She uttered a terrible cry and fell on her knees in prayer; not even the doctor dared to approach the body, for she had made a sign to all around not to disturb her. Then, some minutes later, she rose in a calmer state of mind, closed the emperor's eyes, which had remained open, tied a handkerchief round his head to prevent his jaws from dropping, kissed his hands already as cold as ice, and, again falling on her knees, she remained in prayer by the bedside until the doctors were obliged to ask her to withdraw into another room, while they made a post-mortem examination.
Whilst this sad operation proceeded, the widowed empress wrote to the dowager-empress:—
"Our angel is in heaven, while I still linger on earth.... Alas! who would ever have thought that I, weak and ill as I am, should have survived him?... Mother, I entreat you not to desert me, for I am absolutely alone in this world of sorrow!
"The face of our beloved dead has resumed its expression of gentle kindliness; the smile upon it assures me that he is happy, and that his eyes see better things than here below.... My only comfort in this irreparable loss is that I shall not long survive him!..."
And, indeed, the empress died six months later.
The letter was sent off by courier to St. Petersburg, where the emperor's illness was already known. He had himself written, on 17 November, to say that he had had to return to Taganrog on account of illness. On the 24th, the Empress Elisabeth had written to the Grand-Duchess Helena asking her to inform the Empress Marie that the emperor was going on well. On the 27th, however, General Diebitch had sent news that the emperor was suffering from an attack of yellow fever; and on 29 November the Empress Elisabeth again wrote to the dowager-empress to tell her of a temporary improvement in the emperor's condition. Although this improvement was so slight, the dowager-empress and the Grand-Dukes Nicolas and Michel gave orders for a Te Deum to be sung on 9 December in the great metropolitan cathedral of Kasan. The people flocked there joyfully, for the good news had been exaggerated for their sake. Towards the close of the service the Grand-Duke Nicolas was advised that a messenger from Taganrog was waiting for him in the sacristy; he was the bearer of a despatch that had to be delivered only in person. The grand-duke rose and went into the sacristy, where he found the messenger, and received from his hands the letter we have already read. He did not even need to read the letter: its contents were revealed to him by the black seal.
The Grand-Duke Nicolas sent for the metropolitan and announced to him the melancholy tidings, charging him to break the news as gently as possible to the dowager-empress, as he felt he had not the courage to fulfil the cruel mission himself. He then returned and took his place by her who, in ignorance of the sad truth, was praying for the life of her dead son. The grand-duke had scarcely resumed his position by her side before the metropolitan re-entered the choir. He was a fine-looking old man, with a long white beard and hair that fell almost to his waist. At a sign from him, all the voices that were chanting hymns of thankful praise to Heaven ceased, and a death-like silence followed. Then, with the eyes of all upon him, he walked slowly and solemnly towards the altar, took down the massive silver crucifix and draped it with a black veil; then he advanced to the dowager-empress and gave her the black draped crucifix to kiss.
"My son is dead!" cried the empress; and she fell on her knees, even as, eighteen centuries before, at the foot of her Son's Cross, another Mother, the Queen of Heaven, whose name she bore, had fallen.
And in that way Russia learnt she had lost her emperor.
We promised we would relate the history of the strange self-sacrifice by which a man gave up an empire—a history all the more strange in that the empire was an absolute monarchy, and that he would then have succeeded to fifty-three millions of subjects, and to a territory which already covered a seventh part of the world, without reckoning future possibilities of expansion. This history is as follows:—