All night we have journeyed, and all day. It is now evening. Our special train has stopped at a wayside station for three hours to await the Petrograd train, on to which we shall link for Moscow. Then we shall travel again all night and arrive at our destination to-morrow morning. It has been a beautiful day of sunshine. I crossed the frontier riding on the engine. The front of our car has a verandah from which one can get a beautiful view. We crossed two wide rivers on temporary bridges, as the original ones lay in débris below us, having been blown up by Yudenitch in his retreat last year after his attack on Petrograd. The woods on either side of the river were full of trenches, dug-outs and barbed wire. I had tea and bread and caviare at 9 a.m. and the same thing at 3 p.m. and again at 7. There is no restaurant car; we have brought our food with us in a hamper. There are other things to eat besides caviare, only I cannot eat them. There is cheese, and some ham which is not like any ham that I have ever known, and there is a sort of schnitzel sausage and some apples. The soldier who was with us yesterday and is still with us, and whose name is Marinashky, is a chauffeur. I thought he was an officer. He eats with us, smokes with us, joins in the discussions and kindly lays the table for food and clears away for us. It sounds odd, but it seemed quite natural until I heard that he was a chauffeur. My bourgeois bringing-up is constantly having surprises! Marinashky has a nice clear-cut face, and square jaw like the Americans one saw during the war. This afternoon we got out of the train and walked up the line, as there were three hours to dispose of. I led the way because there was a wood I wanted to go to. It was extremely pretty, and the moss sank beneath one’s feet. The children collected berries and scarlet mushrooms, which they brought to me as offerings. On the way back Kameneff and his boy and I found a dry place covered with pine needles, where we lay down, and to the sound of father and son talking softly in Russian I went fast asleep. The sun was setting when they woke me up. In the heart of Russia, in the company of Bolsheviks, I had spent an Arcadian hour. [Illustration: GUKOVSKI, HIS DAUGHTER, KAMENEFF AND MARINASHKY. _p. 62._] SEPTEMBER 20TH. _Moscow, The Kremlin._