When the Moscow contingent of The People’s Will learned that they had blown up the wrong train, Sophia Perovskaya truly began to wonder—although she despised the old superstitious beliefs still so prevalent in Russia—if the tsar was leading a charmed life after all. Somehow it did not occur to her to feel remorse over the fact that her error had cost the lives of many innocent passengers on that ill-fated train.
In St. Petersburg, two days after yet another close escape from death, Alexander Romanov was still noticeably shaken. He took the news of this latest bombing very hard. In fact, when Viktor Fedorcenko called on him soon after his return, the tsar had never looked so poorly. He looked like a man walking about under a sentence of death—vacant, nervous, distracted, afraid.
Viktor’s heart ached for his monarch. He could not begin to imagine what it must be like to live each day not knowing if it might be his last on the face of the earth, never knowing if at some unexpected moment a violent, dreadful, bloody end awaited him.
And yet it was more than fear for his own mortality that ate away at the mental and emotional stability of the tsar.
He glanced around at Viktor and the two or three other ministers whom he had called together. “What have I done that has been so wrong?” he asked miserably. His eyes held the bewilderment of a child. “Am I a wild beast that they must hunt me down and kill me?”
“They are the beasts,” said Viktor with clear conviction.
“They are lunatics!” declared Orlov. “And we will hunt them down, to be sure, Your Majesty. Vlasenko has already made some conspicuous arrests.”
“So quickly?” asked Viktor. He was not exactly free to voice his distrust for Cyril any more than his dislike for him. Yet even as an impartial politician, in view of the circumstances he feared that the new Third Section chief might well forsake clear evidence in his zeal to exact retribution. Failures on the part of the Third Section and the police must sooner or later be called to account by the tsar. Knowing Vlasenko’s propensity for over-reaction and his desire to make a name for himself in the capital city, Viktor would not put it past him to tell his officials to haul in anyone they could, just to improve what had till then been a miserable record.
“And why not?” asked Orlov. “These rebels are not only fools, they are incredibly stupid.”
“I want those arrested to go to trial immediately,” said the tsar, seeming suddenly to come to himself. “These malefactors, these blackguard assassins must receive no mercy. They are unquestionably murderers, even if they did fail with me. How many others died in that explosion? That they missed their chief target does not lessen their crime!”
“At least this incident has curbed public sympathy toward these radicals,” offered Viktor. “The press’s sympathy is decidedly leaning in your direction, Your Majesty.”
“There remain pockets of disloyalty,” said Orlov. “Only yesterday I read an article in Danilcik’s paper criticizing His Majesty.”
“Danilcik . . . ?” mused the tsar. “Strange, I don’t remember ever having done him a favor. Why then should he hate me?” He shifted moodily in his chair. “That is what I have learned in the bitter school of experience. . . . All I have to do to make an enemy is to do someone a favor.” He stopped, then reached for a glass of water with a trembling hand.
Viktor recalled Alexander in his youth—kind, sensitive, idealistic. After twenty-three years of rule, that same sensitivity had degenerated into weakness, and the idealism had deteriorated into cynicism. When Russia most needed strong leadership, the Motherland was left with a wreck of a man at the helm. Even if the assassins continued unsuccessful, how much longer could Alexander hold up under this intense pressure?
“I wish you all to leave now,” said the tsar at length with a weary wave of his hand. “We can continue this discussion tomorrow.”
The small group bid their sovereign a good afternoon, then backed from the room. No one would dream of turning his back on His Majesty.
As the door opened and they began to file out, Alexander said to no one in particular, “Send in Totiev.”
The secretary, who was close at hand, heard the command and entered the private chamber immediately. Before the door closed, Viktor caught the first few words spoken by the tsar in an agitated voice.
“Telegraph Livadia immediately. I must see Princess Dolgoruky!”