Akilina recommenced her table-banging.
“If you leave Petrograd, Father, you’ll have bad luck—you are not to go.”
“Well—well—” said Rasputin helplessly, “perhaps thou art right. I shall stay.”
My efforts were unavailing. Rasputin could be as obstinate as a mule; and so, greatly distressed, I returned to the Palace. The Empress was very disappointed.
“I wonder why the Sister was so against my wishes,” she said.
Later on we understood. I think that, despite her plotting and contriving, Akilina really had some affection for Rasputin, and she was occasionally ashamed of her Judas-like rôle. I remember that once, when Rasputin left Petrograd on a visit to his family, I went to see him off, and there, naturally, I encountered Akilina. As the train steamed out of the station she burst into tears—genuine tears; I saw there was no hypocrisy in her grief. Although I disliked Akilina, I felt sorry for her.
“You’d better let me drive you home,” I said.
She accepted my offer, but in the car her tears recommenced.
“Whatever is the matter?” I enquired. “You’ll see the Father again.”
Akilina raised her tear-drenched eyes.