“Ah ... it’s quite possible, Lili. I drove past you, and bowed to you many times, but you wouldn’t recognise me. Tell me in what I’ve offended you.” And he continued to tease me until I felt ready to die with confusion. He loved his wife: no one has ever dared dispute the quality of the affection which existed between them; theirs was an ideal love-marriage, and when their love was tried in the furnace of affliction it was not found wanting. Nicholas II had been reproached for his weakness of character, but this weakness was not weakness in the literal sense. The Empress, who was fully aware of what was said concerning the Emperor and herself, once told me how utterly people misunderstood her husband. “He is accused of weakness,” she said bitterly. “He is the strongest--not the weakest. I assure you, Lili, that it cost the Emperor a tremendous effort to subdue the attacks of rage to which the Romanoffs are subject. He has learnt the hard lesson of self-control, only to be called weak; people forget that the greatest conqueror is he who conquers himself.” On another occasion she remarked that she knew that the Emperor and herself were blamed for not surrounding themselves with genuine people. “It’s an extraordinary thing, Lili,” she said, “we’ve tried to find genuine advisers for the last twenty years, but we’ve never found them. I wonder whether any exist!” The Empress always resented the cruel slanders which were circulated about the Emperor. “I wonder they don’t accuse him of being too good: that, at least, would be true!” she cried. As for herself, she troubled little. “Why do people want to discuss me,” she said. “Why _can’t_ they leave me alone!” Again: “Why will people insist that I am pro-German? I have spent twenty years in Germany, and twenty years in Russia. My interests, and my son’s future lie in Russia: how, therefore, can I be anything but Russian?” The Empress has been censured for exerting undue influence over her husband, and this “pernicious” influence has made her the scapegoat for all the ills which have befallen Russia. But her “influence” was merely that of a good woman over a man. If she influenced the Emperor in any other way, it was done unconsciously. I will never believe otherwise, although, in making this assertion, I shall perhaps be confronted with all kinds of hostile criticism. It will be asked by what right I dare defend a woman who has been tried and found guilty. But I dare to do so. True, I am a person whose name is entirely unknown to the general public, but it cannot be disputed by those who knew life at Tsarkoe Selo and Petrograd that I was honoured by the Empress’s friendship and confidence.