In the course of the afternoon a servant informed us that an officer of one of the Tartar regiments begged the Empress to receive him. The Empress asked me to interview him, as she felt too ill to do so, and accordingly I went over to the fourth wing of the Palace, where the officer was waiting. As I traversed the long corridors, I heard the sound of rough voices. I stopped, terrified, at the entrance of one of the salons--the Mixed Guards were just about to change the guard; but “changing the guard” was no longer the decorous proceeding of yester-year! When the fresh detachment entered the salon, they threw themselves literally into the arms of the other soldiers, shouting, “New-born citizens of freedom, we congratulate you.” I passed the “new-born citizens of freedom,” and I found Lieutenant Markoff, to whom I explained the reason of my “deputising.” The poor boy had been wounded, he could scarcely stand; but his spirit was unconquerable. “Madame,” he said, “I’ve fought my way through the mob in order to see the Empress, and assure her of my devotion. The assassins wanted to tear off my epaulettes with HER cypher. I told them that the Empress had given them to me, and that it was her right alone to deprive me of them. I’ve arrived here at last.... I entreat you to ask the Empress to allow me to remain somewhere near her.... I don’t care if I wash up the dirty plates. I’ll do anything--only let me stay!” I promised Markoff to deliver his message, and on my way back I heard the soldiers laughing and singing. Sick at heart, and utterly disgusted at their behaviour, I reported it to the Empress. “_Les malheureux_,” she said, “_ce n’est pas leur faute, c’est la faute à ceux qui les trompent_.” She granted poor young Markoff’s request, and told me to see General Resin, and arrange for Markoff to be included in his detachment. I suppose the first idea of most people in the position of the Empress, faced with hurried flight, would have been to save their jewels. But jewels were a secondary consideration with the Empress; her chief treasures were those of sentiment, and, as I watched her collecting her favourite books and photographs, I thought that in this instance, as in all others, she was more of the woman than the Empress. And the idea of leaving the scene of many of her happiest associations must have been heart-rending to her. She had transformed the Palace into a home; here she had watched the beautiful growth of her four fair daughters and her adored son. And here she was destined to drink the uttermost dregs of the Cup of Sorrow.