A terrible crime has just been committed at St. Petersburg. On the first of March our beloved Emperor, Alexander II., was murdered by the anarchists. This noblest of men has been killed by a bomb in the streets whilst returning from a visit to the Duchess of Oldenbourg. That day we went to a concert given by Marcella Sembrich, the celebrated opera singer. In the middle of the performance an officer came up to say that the Governor-General of Moscow, Prince Dolgorouki, wished to see my husband at once. Something serious must have happened, otherwise the Prince would not have disturbed Sergy who promised to be back soon. But I returned home immediately and would not go to bed before Sergy’s return. I became very anxious at his prolonged absence and couldn’t imagine what was keeping him so long. Eleven o’clock arrived and he had not yet returned. I could not help being very much alarmed, and as the minutes passed, I listened more and more anxiously for the sound of hoofs on the pavement, but still there was no sign of my husband. It was long past midnight when he came home in a great state of excitement, bringing the awful news of the murder of our Tzar. A bomb had been flung at his carriage, the back of which was torn away. His Majesty, luckily, was not hurt, but two Cossacks of his escort, and a boy who was passing in the street at that moment, were severely injured. The Tzar insisted upon seeing the wounded and approached the victims, when a second bomb was flung at him which tore off one of his legs and shattered the other. General Grösser, the Prefect of the Police, who always accompanied the Emperor wherever he went, had him lifted up into his sledge and transported His Majesty in that desperate state to the Winter Palace, where he passed away some minutes after. The tragic death of Alexander II. filled the world with horror. The inhabitants of Moscow were thrilled by the news of that terrible event; the streets are black with people in mourning, the bells in all the churches are tolling all day long.