They had intended to be married immediately on their arrival in Monte Carlo, but, as is always the case with Russians, it had turned out that the ceremony could only take place on the production of countless official papers that had to be sent for to Russia. In the meantime, they had settled in a large hotel close to the Casino—the only hotel open all the year round—and happy in each other’s society, they revelled in the glories of the golden springtime that fashionable Riviera visitors had so foolishly abandoned. Monte Carlo produced a very curious impression on Irene. In Rome she had seen, side by side with palaces, splendid carriages, and dazzling luxury, the most heart-rending poverty and beggary—a contrast to be met with in all large cities. Here, on the contrary, there was nothing of the kind. It seemed as if every inhabitant of this sunlit fairyland lived and existed merely for his own pleasure. The very waiters at the Café de Paris hummed and danced to the sound of the Hungarian orchestra as they served visitors with refreshments. The Arab pedlars, selling Eastern shawls, wandered through the gardens in their white _burnous_ and their smart red boots, apparently more intent upon boasting of the beauty of their wares than upon selling them. The only busy people in the whole place seemed to be the croupiers, and when, at given hours, groups of them came out of the Casino to be replaced by new relays, they reminded one of workmen leaving a factory after an exhausting day’s work. The remaining inhabitants did nothing from morning till night but walk about in elegant summer clothes, feed pigeons, drink tea to the accompaniment of music, play with their absurd little dogs, or gamble in the Casino. Irene was much interested in this, to her, novel type of public, and was particularly astonished at the sight of so many middle-aged, even old, women, with dyed hair, made-up faces, girlish dresses and hats, tripping gracefully along, and smiling coquettishly at their funny little old-men admirers. The latter, even if somewhat shaky on their legs, also wore light, fashionable clothes, and flowers in their buttonholes. At first they made Irene laugh, but soon, with the inconsistency of nearly all weak characters, she began to wonder whether it was not much wiser to cling to one’s youth than to be old at thirty, as was her own case. The conviction that this was indeed so came upon her suddenly, and she immediately rushed off to Nice, and ordered a whole mountain of elegant dresses, hats, false curls, etc. Having previously considered it a sin to spend an extra penny on clothes, Irene now went from shop to shop, never even attempting to bargain, and throwing money about with almost feverish prodigality in her desire to possess herself without delay of all that was most elegant and luxurious in the way of frocks and frills.