“Thou canst see, they are losing no time to obey me. Thou dost not know what women are, and how they like to be handled. Wait, and thou shalt see something better. Avdotia,” he called again. “Is Marie Ivanovna here?” he asked, when she came in response to his call. “Yes, since three hours,” was the reply. “Call her here.” A young woman of about twenty-five years of age appeared. She was very well dressed in rich furs, and ran up to Rasputin, kneeling before him, and kissing with fervour his dirty hands. “How long hast thou been here?” he asked. “About three hours, Batiouschka,” she answered. “This is well, thou art to remain here until midnight, and neither to eat or to drink all that time, thou hearest?” “Yes, Batiouschka,” was the reply, uttered in timid, frightened tones. “Now go into the next room, kneel down before the Ikon, and wait for me without moving. Thou must not move until I come.” She kissed his hands once more, prostrated herself on the floor before him three times in succession, and then retired with the look of being in a kind of trance during which she could neither know nor understand what was happening to her. “If thou carest, thou canst follow her, and see whether she obeys me or not,” said Rasputin in his usual dry tone. I declined the invitation, protesting that I had never doubted but that the “Prophet” would be obeyed, adding, however, that though I had understood he could control the fancies and imagination of women gifted with an exalted temperament, yet I was not convinced that his influence could be exerted over unemotional men, and that this was the one point which interested my friends. “Thou must not be curious,” shouted Rasputin. “I am not here to tell thee the reasons for what I choose to do. It should suffice thee to know that I would at once return to Pokrovskoie if ever I thought my services were useless to my country. Russia is governed by fools. Yes, they are all of them fools, these pigs and children of pigs,” he repeated with insistence. “But I am not a fool. I know what I want, and if I try to save my country, who can blame me for it?” “But Gregory Efimitsch,” I insisted, “can you not tell me at least whether it is true that some ministers do all that you tell them?” “Of course, they do,” he replied angrily. “They know very well their chairs would not hold them long if they didn’t. Thou shalt yet see some surprises before thou diest, daughter,” he concluded with a certain melancholy in his accents. Avdotia entered the room again. “Gregory Efimitsch,” she said, “there is Father John of Ladoga waiting for you.” “Ah! I had forgotten him.” Then he turned toward me.