“We have heard nothing....”
“Oh, but I assure you it’s correct.”
The police opened the shutters, then the windows ... outside all was still with the intense stillness of a winter’s night. The officers made no comment, and closed the windows.
“Madame has perhaps been dreaming,” said one, sympathetically. “She has had much to try her nerves.”
But I knew differently. I had certainly experienced much to try my nerves, but what I heard was neither a nightmare nor a delusion. When I re-entered the sombre bedroom, with its fallen ikon and its fallen saint, I shuddered, for, although I knew it not, the veil had been lifted, and I had heard the fast approaching footsteps of Revolution and murder.
I was an early arrival at the Palace, but the Empress was already up and she greeted me most affectionately. She told me that M. Protopopoff had strongly urged her to receive no one: there was evidence of a plot to murder her, and, for the first time, she seemed to feel some misgivings concerning the fate of Rasputin. She manifested no anxiety about her own danger; she was utterly serene and fearless: I was so struck by this that I could not help saying:
“Oh, Madame, you don’t seem afraid to die. I always dread death—I’m a horrible coward.”
The Empress looked at me in astonishment.
“Surely, Lili, you are not really afraid to die?”
“Yes, Madame, I am.”