CHAPTER LXIII

SAN FRANCISCO

We were surrounded at the railway station by a crowd of Negroes, Japs

and Chinamen. We drove to the Lyndhurst, a small hotel in Geary Street,

where Mr. Shaniavski had secured apartments for us. Nothing was said to

the hotel management concerning us, beyond the fact that we were foreign

tourists who did not care to go to a large hotel. Our rooms were engaged

for a week and paid for in advance.

San Francisco, the Queen of the Pacific, and the glory of the Eastern

coast, is a rich and populous city about one hundred years old. After

lunch we went out to explore the place. There are but few cabs in the

streets, everyone takes the tram or the cable road; the way in which

it climbs the steepest hills is wonderful. We took the cable road to

Golden Gate Park, which is very beautiful indeed. Buffaloes graze on the

green lawns and strange birds flash among the boughs. I thought that a

beetle had settled upon my hat and when I blew it off, it appeared to

be a butterfly of fantastical appearance, the size of a bird. In the

part of the park called the Children’s Garden, all kinds of games and

amusements are organised. We saw saddle-horses not bigger than foundland

dogs, and baby-coaches drawn by white sheep. We had tea in the Children’s

Restaurant, where gentlemen are admitted only when accompanied by their

families.

On leaving the park we rode out to the Presidio, a military ground with

big cannon pointing menacingly on to the Pacific Ocean. We stood with the

rest of the crowd to see the President of the United States, who had come

down from San Raphaelo, a fashionable sea-bathing place, to review four

batteries of artillery, two light-batteries of field pieces and a troop

of cavalry. After which the gentlemen of our party went for a stroll

through the Chinese part of the town to Cliff House where seals are

reared; these animals come in hundreds to bask in the sun at a few steps

only from the cliffs. We ladies preferred to go out shopping. We lingered

before the windows of entrancing shops, and listened to an orchestra

playing in a music-shop to attract purchasers.

The climate here is perfect, one doesn’t suffer at all from the heat, in

summer and winter the temperature is nearly always the same. I was very

much astonished, however, to see ladies enveloped in furs in July.

We managed to keep up our incognito at the Lyndhurst, and attracted no

special attention until after the publication in the _Examiner_ of a

statement, that “General Doukhovskoy was supposed to have reached San

Francisco travelling incognito.” After that it was noticed that “The

middle-aged gentleman who appeared to be the leader of the party, but

whose name was registered in the books of the hotel as ‘Mr. Sergius,’

didn’t go out as frequently as at first.” Another San Francisco paper

reproduced our portraits, after which Sergy told me to wear my hat when

I went down to the dining-room, in order not to be easily recognised by

my portrait, copied in different newspapers in which I was reproduced

without my hat.

Our first care in the morning was to peruse the earliest editions of

the papers to see if we were found out. The reporters were on our track

again. A journalist who had been tracking down Mr. Shaniavski all along,

step by step, discovered him out at the Lyndhurst, and wanted to have all

sorts of information about General Doukhovskoy, and again Mr. Shaniavski

told him that he knew nothing about the General.

Sarah, the chambermaid, tried to penetrate our incognito and to learn who

and what I was. More than once, while doing up my room, she expressed the

desire to see a real Russian General. Looking at my hands she said: “I

daresay you have never known what work means, look at your hands, they

are much too white!”

It was Mme. Beurgier who had lifted up the veil of our incognito by

buying a sewing-machine for me. She had ordered it to be sent to

Vladivostock, and the order for the machine gave the information about

our party. Happily we were leaving San Francisco on the following day.

I was greatly amused by the idea that it was a sewing-machine that had

revealed our secret.

The diary of a Russian lady · 第 63 / 126 章