Each moment we thought to be the last, yet each moment was filled with the hope that the trip would be called off. The minutes passed into hours. Midnight, morning, each second was filled with listening dread. Then came the guards, and Colonel Kobylinsky and Yakovlev. Mother went again into Alexei’s room as he was still crying. Almost gayly she assured him she would be back soon. Father made a cross over us, gave his blessing and kissed our wet cheeks. “All ready,” a voice came. “Certainly,” Father answered. We followed our parents out of the house and stood on the steps to see them seated in the waiting tarantasy. In one a mattress had been rolled to make a seat; it was covered with a blanket. This vehicle, drawn by three horses, Mother and Marie occupied. The other one had a bundle of straw to serve as a seat, which also was covered with a blanket. Father and Yakovlev got into this one. There were also tarantasy to carry the others, all the luggage and three folding beds. The guards stepped aside; the gate opened and closed. They were gone. Prince Dolgorukov, Dr. Botkin, Chemodurov and Anna Demidova were with them. The officers and soldiers were following on horseback.
The gate closed at 4:00 A.M., April 26th, 1918, new style, leaving us standing there in tragic silence, confused, frightened, bewildered as to our future. We ran to our room, threw ourselves on the beds and sobbed until we could cry no more. Our dear friend Gillek was with Alexei. We could not get to him. He understood. Thank God, for our loyal friends who defended us. How much they suffered on account of us! And how many good people lost their lives to save us. God give them everlasting peace.
Alexei was calling. The room was full of his calls, pitiful calls for Mother and Father. Tatiana bent over him tenderly with both arms wrapped around his frail body. From utter exhaustion his cries grew fainter. She pressed him close. At last he quieted down and fell asleep in his new mother’s arms.
After the parents left, we sisters assumed additional duties. I, being of a restless nature, was given the task of entering all bills and receipts in a big book at the end of each day. The first time I opened the book I found inside many bills and copies of receipts and promissory notes that were given to merchants by Prince Dolgorukov and General Tatishchev. On inquiry we found out that when the expense money which had been promised to Father by Kerensky and which was to be drawn from our own funds, had failed to come, our household bills had been cared for, unbeknown to Father, by Prince Dolgorukov and General Tatishchev. When their own personal funds were exhausted, these good friends of ours gave the merchants their own personal notes guaranteeing payment of these debts. This fact was kept secret from Father.
The same railroad for which Father and his forefathers laid the first stone in construction was now to carry him to his death. All was left for the new masters who claimed credit for everything and who even changed the names of our once proud cities, universities, hospitals, palaces, museums, industrial and other enterprises, regarding which they had nothing in common except the desire to blow them up at the first opportunity. They renamed them after the worst thieves and murderers in all history. Petrograd, built by Peter the Great, they changed to Leningrad after that murderer, Lenin, whose body upon his death became black and so badly decomposed that the poor chemist was shot because he was not able to complete the process of embalming.
The leaders went into the prisons where among thousands of innocent officers, clergymen and others, they found a man resembling Lenin. At four o’clock in the morning they shot the innocent victim and his body was embalmed. Later that same morning Lenin’s body was disposed of. Today millions of tourists see this mausoleum on Red Square close to the wall of the Kremlin. Within a short distance of the red brick wall lie the Holy Sanctuaries. Here are the remains of the murdered man under glass. If you should see this man, do not condemn him, for he is an innocent victim, but pray for him that his suffering was not long. I have heard this from a friend who met a sister of the nurse who was present at this event.
The curtain had fallen on the travellers—Father, Mother and Marie. They had left. The new day could not draw the curtain aside to permit one look into their uncertain future. Only our anxiety could keep them from continuing the trip and force them to return. Perhaps the river would prove impassable and they would have to wait for the thaw, when we could all go together. If Alexei’s illness had not delayed our trip, perhaps we would all have been taken to Moscow. Probably Mother would have given her consent that the children go abroad, and she and Father would have stayed in Russia. This matter was laid before her, but she would not listen. She emphasized that the trial was only the preparation of the spirit; she was willing to die for her country. She prepared us to believe her belief. Olga, Marie, Alexei and I were not willing, Tatiana accepted the inevitable.
We received no news to break our apprehension; no sunshine dispelled our dread. Dread loomed everywhere, but we knew we must not give in but hope this trip would bring betterment to our lives. There was Alexei to cheer and there were new guards to win over.
At night we heard heavy footsteps and the clicking of arms. Every sound suggested fear. We heard that Count Benckendorff was negotiating with Mirbach for our rescue. Olga kept warning us to be particularly careful. “Now that we are alone, we must be cautious with those cruel men,” she said. When Dr. Botkin left us, we lost one of our staunchest protectors. Now our good friend and tutor, M. Gilliard, played the role of a brother to us. Other friends who had moved into our house were now fellow prisoners. They were helpless but at least we had them as consultants. Colonel Kobylinsky, that blessed little man, was still with us. It gave us comfort. Others too were protecting us, including General Tatishchev, Mlle. Bittner, Shura Tegleva, and Alexei’s faithful Ukrainian servant, Nagorny.
The guards continued to flow into Alexei’s room to check on his health. They still did not believe he was ill. We sisters were anxious for Alexei to be well, so that when the river thawed we should be able to follow our parents. Meantime one of the men who drove the family half way to Tiumen brought a letter from Marie describing the incredible condition of the river. It was a miracle that Mother had survived that trip. We were sick at heart that they were suffering there, while here we suffered just as much. The new guards were rough and frightening. We submitted to their tyranny, making no challenge to their disagreeableness. But we were eager for any news which might come to us through Colonel Kobylinsky. Now the poor man had grown nervous and troubled, his hands shook and a strain was noticeable on his face.