escaped from the Imperial Court. She chatted confidentially with her
companion, and more than once cast an inquiring glance in my direction,
as though wondering whether I were not an agent of the Okhrana, the
ubiquitous secret police of the Empire. It is only too true that wherever
one goes in Russia one is "shadowed" by the police, and Her Majesty knew
full well that the bureau of "personal police" at Tsarskoe-Selo would
know that she had left the palace and would keep an eye upon her, because
just about that period the air was full of plots against the dynasty.

The Empress and her bosom friend Mademoiselle Zeneide Kamensky--whom I
afterwards knew her to be--finished their meal unrecognised by the
servants, or any of those in the restaurant, and then returned to their
rooms. Afterwards I took a droshky up to the Preobrazhensky Monastery,
which I reached about ten o'clock. The old monk who answered my ring at
the barred door returned with a message from Rasputin to the effect that
I was to tell him the object of my visit. This I refused to do, and
became insistent upon seeing him. Such hesitation on Rasputin's part
greatly surprised me. Indeed, it was not before nearly half an hour had
elapsed that the long-bearded old janitor unwillingly conducted me
through the long, bare corridors of the monastery where my footsteps on
the flags awakened the echoes, and after several turns ushered me into a
small, well-furnished room, wherein, in an armchair before the stove, sat
the charlatan who was posing as the Saviour of Russia.

In an instant I realised that he was in an advanced state of
intoxication. As I entered he rose unsteadily, and addressing me declared
that life in the Spasso-Preobrazhensky was most pleasant, and at once
began singing a ribald song.

I stood aghast. This was the man who, by the scheming of Stuermer and his
catspaw, was to be introduced to the Imperial Court! So fuddled was he by
vodka that he was unable to understand the purport of my visit. He merely
laughed inanely and began to repeat parrot-like those curious prayers
which he recited at the weekly reunions of the sister-disciples--passages
culled haphazard from Holy Writ, interspersed with the most obscene and
ribald allegations, a jumble of piety and blasphemy that none could ever
understand.

Soon I realised the hopelessness of the situation. This was the first I
knew that the "saint" was addicted to alcohol, although he drank wine
freely at m