IFE began late at the Wandering Dog, so we went first to a perL formance at the Mikhailovsky Theatre. I cannot recall what the play was but retain the association in my mind of the Mikhailovsky with the urbanities of Moliere; probably the play was his. Anyway it was the Mikhailovsky with its atmosphere of warmth and expectancy, its brilliant audience, and its martinet-trained flunkies, one outside or inside every door. That, however, faded with the later impressions of the night. From the theater a few short steps took us to the entrance of the Wandering Dog, the entrance to a sort of cellar below the cold and slush of the square. My first look disclosed a long dim hall on both sides of which were improvised coat rooms and laughing check girls trying to bring order out of chaos. It was cluttered with wet fur coats lying on the floor. People were everywhere, choking the entrance, good-humoredly chatting, jostling one another, squatting on the heaps of furs, but more generally active in attempts to penetrate the inner rooms. They seemed an oddly assorted lot. Philistines were few, for the management discouraged them, and if any such appeared they never got to the center of interest nor probably ever tried again. This Bohemian sea coast had a snobbery of its own. I believe that no high entrance fee or cover charge was asked but would have been paid gaily had it been demanded. Financial gain was the least thing in mind. At that place and time, there were eager patrons to support readily and sometimes extravagantly such an enterprise. Cultivated enjoyment was their sole aim. Behind us the door opened to admit a gust of fresh cold air and the figure of a woman wrapped in furs, from which rose a head of great serious beauty. There was a gasp of appreciation for the unique quality of Karsavina. There was perhaps also a touch of anticipation, for it was known that sometimes she danced here superbly costumed, on magnificent rugs loaned by collectors for the occasion, but that was for a small company of invited guests and not for an ordinary evening like this. A slight, agile man of about forty emerged from the inside room and stood beside the crazed mirror which partly reflected but more distorted the lively movements of the crowd. He was informally