hen S-sky got his car he said: "I'd rather sell the car than
let a Jew ride in it," when Gunzburg asked to use the automobile.

Madame D's apartment was robbed. Nobody knows "how it happened."
The house guard keeps silent on the subject. Paul sent her a wire to
Kursk, very laconic: "home emptied everything stolen." Now he received
a reply: "Sublet unfurnished." She is a darling. Never saw such
energy. I wonder whether she is trying to get the Emperor out too?...

16.

My interview with his Excellency is worthy of description. Since my
graduation from the Lyceum up to the present time--I have seen many
men of power; when young--they usually knocked me down by their
aureole of magnificence; with age I learned how to distinguish almost
unmistakably in the splendor of that scenery an idiot from a crook.
This one--was quite peculiar.

Kerensky made me wait for about one hour during which I had enough
time to ascertain that since the new regime the rooms had not been
dusted. So what Kerensky said to some foreigner: "Regenerated Russia
will not have recourse to the shameful methods utilized by the old
regime"--were untruthful words. The dust evidently was old regime's.

At the end of the hour (it was enough for Kerensky!) I decided to go
home and mail the resignation. When I got up, however, one of his men
(the young rascal was watching me, I am sure) entered and asked me to
step in. The staging of the reception was prearranged and intended
to impress the visitor; on the desk of the Minister I saw maps and
charts, specimens of tobacco for the soldiers, designs of the new
scenery for the Mariinsky Theatre, models of American shells, foreign
newspapers, barbed wire scissors, etc., etc., just to show the
newcomer the immense range of His Excellency's occupations and duties.
When I stepped in, Kerensky looked at me, posing as being exceedingly
fatigued in caring for the benefit of others. He almost suffered! He
never looked to me so exotic as at this moment: the Palace--and, at
the same time the perspiring forehead, the dirty military outfit. The
magnificence of power,--and the yellowish collar, badly shined
boots. He was glad of the impression produced on me, as I registered
disgust,--he, with his usual knowledge of men, thought it worship.
"Look how we, new Russians, are working"--shouted his whole
appearance, "look, you pig, and compare with what you have been
doing!"

"Alexander Fedorovich," I said approaching h