As I did not in the least feel inclined to take his remains, I declined the tempting offer, which made him draw together his black and bushy eyebrows with the remark:
“Better persons than thou art have drunk out of this saucer, but if thou wantest to make a fuss it is no concern of mine.”
And then he called out, “Avdotia! Avdotia!” The elderly woman who had opened the door for me hastened to come into the room.
“There,” said Rasputin, “this person”—-pointing toward me with his forefinger—“this person refuses to drink out of the cup of life; take it thou instead.”
The woman instantly dropped on her knees and Rasputin proceeded to open her mouth with his fingers and pour down her throat the tea which I had disdained. She then prostrated herself on the ground before him and reverently kissed his feet, remaining in this attitude until he pushed her aside with his heavy boot and said, “There, now thou canst go.”
Then he turned to me once more. “Great ladies, some of the greatest in the land, are but too happy to do as this woman has done,” he said dryly. “Remember that, daughter.”
Then he proceeded at once with the question, “Thou hast wished to see me. What can I do for thee? I am but a poor and humble man, the servant of the Lord, but sometimes it has been my fate to do some good for others. What dost thou require of me?”
I proceeded to explain that I wanted nothing in the matter of worldly goods, but asked this singular personage to be kind enough to tell me for the paper which I represented whether it was true that but for him Russia would have declared war upon Austria the year before.
Photograph, International Film Service, Inc.