the circumstances.''

  ``You English are always so frivolous,'' said the
Princess. ``In Russia we have too many troubles to permit of
our being light-hearted.''

  Reginald gave a delicate shiver, such as an Italian
greyhound might give in contemplating the approach of an ice
age of which he personally disapproved, and resigned himself
to the inevitable political discussion.

  ``Nothing that you hear about us in England is true,'' was
the Princess's hopeful beginning.

  ``I always refused to learn Russian geography at school,''
observed Reginald; ``I was certain some of the names must be
wrong.''

  ``Everything is wrong with our system of government,''
continued the Princess placidly.  ``The Bureaucrats think
only of their pockets, and the people are exploited and
plundered in every direction, and everything is
mismanaged.''

  ``With us,'' said Reginald, ``a Cabinet usually gets the
credit of being depraved and worthless beyond the bounds of
human conception by the time it has been in office about
four years.''

     ``But if it is a bad Government you can turn it out at
the election,'' argued the Princess.  ``As far as I
remember, we generally do,'' said Reginald.

  ``But here it is dreadful, every one goes to such
extremes.  In England you never go to extremes.''

  ``We go to the Albert Hall,'' explained Reginald.

  ``There is always a see-saw with us between repression and
violence,'' continued the Princess; ``and the pity of it is
the people are really not in the least inclined to be
anything but peaceable.  Nowhere will you find people more
good-natured, or family circles where there is more
affection.''

  ``There I agree with you,'' said Reginald.  ``I know a boy
who lives somewhere on the French Quay who is a case in
point.  His hair curls naturally, especially on Sundays, and
he plays bridge well, even for a Russian, which is saying
much.  I don't think he has any other accomplishments, but
his family affection is really of a very high order.  When
his maternal grandmother died he didn't go as far as to give
up bridge altogether but be declared on nothing but black
suits for the next three months.  That, I think, was really
beautiful.''

  The Princess was not impressed.

  ``I think you must be very self-indulgent and live only
for amusement,'' she said.  ``A life of pleasure-seeking and
card-playing and dissipation brings only dissatisfaction.
You will find that out some day.''

  ``Oh, I know it turns out that way sometimes,'' assented
Reginald.  ``Forbidden fizz is often the sweetest.''

  But the remark was wasted on the Princess, who preferred
champagne that had at least a suggestion of dissolved
barley-sugar.

  ``I hope you will come and see me again,'' she said in a
tone that prevented the hope from becoming too infectious;
adding as a happy after-thought, ``you must come to stay
with us in the country.''

  Her particular part of the country was a few hundred
versts the other side of Tamboff, with some fifteen miles of
agrarian disturbance between her and the nearest neighbour.
Reginald felt that there is some privacy which should be
sacred from intrusion.

		 THE RETICENCE OF LADY ANNE

  Egbert came into the large, dimly lit drawing-room with
the air of a man who is not certain whether he is entering a
dovecote or a bomb factory, and is prepared for either
eventuality.  The little domestic quarrel over the
luncheon-table had not been fought to a definite finish, and
the question was how far Lady Anne was in a mood to renew or
forgo hostilities.  Her pose in the arm-chair by the
tea-table was rather elaborately rigid; in the gloom of a
December afternoon Egbert's pince-nez did not materially
help him to discern the expression of her face.

  By way of breaking whatever ice might be floating on the
surface he made a remark about a dim religious light.  He or
Lady Anne were accustomed to make that remark between 4.30
and 6 on winter and late autumn evenings; it was a part of
their married life.  There was no recognized rejoinder to
it, and Lady Anne made none.