nite number of flirtations, and had run so into debt that my father was glad to start me in a new country. But the change was not an improvement. I ran through a year's allowance in a few months, and brought in a harvest of debts. Launched forth into Russian society at twenty-one, petted because I was new and wealthy and well-born, what wonder that I got into all sorts of mischief?
I was dazzled at first by the brilliancy about me, but I soon began to regret America; moments of terrible depression and homesickness came upon me. I felt like a man without a country,—a stranger in my own land, yet obliged to reside there. I begged my father to allow me to go back; but he was inflexible. I must have a "career" in my native country, among my own people; and a career was accordingly looked up for me,—an appointment in a foreign office.
Perhaps I weary you with details. I will not dwell on these trifles.
Soon after my appointment, and while I was still suffering with homesickness, I met a woman who became the strongest influence which my life had yet experienced. Her name was Marie, Countess Talke. She was seven years my senior, and a widow. She took me under her patronage and protection; and as she was one of the most popular women in the fast set which I affected, I was proud of her preference.
Every day I was expected to call upon her, every evening to meet her at some ball or party, and to sup with her at some house afterwards. There was an old
