“Your Majesty is probably aware of the terrible conditions in which our army finds itself placed in Persia at the present moment, and of the many illnesses and epidemics of all kinds that are raging there. To expose the Grand Duke to those dangers is simply compassing his ruin, because he can only come out of such a trial a physical and moral wreck, and surely the kind heart of Your Majesty will take pity on a youth for whom you have had some affection in the past, and in regard to whom you have always shown yourself a kind father. We pray to God to soften the feelings of Your Majesty, and to induce you to alter your decision, and to show some mercy to your own kinsman.” To this letter was received on the next day the following reply: “No one has the right to commit a murder. I am aware that many people are suffering now from qualms of conscience, because it is not only Dmitry Pavlovitsch who is mixed up in this business. I am surprised at your daring to address me in such terms. Nicholas.” The Grand Duke had to submit. He departed for the Persian front, accompanied by an officer who had received strict orders to oppose any attempt that he might feel tempted to make, in order to escape his doom. A curious incident, very characteristic of the state of mind prevailing in the capital at that time, then occurred. The comrades of this officer, upon hearing of his appointment, obliged him to resign his commission, considering that he had disgraced himself by accepting such a mission. In the meanwhile the body of Rasputin was taken at night to Tsarskoie Selo and buried in a small chapel which had been erected some years before by the Empress, quite close to the palace which she inhabited. Troops surrounded it so as to prevent any one getting near to it, whilst the ceremony lasted, and the funeral was attended by the Emperor, the Empress, and the intimate friend of the latter, Madame Vyroubieva. Alexandra Feodorovna used to go every afternoon to pray on the grave of the man whose influence had proved her bane, until at last the Revolution imprisoned her, and threw to the winds the ashes of the greatest enemy that the dynasty of the Romanoff’s had ever known. When the body was exhumed by the angry populace, one found on its breast a sacred image, bearing the names of the Empress, and of her three daughters, last memento of an affection which had proved so fatal to those who had nursed it.