The Provisional Government was in power. At its head was Alexander Kerensky, the young man. He and Katherine Breshkovskaya, the old, old woman, in spite of the fact that the forced offensive on the southwest front in July had weakened both, were at this time still the mouth-pieces of the majority. They were the only government there was. The Mission invested its energies in trying to help the government in its difficult problems of administration. Unfortunately, most of the other Allied representatives failed to share their opinion, or the results might have been different. Suddenly Riga fell. The news of its actual occupation surprised no one. It had long been conceded in Petrograd that the Germans could take it whenever they chose. From the military standpoint, it had little significance. It was chiefly useful to the German militarists as a scalp to dangle before the war-weary section of their own populace. The Russian advocates of a dictator seized upon it as a weapon with which to attack Kerensky. They blamed the leniency of the Kerensky policy and the breakdown of the army for the fall of Riga. There were charges and counter-charges. The soldiers vehemently denounced their officers, accusing them of betraying the city to the Germans. One regiment of Lettish troops had refused to retreat when ordered, and fought until they were wiped out almost to a man. Most of them were Bolsheviki, and they asserted that their officers were selling Riga to defeat their Revolution. The Germans were reported marching on Petrograd. Refugees fleeing from Riga poured into the city. There was not a spare room anywhere. Almost as many people were trying to get out of the city as were trying to get in. They stood in queues before the railway offices all day and all night, trying to buy tickets that would take them anywhere beyond the reach of the Germans. The anniversary of the sixth month of Russian freedom was at hand. Petrograd, ready at all times to expect the worst, believed there would be some tragic celebration of the day. Part of it trembled in its boots for fear of a Bolshevik uprising; more of it predicted a German air raid; some of it longingly scanned the horizon for a Russian Napoleon. Nobody was prepared for what happened, and everybody was still more amazed by what did not happen. When the official announcement was made, “the Korniloff adventure has been liquidated,” the populace was still gasping.