"Well, the truth is that he said nothing," I replied, adding: "He was much occupied with other things."
"Ah! I must see him!" cried the frantic woman. "I was wrong to speak as I did. The Father is the great power in Russia. I must throw myself upon his mercy."
I promised to take her to him, and left her to inform Rasputin of the arrival of his expected visitor.
With an evil glint in those terrible eyes of his, he rubbed his hands together.
"Good, Féodor!" he said, striding across the room. "I will see the woman. Oh, yes, if she wishes to see me I will not deny her that pleasure," he added with biting sarcasm. Truly, he was weird and horrible in the hour of his triumph.
A few moments later I ushered the pale, wan woman in black into his presence.
"Holy Father!" she cried wildly, "forgive me—say that you forgive the unconsidered words of a weak and unworthy woman."
"Forgive—why?" he asked, standing erect and fingering his bejewelled cross. "I do not understand why I am honoured by this visit, madame."
"Ah! Of course you do not know. Pardon, I have forgotten to explain. My husband——" And she broke into tears. "My dear husband——"
"Well, what of your husband?" asked Rasputin. "He is at the front. Has he been wounded—or——"