"'All right,' said the Grand Duke, 'marry the first woman who comes in here.' "'Certainly, provided, of course, that she's not married already,' added my father, who was religious. "'I bet you won't.' "'How much?' "'A hundred thousand roubles.' "'Done.' "I believe King George of Greece had never had such an amusing time before. Poor man, I was genuinely grieved when he was assassinated six months ago. Just imagine, you two, what a scene it must have been, with those three men waiting for the door to open on her who was to be a Tumene princess, for they knew my father's obstinacy, and that he would marry Queen Pomaré or Madame Dieulafoy rather than lose his bet. "The first-comer was my mother, the Duchess Eleanor of Hesse-Darmstadt, then aged sixteen, and behind her was her English governess. I still shiver at the thought that, if the Englishwoman had preceded her, Papa would certainly have married her and I should have been much less pretty. "As it happened Mamma was beauty itself, a blonde Melusine. Perhaps not quite as lovely as you, dear Melusine. I never knew her well, as I was only five when she died. She never managed to make herself at home in our Tartary. I remember how she would shiver in the early autumn evenings at the cry of the curlew in the Volga marshes. Papa was terribly unfaithful to her. She could only weep, and I'm afraid that's just the thing that annoys men most. "I still cannot understand how any one could fail to be happy in our palace. Please don't think it was a barbarian lair. In 1850 we were visited by a Frenchwoman, and you can read the book she wrote, 'Voyages dans les Steppes de la Caspienne.' It was published in Paris. Her name was Madame Hommaire de Hell, and her husband was an engineer employed on some geodetical mission. You can verify all this in your books. She was received by my grandfather and has given a very full description of the palace. "This palace is built on an island in the Volga. My ancestors selected the site on account of marauders. The marauders are no more, but the place is as picturesque as ever. "My earliest memory is the noise of the hooter of the paddle-steamer which plied between us and Astrakhan three times a week. It was an agreeable sound because it meant visitors--the governor, the French Minister, a pleasant individual like Marçais, who brought me dolls and, later on, books. Like a true aristocrat, Papa was never happier than when entertaining company.