At eleven o'clock Nikolay Vasilievich* proposed that I should go with him to a rehearsal of Boris Godunov at the Drury Lane Theatre (I kept stumbling over the pronunciation of this word when I first started to say it). The theatre itself is not much to write home about, although the orchestra was wonderful. I sat in the auditorium listening to Boris with the greatest enjoyment. Around me the Russian chorus members recounted to each other the vicissitudes of finding accommodation in London, and the peculiarities of the places they eventually ended up in.