The Minister of Evil | Page 6

the hotel," the clerk said.
"She is evidently an aristocrat though she is only Madame Strepoff. I
have just sent their passports to the police."
The hour was immediately before dinner, therefore I lounged about the
entrance hall awaiting the appearance of the two travellers who, the
clerk had told me, had not ordered dinner in their rooms, so evidently
they intended to dine in the public restaurant.
Just after half-past seven they descended the broad staircase. There was
but little difference in their ages. In an instant I recognised the
handsome Empress by the many photographs I had seen. The other,
dark and also good-looking, was evidently a lady-in-waiting, a lady
whom I afterwards met at Court.
The pair, dressed inconspicuously in black, seated themselves at a little
table à deux in the window, while I followed, and having selected a
table opposite, ate my meal as I watched.
The Empress in incognita seemed in high spirits, perhaps because she

had 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 Zéneide
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 Stürmer 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 meals and always kept champagne for his friends, paid for out
of his collections for charity. In his inebriated state his wild-looking
eyes glowed like coals, and as he looked at me I experienced once more
the strange sensation of being enthralled. Truly, there was something
mesmeric about that gaze of his, a mystery that I have never solved.
A priest entered after I had been there a few minutes, and to him I
remarked that the Father being "rather unwell" I would return early
next day. He smiled meaningly, and I departed.
Having no knowledge of what hour the Empress intended to visit the
shrine of Our Lady, I was back again at the monastery at dawn when I
found the Starets had quite recovered. As soon as I told him of the
presence of the Tsaritza he bustled about, and in his oldest robe, rusty,
travel-worn and frayed, he accompanied me to the fine church of
Bogoroditsky.
It was then only seven o'clock, and we found the church with its many
candles and its much venerated shrine quite deserted save for one or
two peasant women who had halted to pray on their way to work.
Outside we stood together gazing down the long white road which led
from the direction of the Hotel Frantsiya.
"Alexandra Feodorovna must