When I got home I found that the water had been heated for baths. This was a great joy: I had not had one for eight days. Once a week is our allowance, and it should be on Saturdays, but something went wrong with the pipe, and we have been disappointed each evening, so that in fact I had given up hope. How one has learned to appreciate the most ordinary things that one never thought of being thankful for before. But since I have been here I have had to wash in cold water; nor am I called, but I wake up quite mechanically every morning at eight. It will be wonderful to have scrambled eggs one day for breakfast, but I am getting used to just black bread and butter, and sometimes cheese. I wonder a good deal about my family and friends. It is so strange to have left them without a word, and to get no letters and not to be able to write any. Mamma especially--bless her, who always says “good-night” as if it were “good-bye-for-ever”--I wonder what she feels about my going off without telling her. I wonder if Papa is anxious about me, or indifferent and resentful! When I think about Dick and Margaret I feel a sadness. I can get on without most people in the world, but not without those two, and they must wonder why they do not get letters from me. It it rather dreadful to think that they might believe that my silence means forgetfulness. This evening we went to the “Coq d’Or.” I thought I was back in London until I looked away from the stage. [Illustration: _Marcus Adams._ MARGARET AND RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN. _p. 90._] SEPTEMBER 30TH. Kameneff came to see me in the morning with his watch in his hand, he had twenty minutes. It was paralysing, one cannot talk under such conditions. I confined myself to presenting him with a list of things I want done! Small wonder he comes so seldom to see me. When he does come everyone in the house knows it, and one by one they come to my door and ask to see him, each wanting something of him, while his car which waits at the door is borrowed for an errand. It is very discouraging for him. Borodin took me to “Prince Igor” this evening, it combined the opera with the ballet. In the box next to us was a party of Afghans and with them a Korean. Down in the stalls _one_ man was in a smoking coat and evening shirt, the first I have seen. He was very conspicuous. OCTOBER 1ST.