CHAPTER I.
TIFLIS--BAKU.
"Ceci non!" A spacious apartment, its polished _parquet_ strewn with white bearskins and the thickest and softest of Persian rugs; its panelled walls hung with Oriental tapestries, costly daggers, pistols, and shields of barbaric, but beautiful, workmanship, glistening with gold and silver.

Every detail of the room denotes the artistic taste of the owner.

Inlaid tables and Japanese cabinets are littered with priceless porcelain and _cloisonne_, old silver, and diamond-set miniatures; the low divans are heaped with cushions of deep-tinted satin and gold; heavy violet plush curtains drape the windows; while huge palms, hothouse plants, and bunches of sweet-smelling Russian violets occupy every available nook and corner.

The pinewood fire flashes fitfully on a masterpiece of Vereschagin's, which stands on an easel by the hearth, and the massive gold "ikon," [A] encrusted with diamonds and precious stones, in the corner.

A large oil painting of his Majesty the Czar of Russia hangs over the marble chimneypiece.
It is growing dark.