ks at
her curiously, and I have seen several gentlemen in fur pelisses, with
gold-headed canes, stop and speak to her. In the morning she wheels up
her cart by the curbing and polishes the pears and apples with the end
of her shawl till they shine. Then she piles them up in red and yellow
pyramids and waits for customers, her hands on her hips. Everything
about her is crude and flaming and inextinguishable like life itself.
Her scarlet skirt lights up the whole street. It floats about her, and
when she bends over to serve a customer, you can see the edges of green
and yellow and pink and brown petticoats underneath as her overskirt
tilts up. The lines of her body are brutal and compact. Her dark,
mulberry-colored shawl is stretched tightly across her full bosom. Her
eyebrows meet over her nose in a heavy, broad line like a smudge of
charcoal, and her nose is spongy, and her lips swollen and red from
taking snuff. She holds her black and silver snuff-box in her hand or
hides it away in a pocket in her voluminous skirt when she serves some
one. Her fingers are covered with rings and she wears yellow hoops in
her ears. I am repulsed as well as attracted. She is like a bold,
upright stroke of life, and then I see her crafty eyes and notice how,
in spite of her size, when she moves it is with the softness and
flexibility of a huge cat.

Peter went to Petrograd to-day and he will stay there till he gets our
passports. He would have gone a month ago, but first came the panic
from the German advance, and then the railways were used only for
military purposes. Now, Marie and I are alone, waiting for a telegram
from him.

V

_October._

To-day, the chief of the secret service came and told us all political
prisoners were to be sent on to Siberia. He told us to make a small
bundle of necessary things and be ready to leave at any time. With Peter
in Petrograd! I asked him where we were going and he shrugged his
shoulders. I went to Mr. Douglas, who has wired Peter. Also, he is going
to see the chief and try and keep in touch with us. We won't leave till
the last moment. But already many of the hospitals have been moved, and
certain prisoners. I suppose I must destroy these letters to you. But I
will wait till the last moment. I want so much for you to get them and
know what has happened, because I shan't see you, to tell you with my
voice, for over a year still. I have written so full