"And pray, Trewinnard, why are you so extremely desirous of following
this woman into exile and speaking with her?" inquired the Emperor in
French, as I sat with him, a week later, in a small, dismal, tapestried
room in the old Castle of Berezov, the Imperial hunting-box on the edge
of the Pinsk Marshes, in the Government of Minsk.
Dressed in a rough shooting-suit of drab Scotch tweed, he sat upon the
edge of the table smoking a cigarette after a hard day after wild boar.
I had driven since dawn from the wayside station of Olevsk, three
hundred miles south of Moscow, where I had arrived tired and famished
from my long night and day journey of a week from Brighton.
On arrival in Moscow I had learnt that His Majesty was hunting at
Berezov, and a telegram prefixed by the word "Bathildis," had at once
been replied to by a command to audience. Hence I was there, and had
placed my appeal before him.
He was much puzzled. In his eyes Madame de Rosen was a dangerous
revolutionist who had conspired to kill him, therefore he regarded with
entire disfavour my petition to be allowed to see her. There was
annoyance written upon his strong features, and by the expression in his
eyes I saw that he was entirely averse to granting my request.
"I am anxious, Sire, to see her upon a purely private matter. She was a
personal friend," I replied.
"So you told me some time ago, I recollect," he remarked, twisting his
cigarette between his fingers. "But Markoff has reported that both she
and her daughter are highly dangerous to the security of the State. He
was speaking of them only the other day."