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Softening, perhaps, the frankness for which my “French” education has been so often held responsible, I would only say: “There are alluring distractions!”

And in marriage I pin my faith upon the Italian proverb: “Keep to the women and cows of your own country.”

The utter destitution of so many members of the old Russian aristocracy, has not deprived its women of their temperamental charm. It has provided them with an occasion (genuine enough, God knows) for tears no British youth can resist, unmoved as he will remain under the fiercest shell-fire.

Yet one Englishman told me his Russian wife had taken every penny he possessed, and vanished—he knew not where. Another “fears it is only a matter of time. His ‘noble’ wife cannot be expected to put up with Clapham, and when something better turns up, he will be discarded.” One married “a sweet, soft voice” out of sheer loneliness; and another, foolish and rich, clothed in priceless ermine the lady he met “at a bar!” There is no need to dwell on other, less honourable, “consequences” of such “casual” meetings.