..One day aunt Agn. Fed. Hartman (mom's sister) asked me if I wanted to see Rasputin closer.........Having received the address on Pushkinskaya St., on the appointed day and hour I came to the apartment of Maria Alexandrovna Nikitina, an aunt's friend. When I entered the small dining room, I found everyone already assembled. 6-7 young interesting ladies were sitting at an oval table set for tea. I knew two of them by sight (we met in the halls of the Winter Palace, where Alexandra Fedorovna organized the sewing of linen for the wounded). They were all of the same circle and were talking animatedly among themselves in low voices. After making a general bow in English, I sat down next to the hostess at the samovar and talked with her.

Suddenly there was a sort of general sigh—Ah! I looked up and saw in the doorway, located in the opposite direction from where I entered, a mighty figure — first impression — a ♥♥♥♥♥. Russian Russian shirt with embroidery on the collar and clasp, a twisted belt with tassels, black trousers and Russian boots clung to a tall, powerful figure. But there was nothing Russian about him. Thick black hair, a big black beard, a swarthy face with predatory nostrils of the nose and some kind of ironically mocking smile on his lips - a face, of course, spectacular, but somehow unpleasant. The first thing that attracted attention was his eyes: black, incandescent, they burned, piercing through, and his gaze on you felt just physically, it was impossible to remain calm. It seems to me that he really had a hypnotic power, subjugating himself when he wanted to. …

Everyone here was familiar to him, vying to please, to attract attention. He sat down at the table with a swagger, addressed everyone by name and by "you", spoke catchily, sometimes vulgarly and rudely, called to him, put him on his knees, felt, stroked, patted on soft places and all the "happy ones" were delirious with pleasure! It was disgusting and insulting to look at it for women who were humiliated, who had lost both their feminine dignity and family honor. I felt the blood rush to my face, I wanted to scream, punch, do something. I was sitting almost opposite the "high guest", he felt my condition perfectly and, laughing mockingly, stubbornly stuck his eyes into me every time after another attack. I was a new object unknown to him. …

Cheekily addressing someone present, he said: "Do you see? Who embroidered the shirt? Sashka!" (meaning the Empress Alexandra Feodorovna). No decent man would ever betray the secrets of a woman's feelings. My eyes were getting dark from the strain, and Rasputin's gaze was unbearably boring and boring. I moved closer to the hostess, trying to hide behind the samovar. Maria Alexandrovna looked at me anxiously. …

"Masha," a voice rang out, "do you want some jam? Come to me." Masha hurriedly jumps up and hurries to the place of the call. Rasputin crosses his legs, takes a spoonful of jam and knocks it over on the toe of his boot. "Lick" — the voice sounds imperiously, she kneels down and, bending her head, licks the jam ... I couldn't stand it anymore. Squeezing the hostess's hand, she jumped up and ran out into the hallway. I don't remember how I put on my hat, how I ran along Nevsky. I came to my senses at the Admiralty, I had to go home to Petrogradskaya. She roared half the night and asked me never to ask me what I had seen, and I myself did not remember this hour with my mother or aunt, nor did I see Maria Alexandrovna Nikitina. Since then, I could not calmly hear Rasputin's name and lost all respect for our "secular" ladies. Once, while visiting De Lazari, I answered the phone and heard the voice of this scoundrel. But I immediately said that I know who is talking, and therefore I do not want to talk…