In a very short time it became evident to me that Constance had
remained true to tradition and the environment from which we both had
sprung. A social environment which is much the same in all countries.
Meanwhile she realized that I had played truant. We had an amusing time
renewing ourselves to each other. We began cautiously, but in the end,
admitting totally different tastes and opinions, we have linked up a
friendship that is now confirmed.
Meanwhile the social strenuousness of Burlingame cannot kill me
physically, because I am a very strong woman, but it has killed me
mentally. There is a pain at the back of my forehead and a void where
thoughts should be. Burlingame has, collectively, the psychology of
a great big girls’ school. The stranger arrives and is looked at, is
accepted or ignored, as the case may be. Burlingame is independent
of spirit and likes as it pleases. Like children, they seem to be
care-free, happy and contented. Yes, surely these are happy people,
they represent exclusively the prosperous,--they have no anxieties of
life. Contentment is their most conspicuous quality--they would not be
here, else.
It is a self-indulgent, happy-go-lucky community, not over-critical,
the spirit of “live-and-let-live” which is rather rare in the East,
thrives here. They lead an easy life in a kindly climate, they can
afford to be generous. They all know each other very well, and they see
one another every day. Sometimes three times and sometimes four. Their
houses are close together. There are no big properties as in England
to rouse one’s sense of inequality. They motor to each other’s houses
and to the country club, although they are only a stone’s throw in
distance, and every time they meet they are pleased to see each other.
I wonder they have anything left to say, yet they talk all the time. It
is true they do not listen much, they all talk at the same time.
On Saturdays and Sundays, and at night, there are men. These love their
golf, their tennis and their bridge, and they dress like Englishmen.
In their midst is one strange man who does not belong. I met him, of
course, the moment I arrived. My name being somehow associated in
people’s minds with Russia, I must surely meet this Russian no matter
what kind of Russian he might be.
“They” said he is the Russian consul, representing the Russian
government. No one seemed to know that the Russian government is not
represented in this country and no one cared.
True to type, I recognized at once that he belonged to the regime
that’s gone. With all the charm and arrogance, the old world manners
and impenetrable smile, this blasé cosmopolitan, appreciative, yet
consciously superior, stood out--a stranger in their midst. No party
seemed complete without him. But I too was a stranger and watched him
and I watched them, and I saw that he too watched. Sometimes I thought
I knew what he was thinking and ofttimes I gave it up.