At 10 o’clock in the evening we arrived. The train stopped. We went onto the platform. Bluish lanterns illuminated the rails. A few tracks down stood an illuminated train… We entered the railway carriage. It was a big dining carriage. Green silk on the walls. Several tables. The Emperor appeared in the doorway. He greeted us with an outstretched hand. Guchkov began to speak. He was very worried. See more

Guchvok spoke about what was happening in Petrograd. The Emperor looked straight ahead, calmly, completely impenetrable. The only thing that, it seemed to me, could be read from his face was: “This long speech is superfluous…”. The Emperor answered. After the worried words of A.I. his voice sounded calm, simple and precise. Only the accent was a bit alien - guards-like:“I decided to abdicate. Until three o’clock I thought I could abdicate in favour of my son, Alexei. But by this time I changed my mind in favour of my brother Mikhail. I hope you understand a father’s feelings.” The last phrase he said more quietly. We agreed, if you could call it an agreement. Guchkov gave the Emperor a “draft”. The Emperor took it and went out.

After a while the Emperor entered again. He handed Guchkov a paper, saying “Here is the text.” I began to run over the text with my eyes, and something else squeezed my heart, which, it seemed, had already lost the ability to feel anything during these days. The text was written in amazing words. How pathetic, it seemed to me, the draft that we had brought with us. The Emperor brought the draft too and put it on the table.

There was nothing to add to the text of renunciation. In all of this terror for a moment a single ray of light broke through. I suddenly felt that from this moment on the life of the Emperor was in safe hands. Half of the thorns that were stuck in the hearts of his subjects were torn out by this piece of paper. So noble were these farewell words. And so it felt that he, just like us, and maybe even more, loves Russia.