“Please, please bring him to the ‘phone.’” I waited impatiently, and then a little feeble voice whispered: “Maman ... c’est vraiment toi! quand viendras-tu?”
At that moment a soldier interposed.
“Your five minutes is up!”
I returned to the Empress, almost heart-broken, but I endeavoured to appear cheerful. The interminable day wore away, evening fell, and I assisted at what had now become a sort of nightly routine. Every evening the Emperor wheeled the Empress in her invalid-chair across the Palace in order to visit the suite. It was a melancholy pilgrimage. She first stopped to talk with the Benckendorffs, and afterwards passed from group to group of her faithful adherents, taking Anna’s room on the way back—Anna, so to speak, representing the last word in dejection, as she was ever full of terrors and presentiments.
That night I was glad to seek refuge in the red drawing-room and find myself alone, and able to indulge in what is described as “a good cry.” As I left the mauve boudoir, the Emperor and the Empress kissed me, and made the Sign of the Cross. I felt instinctively that they loved me, and were sorry for me.
A bright fire was burning in the red drawing-room, but I did not undress—I sat in front of the fire thinking of Titi. Yet even the knowledge that my son was seriously ill did not suffice to make me feel that my place was not here. I knew in my soul that the Empress came first, and would always be first where my duty was in question. I was well aware that I might never see my husband or my child again ... but I knew that I should follow the Imperial Family wherever Destiny might beckon me. I confess I had my moments of weakness, when I longed for the security of home, and the peaceful existence which had hitherto been mine. To-night I felt more than usually despondent. The fire burnt low, and I sought to read the future in the red embers, just as I had done at Revovka in the long ago. Suddenly I heard the door of the salon open very softly, and a line of light pierced the darkness ... someone was coming in!
I turned quickly to face the person who dared intrude upon the privacy of the apartments occupied by the Imperial Family.... Was it some fresh assumption of power on the part of the Revolutionaries?
But my visitor was no emissary of the Revolution—the slender figure standing in the doorway was that of the Empress. She looked more than usually fragile ... she breathed with difficulty, her face was pale with fatigue, and, when I remembered the arduous ascent of the stairs, I was terrified lest a heart attack would ensue.
“Madame, Madame,” I cried, “is anything amiss? Are you in danger?”
“Hush, Lili,” said the Empress. “The Emperor and I are quite safe. But I couldn’t rest without coming to see you. I know all about Titi, I quite realise what you feel.” She took me in her arms just as a tender mother might have done, and she soothed me and caressed me. “My poor, dear child,” she said. “Only God can help you. Trust in Him, as I do, Lili.”