The background of gunfire was punctuated by several hollower, heavier blasts, and following the last of these came the sound of something collapsing. The Aurora, anchored in the middle of the Neva between the Fortress and the palace, was firing on the latter at point-blank range. My heart sank. Could these really be the last moments of the Winter Palace’s existence? But next door was the Hermitage, home to the Russian state’s foremost treasures, home to everything I hold dearest in the world!