However, I ’phoned to the Palace of the Grand Duke, and, in the name of the Empress, I asked him to come to Tsarkoe Selo. His son answered the ’phone, and rather brusquely demanded to know who on all the earth was speaking. “Lili Dehn,” I said. His “_Oh!_” was more eloquent than words! During the afternoon the Empress called me into her boudoir. “Lili,” she said, “they say that a hostile crowd of 300,000 persons is marching on the Palace. We shall not be, we _must_ not be afraid. Everything is in the hands of God. To-morrow the Emperor is sure to come.... I _know_ that, when he does, all will be well.” She then asked me to ’phone to Petrograd, and get in touch with my aunt, Countess Pilar, and other friends. I ’phoned to several, but the news grew worse and worse. At last I ’phoned to my flat. The Emperor’s A.D.C., Sablin, who lived in the same building, answered my ring. I begged him to take care of Titi, and, if it were possible, to join us at Tsarkoe, as the Imperial Family needed protection; but he replied that a ring of flames practically surrounded the building, which was well watched by hostile sailors. He managed, however, to bring Titi to the ’phone--and my heart ached when I heard my child’s anxious voice: “Mamma, when are you coming back?” “Darling, I’ll come very soon.” “Oh, _please_ come; it’s so dreadful here.” I felt torn between love and duty, but I had long since decided where my duty lay. I told the Empress what Sablin had reported; she listened in silence, and then, by some tremendous effort of will, she regained her usual composure. Her strength strengthened me. We had, indeed, every need for courage. The poor “children” were lying desperately ill.... They looked almost like corpses.... Anna was in high fever, the Palace was terror-stricken, and outside brooded the dread spectre of Revolution! All at once the Empress was seized with an idea to talk to the soldiers. I begged to accompany her, in case of any unforeseen treachery, but she refused. “Why, Lili,” she said, reproachfully, “they’re all friends!” Marie and Anastasie went with her, and I watched them from a window. It was quite dark, and the great courtyard was illuminated with what appeared to be exceptionally powerful electric lights. The distant sound of guns was audible ... the night was bitterly cold. From where I stood, I could see the Empress, wrapped in furs, walking from one man to another, utterly fearless of her safety. She was the calm, dignified Tsaritsa--the typical consort of the Tsar of all the Russias. Here was no hysterical religious maniac, no abandoned heroine of the novel! The Empress moved in this tragic _mise en scène_, protected by her own goodness; but, when the light fell on her fair, pale face, I trembled. I knew her weak heart, her delicacy of physique--suppose she were to faint?