So I said to Kameneff: “Where is truth?” And he answered: “There is no truth in the world, the only truth is in one’s own heart.” SEPTEMBER 9TH. My birthday, and the most hectic day of my life! In the morning I worked more or less calmly. The “Victory” was just being finished, Smith was chipping away the last remains of mould. Rigamonti, under my direction was punching the block of Princess Pat., so that marble chips flew like shrapnel in all directions. Meanwhile, Hart came to get my last orders about marble pedestals for unfinished bronzes, and on top of all Fiorini turned up. He was terribly hurt because I have given the heads of Kameneff and Krassin to Parlanti to cast. He had dreamed of doing them--he had a Bolshevik workman in his foundry, who asked every day when those heads were coming. He would have cast them, he said, for nothing, just for the honour and glory of doing them. I felt terribly badly about it. The little Italian man is such an enthusiast, and he met Kameneff here, who shook hands with him, and Fiorini felt about it as most other people would about their King. Moreover, on that occasion, he hid behind a pedestal, and remained so quiet for a quarter of an hour, watching me and my sitter, that I forgot that he was there. But because I understood from him that he had as much work as he could get through for me in time for my exhibition, I had given the heads to Parlanti, who promised them in time. I hope that I comforted him by promising to give him duplicates to cast, as presents for Kameneff and Krassin, the which I had had no intention of doing, and can ill afford, but to cheer up Fiorini, I will do it. Then the telephone went and Klyschko announced to me that it was all decided--Kameneff is starting on Saturday morning, has reserved places, and I have nothing to do but get my ticket. I said that I was having difficulties over my passport, and he explained to me that all I need is the visa via Christiania to Stockholm, and that at Stockholm the Esthonian Legation would see me through. I dined with Sophie Wavertree and F. M. B. Fisher. He walked home with me; he it was who originally brought me into this wonderful new world. SEPTEMBER 10TH. Kameneff telephoned at breakfast. He is really starting to-morrow. At 10.15, a wire from Sydney to say that he is arriving from Scotland, at 5 o’clock. 11.30, to Barclays Bank, cashed £100. 11.40, to Cooks’, bought my ticket. 12 o’clock, to Bond Street Office, saw Kameneff. He says it doesn’t matter about a passport, that he can push me through from Stockholm. 1 o’clock, bought a hat in South Moulton Street. 2 o’clock, back at studio. Wrote letters all afternoon. 4.30, hair washed and cut. 7 o’clock, back to studio, packed and dined.