In Search of the Miraculous

one side and a chain of mountains already covered with snow on the other. I was very

sorry for those of our people who had stayed in Moscow and St. Petersburg.

But even on the day following my arrival I noticed that there was something

wrong. There was not a trace of the Essentuki atmosphere. I was particularly

astonished at Z.'s position. When I had left for St. Petersburg in the beginning of

September Z. was full of enthusiasm; he continually urged me not to stay in St.

Petersburg since it might become so difficult to get through.

"Do you never intend to be in St. Petersburg any more?" I asked him then.

"One who flees to the mountains does not turn back," Z. replied.

And now, on the day following my arrival in Uch Dere, I heard that Z. intended to

return to St. Petersburg.

"What can he be going back there for? He has left his employment, what is he

going to do there?"

"I do not know," said Dr. S., who had told me about it. "G. is not pleased with him and says that he had better go."

It was difficult for me to get Z. himself into a talk. He obviously did not desire to

explain but he said that he really intended to leave.

Gradually, by questioning others, I found out that a strange thing had happened. A

very absurd quarrel between G. and some Letts, our neighbors, had occurred. Z. was

present at it. G. had not liked something Z. had said or something, and from that day

he had completely changed towards him, stopped speaking to him, and, in general,

put him into such a position that Z. was obliged to announce his decision to leave.

I considered this to be pure idiocy. To go to St. Petersburg at this time seemed to

me the height of absurdity. There was a real famine there, unruly crowds, robbery,

and nothing else. At that time of course one could not yet have imagined that we

should never see St. Petersburg again. I counted upon going there in the spring. I

thought that by the spring there would be something definite. But now, in the winter,

this was quite unreasonable. I could have understood it if Z. was interested in politics

and was studying the events of the period, but as this was not the case I saw no

motives for it whatever. I began to persuade Z. to wait, to decide nothing at once, to

talk to G., and to try somehow to clarify the position. Z. promised me not to be in a

hurry. But I saw that he was indeed in a very strange position. G. completely ignored

him and this produced on Z. a most depressing impression. Two weeks passed in this

way. My arguments had worked on Z. and he said that he would stay if G. agreed to

let him. He went to speak to G., but came back very soon with a disturbed face.

"Well, what did he say to you?"

"Nothing in particular; he said that once I had decided to go I had better go."

Z. went. I could not understand it. I would not have let a dog go to St. Petersburg at

that time.

G. intended to pass the winter at Uch Dere. We lived in several houses spread over

a large plot of land. There was no kind of "work" in the sense of what had been at Essentuki. We chopped up trees for winter firewood; we collected wild pears; G.

often went to Sochi where one of our people was in hospital, having contracted

typhoid before my arrival from St. Petersburg.

Unexpectedly G. decided to go to another place. He found that here we might easily

be cut off from all communication with the rest of Russia and be left without

provisions.

G. went away with half of our company and afterwards sent Dr. S. for the rest. We

again forgathered in Tuapse and from there we began to make excursions along the

seashore to the north where there was no railway. During one of these trips S. found

some of his St. Petersburg acquaintances who had a country house twenty-four miles

north of Tuapse. We stayed the night with them and the next morning G. hired a

house half a mile away from them. Here our small company again forgathered. Four

went to Essentuki.

Here we lived for two months. It was a very interesting time. G., Dr. S., and I went

to Tuapse every week for provisions for ourselves and fodder for the horses. These

trips will always remain in my memory. They were full of the most improbable

adventures and very interesting talks. Our house stood overlooking the sea three miles

from the big village of Olghniki. I had hoped that we would live there a longer time.

But in the second half of December there came the rumors that a part of the Caucasian

Army was moving towards Russia on foot along the shores of the Black Sea. G. said

that we would again go to Essentuki and begin fresh work. I went first. I took part of

our belongings to Pyatigorsk and returned. It was possible to get through although

there were bolsheviks in Armavir.

The bolsheviks, in general, had increased in the north Caucasus and friction began

between them and the Cossacks. At Mineralni Vodi, when we all passed through

there, everything was outwardly quiet, although murders of many persons whom the

bolsheviks disliked had already occurred.