Something of this Madame Virubova told me, and the rest a friend of the husband told me. In her story the husband appears as a jealous, unreasonable, bad tempered man, almost a lunatic. In her friend’s story he appears a martyr. “I have not had a very amusing life,” said Anna Virubova, in speaking of her marriage. She smiled, a little bitterly. “Perhaps that is one reason why I, like the Empress, was attracted to religion, why we both liked and trusted Rasputin. We did trust him, and to the end everything he did justified our confidence. As for the Empress’s feeling for him I give you my solemn word of honor it was solely that of a grateful mother, and a devout member of the Orthodox church.” And then she spoke the words with which I have opened this chapter. “Let any American mother imagine that she had an only son who had come into the world a weakling, one whose life had always hung on a thread, and that that child had suddenly and miraculously been restored to health. Let her suppose that the person who did this wonderful thing was not a doctor but a monk of her own church. Wouldn’t it be natural for that mother to regard the man with almost superstitious gratitude for the rest of her life? Wouldn’t it also be natural that she should want to keep the monk near her, at least until the child grew up, in order to have the benefit of his advice and help in case of return of the illness? Well, that is the whole truth about the Empress and Rasputin.” “But did Rasputin really heal the Czarevitch, and restore him to health?” I asked.