I promised to do her bidding, and, retiring, at once left the palace, and at midnight was on my way back to the far-off town on the Kama.
On the evening of the following day I drove up to the monastery and there found Rasputin at dinner with the ex-conjurer Rouchine. When I entered the cosy little room in which the pair were seated, Rasputin had removed his long robe and was seated in his shirt-sleeves like the peasant he was. I handed him the letter from the German-born Empress, whereupon he said:
"Oh! read it to me, Féodor. The woman's handwriting is always a puzzle to me."
I knew how illiterate he was and the reason of his excuse.
I tore open the envelope and quickly scanned the scribbled lines.
"No," I replied, "not now, Gregory; later."
"But I insist!" cried the Starets fiercely.
"And I refuse!" was my determined reply. "I have reasons."
Those last three words were not lost upon him, for Grichka was nothing if not the very acme of shrewdness. Not an adventurer or escroc in Europe could compare with him in elusiveness.
"Well, Féodor, if you have reasons, then I know that they are sound ones," he said. Then, turning to the "holy" conjurer, he grinned and said: "Féodor is a most excellent secretary. So discreet—too discreet, I often think."