The next thing we heard was that the Duma had sent two delegates to confer with the Czar; we hoped that from this conference something good might result, and that Nicholas II. would be induced to call together a responsible ministry. The Empress herself was persuaded he would do so, and remarked that if Prince Lvoff accepted the position of Premier, things would not be so bad, because at heart he was a loyal monarchist and would not lend himself to any aggression against the person of his Sovereign. She seemed more cheerful than she had been for the last two or three days, and showed herself pleased that it was Mr. Gutchkoff, whom she knew personally and had always liked, who had been despatched to Pskoff. “Perhaps, after all, we shall weather this storm,” she remarked, and she further observed that in the grave circumstances which resulted from the unfavourable course the war had taken, it was perhaps just as well if the sole responsibility for what was to follow did not rest upon the Sovereign alone. Neither she nor any of us had the faintest idea of what was actually taking place at Pskoff. About midnight I left the Empress. She had been persuaded to retire to bed, the Princess Dondoukoff having promised to watch by the children and to call her at once should any change take place in their condition. She was thoroughly exhausted and we were all glad to see her at last take some rest, I had lain down also in a room adjoining the bedchamber of my mistress when at about three o’clock in the morning I was awakened by a soft knock at my door. Thinking that one of the children was worse, I got up instantly and went to hear what had happened before disturbing the Empress. Standing on the threshold I found the Czarina’s old groom of the chamber with a pale and frightened countenance. He pulled me aside and in a terrified voice exclaimed: “Something dreadful has happened: the Emperor has abdicated!” “What?” I exclaimed, not believing my ears, and inclined to think that the man had gone mad. “The Emperor has abdicated,” he repeated, and forthwith began to sob. I dropped down in a chair, and thought that the end of the world had come, and so indeed it had—of a certain world at least. “Who told you?” I enquired. “How did you come to hear it?” The man replied that the new ministry had advised the commander of the town of Czarskoi Selo by telephone that the Czar had abdicated in favour of his brother, and that the troops had to be advised of the fact immediately. “How shall we tell the Empress?” was my first thought.