air of indifference with which Tolstoy regarded his wife's
humanity and naturalness. Tolstoy takes himself with profound
seriousness, but, in spite of his influence on Russia and the outside
world, the great teacher has been unable to cure his wife's interest in
millinery.

Nordau told me in Paris that Tolstoy was a combination of genius and
insanity. Undoubtedly Tolstoy is actuated by a genuine desire to free
Russia, but the idea was unmistakably imbedded in my mind that his
Christianity was like Napoleon's description of a Russian. Scratch it
and you would find Tartar fanaticism under it,--the fanaticism of the
ascetic who would drive his own flesh and blood into the flames to save
the soul of his domestics. This impression grew as I watched the
attitude of the countess toward her husband. What must a wife think of
such a husband's views of marriage when she is the mother of thirteen of
his children? What must she think of insincerity when he refuses to
copyright his books because he thinks it wrong to take money for
teaching, yet permits _her_ to copyright them and draw the royalties for
the support of the family?

Her opinion of her famous husband lies beneath her manner, covered
lightly by a charming and graceful impatience,--the impatience of a
spoiled child.

When we got into the carriage I said:

"Well?"

"Well," said our friend the consul, who had not spoken during the
interview, "he is the queerest man I ever met. But how he pumped you!"

"We are all 'copy' to him," said Jimmie. "He wanted information at first
hand."

"Sometime he may succeed in convincing his daughter," said Mrs. Jimmie,
"but never his wife. She knows him too well."

"Yet he seemed interested in you and Jimmie," said Bee, ruefully. Then
more cheerfully, "but we're asked to come again!"

"We are living documents; that's why."

"What do you think of him?" said Jimmie to me with a grin of
comradeship.

"I don't know. My impressions have got to settle and be skimmed and
drained off before I know."

"Well, we'll go to their reception anyway," said Bee, comfortably, with
the air of one who had no problems to wrestle with.

"What are you going to wear?"

To be sure! That was the main question after all. What were we going to
wear?

CHAPTER XII

AT ONE OF THE TOLSTOY RECEPTIONS

When we arrived the next evening, it was to find a curious situation.
The Countess Tolstoy and her daughter and young son, in European
costum