actually moved, opened his amazed eyes, pressed his hand to his heart, and repeated the short and not quite common prayer word for word. I was really astonished!"
Another of my Russian friends, the well-known poet and critic, A. A. Izmailov, told me his own experience once.
"I succeeded with great difficulty in getting at Rasputin; I wanted to interview him, but I was careful to tell him through the servant that I wanted to speak to him about our mutual friends from the Volga. When I entered his room he was seated in a comfortable chair. He measured me with an inquiring eye and with a forbearing smile, said:
"'A journalist! Why do you try to deceive me?'
"He stopped short I kept silent, knowing his hatred of journalists, who had annoyed him much in the past. Besides, his words had embarrassed me strongly and I could not say anything.
"'I shall not talk about any of my affairs to you,' said Rasputin after a long while, 'but I want to speak of you. Death passed over your head when you were eleven years old. I can see it plainly. Tell me how it happened.'
"Of course" related Izmailov, "when I was eleven I went with my brother to try to shoot a hare. My brother was to do the shooting and I was to do the beating. I had scarcely entered the garden-bed when I tumbled over a root and fell to the ground. This
