To Helidor--who afterwards revealed all he knew to the Revolutionary Party--the young Grand Duchess confessed her love for a certain very handsome officer, Nicholas Loutkievitch, of the Imperial Guard. She saw him often in the vicinity of the Palace, and also when she went to church, and he used to smile at her. "Holy Father," she said one clay to Helidor, "what can I do? I love him. But alas! love is forbidden to me--for I am an Imperial princess. It is my torment." Helidor had tried to console her by saying that she was young, and that she would love many times before she found the man who was to be her husband. It was surely not strange that the handsome young Grand Duchess should be attracted by a handsome man, for after all, even Imperial princesses are human. Helidor, who belonged to the Pravoslavny Church, under Bishop Teofan, saw Rasputin a few days later and incidentally mentioned the youthful infatuation of the young Princess. "Oh! I have already cured all that!" said the scoundrel with a laugh. "Her infatuation has been dispelled. I have cast the devil out of her." Then Rasputin boastingly disclosed to Helidor certain things which left no doubt in the latter's mind as to the true state of affairs existing at Tsarskoe-Selo, or the truth of what Madame Tutcheff had alleged. Indeed, among the filed pages of the _dossier_ which deal with this particular incident, is a letter which I venture here to reproduce. Rasputin, with all his mujik's shrewdness, preserved many letters written to him by women of all grades, hoping that when cast out of the Imperial circle he could use them for purposes of blackmail. Here is one of them: "Palace of Peterhof. "March 23rd, 1916. "Holy Father,--Dear true friend, we are all desolate without you. When are you returning from Pokrovsky? You promised to be here on the third, yet we have had no word from you. Dear true friend and father, how is Matroysha (Rasputin's peasant wife)--and the children? Give my love to them. Tatiana and I are sending them some things by the courier to-day. Each time we go to Anna's (Madame Vyrubova) all is but blank despair. We miss our sweet and helpful reunions, and long always for your return. You, my holy Father, are my inestimable friend. I no longer think of Nicholas, but of you alone, and of our holy religion. My mother is desolate without you. Pray for me. I kiss your dear hands. Your loving daughter, Olga." I copy this from the great mass of papers before me--the documentary evidence of the tragic story of the downfall of the great Imperial House of Romanoff--in order that the reader may be able to form some slight idea of the marvellous, almost incredible grip which Germany had upon the Tsar's family, his household and his nation through the medium of the verminous peasant who had declared himself a Heaven-sent apostle of God.