual, and we talked together for a long time. He held me tight. I was kneeling on the ground beside his bed with my arms round him. He said that he could not bear to let me go to-morrow, and that he would tie me up to a wall. He was so very sweet, and I felt a great reluctance at leaving him. SEPTEMBER 3RD.