The Princess is simply adorable. Always we are busy, Princess Naïa and
I; and now, since I have laid aside mourning, we go to concerts; we go
to plays; we have been six times to the opera, and as many more to the
Théâtre Français; we have been to the Louvre and the Luxembourg many
times; to St. Cloud, Versailles, Fontainebleau.
Always, when my studies are over, we do something interesting; and I
am beginning to know Paris, and to care for it with real affection; to
feel secure and happy and at home in this dear, glittering,
silvery-grey city--full of naked trees and bridges and palaces. And,
sometimes when I feel homesick, and lonely, and when Brookhollow seems
very, very far away, it troubles me a little to find that I am not
nearly so homesick as I think I ought to be. But I think it must be
like seasickness; it is too frightful to last.
The Princess Mistchenka has nursed me through the worst. All I can say
is that she is very wonderful.
On her day, which is Thursday, her pretty salon is thronged. At
first I was too shy and embarrassed to be anything but frightened and
self-conscious and very miserable when I sat beside her on her
Thursdays. Besides, I was in mourning and did not appear on formal
occasions.
Now it is different; I take my place beside her; I am not
self-conscious; I am interested; I find pleasure in knowing people who
are so courteous, so considerate, so gay and entertaining.
Everybody is agreeable and gay, and I am sorry that I miss so much
that is witty in what is said; but I am learning French very rapidly.
The men are polite to me! At first I was so gauche, so stupid and
provincial, that I could not bear to have anybody kiss my hand and pay
me compliments. I've made a lot of other mistakes, too, but I never
make the same mistake twice.
So many interesting men come to our Thursdays; and some women. I
prefer the men, I think. There is one old French General who is a
dear; and there are young officers, too; and yesterday two cabinet
ministers and several people from the British and Russian embassies.
And the Turkish Chargé, whom I dislike.
The women seem to be agreeable, and they all are most beautifully
gowned. Some have titles. But all seem to be a little too much made
up. I don't know any of them except formally. But I feel that I know
some of the men better--especially the old General and a young
military attaché of the Russian Embassy, whom everybody likes and
pets, and whom everybody calls Prince Erlik--such a handsome boy! And
his real name is Alak, and I think he is very much in love with
Princess Naïa.