Having passed a fortnight at Copenhagen we returned to St. Petersburg by the same way, taking at Stockholm the “Constantin,” another Finnish boat. There were many passengers on board. During dinner I sat next to a young Mexican, Señor Lopez, who was very sarcastic, and found plenty to criticise. (The task is so easy!) He actually tore all our fellow-passengers to pieces. That snob thought himself very sharp-witted and was rather put out that I did not think him so. Opposite me sat an old Frenchman, M. Prévost-Rousseau and his pretty daughter Melle. Camille, who had been touring in Norway and were now on their way back to Paris, passing through St. Petersburg. Melle. Camille was an accomplished linguist, speaking English, German and Italian equally well. I discovered that we had a great deal in common, and an instinctive comradeship sprang up between us. I am not much given to making new friends, but I had a liking to Melle. Camille the moment I saw her, for I generally like or dislike a person at once. We had a bad crossing; the sea was rough and the ship rolled very unpleasantly. Towards morning the wind having changed, calm came on, and I hurried on deck to rejoin Melle. Camille, my new-found friend. We established ourselves comfortably in a secluded spot on the prow of the vessel; scrambling over a pile of boxes we found a seat on a barrel of oil, and had a nice chat. Señor Lopez, who was in the mood of making the most open court to me, and followed me everywhere like a shadow, discovered our hiding place, but we packed him off very soon, and he had to withdraw, ruffled, and out of sorts. We anchored at Helsingfors in the evening and went on shore to stretch our legs. I wanted to boast of the first Russian town before our fellow-passengers, who were visiting our country for the first time, but failed, alas, for the boulevards were full of half-drunken Russian sailors, loafing about, elbowing us and using bad language. Fearing a skirmish, we hurried back on board. At St. Petersburg we parted, with regret with our French friends, who invited us to pay them a visit, some day in Paris. CHAPTER XLIX MOSCOW This winter we had to give tiresome “At Homes” every Sunday from four to six. I was so pleased when those tedious two hours were over.