"It goes out of my hands to-night. I shall hand it with a report to the
Chief of the General Staff."
"When shall I hear from them?"
"They will let you know as soon as possible. It's unfortunate you should
have written it. Otherwise, I could have settled the matter myself. As
it is, it is a matter for the military authorities. Of course, such a
letter written in the war zone, at a time like this--" He stopped
himself. "Good-night. Good-night." He clicked his heels and bowed
himself out of the room.
"Ouf!" we all said.
"Mrs. Pierce, promise me you won't put your pen to paper again while you
are in Russia," the English Consul said, smiling.
"But isn't it ridiculous--absurd--disgusting!" I said.
"People are sent to Siberia for less," the Consul said. "But don't be
frightened, Mrs. Pierce. It will come out all right."
"Of course. But when?"
"_Seichas_," he replied, smiling.
"_Seichas._" How I hate the expression. "Peter, you'd better cable for
some more money. Heaven knows when we'll get out now," I said.
Peter sends love too. We are hungry for news from you, and we picture
greedily the piles of letters we shall find waiting for us in Bulgaria.
I try not to be anxious about you--But I wake up at night and this
silence of months is like a dead weight on my heart.