I had taken the post from St. Petersburg, but at Riga we met the Grand Duchess of Baden, who was on her way to the Empress, her daughter, and who left not a horse on our route. I was obliged to hire horses at livery-stables, and the coachman, instead of putting me down for the night at the posthouses, took me to wretched cabins where there were no beds and nothing to eat, so that in most cases I spent the night in my carriage. As for food, the soup I got was made without meat, but with carrots and bad butter. If I had a fowl killed it was so lean and so tough that M. de Riviere and I were unable to cut it. And we barely had time to finish these miserable meals, in so great haste were the liverymen to resume the journey. We drove through such deep sand that the horses went at a walk. It was frightfully hot. In order to get air I was obliged to leave all my windows open, and both postilions smoked incessantly; the vile odour of their pipes sickened me so that I preferred to walk most of the time they smoked, although I was up to my ankles in sand. Fortunately, no robbers are ever met with on these roads. True, I noticed wolves on the neighbouring heights, but apparently they were afraid of us, for they always fled when we drew near, and so did the poor stags, which I frequently saw crossing the road, when alarmed by M. de Riviere's calash. In my state of health such hardships were bound to tell upon me. A few days, in fact, were enough to break me down to such a degree that not to succumb altogether it needed all my courage and my lively determination not to interrupt the journey. I became so weak and ill that I had to drag myself to my carriage, where I remained motionless, bereft even of the ability to think. The only sensation I had was a sharp pain in the right side, caused by rheumatism, and intensified with every jolt. This pain was so unbearable that one day, when we were driving on a road under repair and full of stones, I fainted away in the carriage.