My feelings are better imagined than described. I sprang up, and made the Sign of the Cross, and my hand sought the beloved medal hidden in my dress. So I was really free! I could hardly believe it, surely I could not have heard aright! The A.D.C. told me to put on my hat and cloak and follow him.... Before I did so he asked me to sign a paper agreeing not to leave Petrograd, and to hold myself in readiness to be interrogated. I did so; then, picking up my suit-case, I went downstairs. He left me in the hall. I had now apparently lost all interest for him, as he did not trouble to bid me farewell.... He merely pointed out the door, and disappeared. I looked round, hardly daring to move. I was not able to realize that I was free to go when, and where, I chose. I pushed open the heavy door, and found myself in the cold and darkness outside. Not a single fiacre was in sight; I felt too exhausted to move, but I made a supreme effort to walk.... Impossible! My feet slipped in all directions in the melted snow and slush of the road. Suddenly I noticed a man who was regarding me with evident curiosity.... My heart sank. What if this scrutiny meant that I was about to be rearrested? The man made his way to where I was standing. “Are you Madame Dehn?” he enquired civilly. “I am.” “I thought I recognised you, Madame. I’ve been at your house several times. I was formerly Madame Kazarinoff’s footman. Poor, poor Madame, who would have believed this could happen to you. Let me help you. I know where I can find a fiacre.” He presently returned with a fiacre, and assisted me to get in with all the courtesy and deference of a well-trained servant. I thanked him many times.... He gave the direction to the driver, and we drove away. It was one in the morning before I arrived home. I rang the bell, and after some delay the door was opened by my maid ... who nearly fainted when she saw me.... I couldn’t speak. My thoughts were concentrated on Titi.... I ran past her upstairs to his room.... It was empty! What had happened--could he be dead? I hurried across the landing to my bedroom.... A light was burning.... Someone was in bed.... Thank God, I recognised the beloved dark head of my boy--he was safe. I fell on my knees beside him. With a little start, and a smile, which was like balm to my yearning heart, Titi awoke.... “Mother, mother....” He flung his arms round me. I covered his face with kisses. “Where have you come from?” he enquired. “From prison.” The child began to cry. I realized the tactlessness of my reply. “If they ever take you away again I’ll go too,” he sobbed. “But where’s ‘Aunt Baby’? What has happened to her? And where is Papa? They say he’s been killed.”[16] “Darling, darling, I can tell you nothing about Papa.”