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Updated: September 20, 2025
Baroness B., whom I had seen very much lately, talked to me for a while in a corner, to the ridiculous anger of Maroossia who went to bed tonight without kissing me. "Her mission," she said, as usual coquettishly and childishly looking around with a fear of being overheard, "was a failure."
"You will have to account for it, Boris Platonovich, as even an old friend and relative must think over those accusations." Then Mikhalovsky explained that Misha's man followed the lady up to the house, and that it was Maroossia.
The General told Maroossia that some one explained to him that these difficulties and impediments were provoked by the successes of the Germans on the Riga front, and that they expect a serious drive on Petrograd, and twice insinuated about her going to Yalta, or Gurzoof, or Gagry, as things there rapidly were becoming complicated.
Many and many were giving me advice to leave and were warning me, but I would not listen. When the wire came that poor Maroossia was killed, I lost interest in life completely. So I was living in Petrograd, until the clash for the Assembly. Then, perhaps my nerves needed a good shaking up, I became active again.
I never think that a woman can be anything but pretty or hideous. There is no middle, and no suspicion about them. Baroness B. is pretty. And if she likes to talk like a Pythia, that's her way of making people interested in her. Maroossia complained of a headache, so we left early. Baroness is in the Hotel d'Europe she is so sorry that "her Astoria" became such a hole. Well not only her Astoria.
But the man, the real German hound of Petrograd, Monsieur Ulianov-Lenin, could not be found. Could not be found is true. He has not been looked for, as any ass knows where he is. They send him meals from Félicien, or Ernest. Away from here! I must be going as soon as I get the things straightened. Have wired to Maroossia that I am still alive, otherwise she is liable to appear again.
That is why the Emperor refused a formal foreign intervention, for it would place them in a position of parasites with the "ex" title. After everything is through all of your Kerenskys a parasite could not be popular and desirable.... Well, she got up, "goodby! Kiss Maroossia for me. And here is a friendly warning: don't talk. It is dangerous. Don't trust. It is silly.
Why did you drag Maroossia into your business? You probably are well protected against any disagreeable event, but we are not. So next time please, use your other reasons...." "There was no dragging your wife into my business. The package of laces she took to Madame van der Hüchts is not a crime. Besides everything is over; so, as if nothing had happened." "Yes, it probably is nothing.
My decision is plain. I resign. Then I realize all I can and disappear from this rich field of political life. That's all, Frank." He looked at me. He was very grave. And then suddenly his face changed and he again became the chap that amused Maroossia and myself in Marienbad a few years ago. "So I feel, old man, exactly so," he laughed, "aren't all of them the rottenest types one ever saw?
Maroossia left for her father's. We certainly had some explanation! She cried and felt indignant, and finally understood why I was so angry when the evening papers came out with the news of Baroness B's arrest. Then she understood that she never should do anything that was asked her "without her husband's knowledge." The case, as Mikhalovsky says, is closed.
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