We went several times, and it was very gorgeous. It is all
pantomime--not a word is spoken--but so well done that one does not
tire of it.
Every one sympathized so with us because we could not see the ceremony
of the Blessing of the Waters of the Neva, and our ambassador
apologized for not being able to arrange it, and we said, "Not at
all," and "Pray, do not mention it," at the same time secretly hoping
that our Russian friends, who were putting forth strenuous efforts on
our behalf, would be able to manage it.
On the morning of the 18th of January a note came from a Russian
officer who was on duty at the Winter Palace, saying that Baron
Elsner, the Secretary of the Prefect of Police, would call for us with
his carriage at ten o'clock, and we would be conducted to the private
space reserved just in front of the Winter Palace, where the best view
of everything could be obtained. My companion and I fell into each
other's arms in wild delight, for it had been most difficult to
manage, and we had not been sure until that very moment.
Now, the person of the Tzar is so sacred that it is forbidden by law
even to represent him on the stage, and as to photographing him--a
Russian faints at the mere thought.
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