I should have preferred to confine my book to events in which I have taken a direct part and give personal evidence only. But if I did so my story could not be clear. In the present chapter I am compelled once more to depart from the rule I wished to lay down for myself. If the reader is to understand me, it is essential for me to give certain details about the life and beginnings of Rasputin and to try and disentangle from the legends innumerable of which he is the subject such facts as seem to me part of history. About one hundred and fifty versts south of Tobolsk the little village of Pokrovskoïe lies lost in the marshes on the banks of the Tobol. There Grigory Rasputin was born. His father’s name was Efim. Like many other Russian peasants at that time, the latter had no family name. The inhabitants of the village, of which he was not a native, had given him on his arrival the name of Novy (the Newcomer). His son Grigory had the same kind of youth as all the small peasantry of that part of Siberia, where the poor quality of the soil often compels them to live by expedients. Like them, he robbed and stole.... He soon made his mark, however, by the audacity he showed in his exploits, and it was not long before his misdoings earned him the reputation of an unbridled libertine. He was now known solely as Rasputin, a corruption of the word _rasputnik_ (debauched), which was destined to become, as it were, his family name. The villagers of Siberia were in the habit of hiring out horses to travellers passing through the country and offering their services as guides and coachmen. One day Rasputin happened to conduct a priest to the monastery of Verkhoturie. The priest entered into conversation with him, was struck by his quick natural gifts, led him by his questions to confess his riotous life, and exhorted him to consecrate to the service of God the vitality he was putting to such bad uses. The exhortation produced so great an impression on Grigory that he seemed willing to give up his life of robbery and licence. He stayed for a considerable time at the monastery of Verkhoturie and began to frequent the holy places of the neighbourhood. When he went back to his village he seemed a changed man, and the inhabitants could hardly recognise the reprobate hero of so many scandalous adventures in this man whose countenance was so grave and whose dress so austere. He was seen going from village to village, spreading the good word and reciting to all and sundry willing to listen long passages from the sacred books, which he knew by heart. Public credulity, which he already exploited extremely skilfully, was not slow in regarding him as a prophet, a being endowed with supernatural powers, and in particular the power of performing miracles. To understand this rapid transformation [Illustration: Si vous avez le second volume de “Notre Dame de Paris” envoyez le moi je vous en prie. Olga Romanoff 13. May 1914.