Up to now our parents had had their food prepared outside. But when Kharitonov arrived, he resumed his duties as our cook. In the beginning we were allowed fifteen minutes each day to walk in the small, muddy garden; soon the grass began to show signs of life and the fragrant lilacs began to bloom. We were permitted to take some violets and lilacs to Mother, but they had to be examined at the office before they were taken into our apartments. A few trees showed considerable abuse, as the horses had chewed off much of the bark on the white birch and poplar trees. We picked the blossoms of the linden tree, dried them and used them to make tea. There was always something fragrant in the garden; when the acacia was in bloom the fragrance seeped through the windows. Sometimes Mother went out with us in the yard, when Alexei was feeling better. After Nagorny was taken away and when Father was ill, Dr. Botkin or Marie carried Alexei down into the garden. One day when Dr. Botkin carried him, Alexei threw his arms around his neck and kissed this good friend on both cheeks in gratitude. During our walking exercises we were subjected to the watchful eyes of the guards. They all carried hand grenades in their belts. Some of these were good men, but none stayed more than a few days. Once we heard them say, “Where there are devils, there is Hell, and that is what we have now.”

Our window panes had been painted white outside, except for a tiny space at the top through which we could glimpse the blue sky. After a while Father wrote Yurovsky asking him to remove enough paint so that we could see the thermometer which was on the left side of the window frame outside. We saw nothing but walls, prison walls.

Alexei asked Father to request that M. Gilliard be returned to us. This too was denied. Alexei also asked Father how long we would have to stay in this place. Father could not help but tell the truth, “It might be long.” Alexei never brought up that question again.

Sometimes at night shots would be heard; an agonized cry, then quiet. They searched our house again. We sisters were still without beds. They told us to set our clocks ahead by two hours. We had our breakfast at 12:30 noon. Kharitonov had to work not only for us and our staff but also for these terrible men. The odors of fish and other good-smelling things would drift to our rooms, but they were not for us. These foods were for the Commandant and the guards. We were given a thin fish soup or half-cooked veal cutlet at noon and a cold one at night. Father could not eat these things, so he went frequently without food. Mother’s meals consisted usually of spaghetti and tea, which little Leonid prepared for her over a small kerosene burner, because she refused to sit at the same table with those vulgar men. The guards ate at the same table with the family. For us, it was a question of eating the revolting stuff or starving while the guards lived off the fat of the land at our expense.

XXIII
DEPRIVATION AND COURAGE

Every week Father was questioned in the Commissar’s room, while the guards stood by at the doorway of our rooms. One day Father returned very upset after being questioned for two hours. They showed him a war document, the “Orange Book” as it was called, from which a number of documents were missing and accused Father of destroying these documents and substituting a letter from the Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria, in which he wrote to Father that he did not wish to acquire any territory, but to die in peace in his old age. They ignored the fact that these documents had been held at the Ministry of War after they had been read by Father and the General Staff. Their suspicions were based on the assumption that it was impossible for the Emperor Francis Joseph to have written such a letter.

We had no privacy, not even the privacy of a prison. All the doors of our rooms had been removed before we arrived at the Ipatiev House. At any time of the day or night the guards or the Commandant would stalk into our rooms, without knocking. This occurred about every three hours for their check-up. The stench of liquor that flooded the rooms warned us of their approach. They sat on Alexei’s bed. They drank from our tumblers. They stuffed into their pockets anything that caught their eye. They came in twos or threes. By this time we had kept only our most treasured keepsakes, so whatever they helped themselves to was a real loss to us. But even precious things were worth losing if they would but leave us alone without this constant intrusion. They kept coming in more often, flaunting their authority in our faces, joking at our expense, and toying with the veneer of our composure. By comparison, the first guards at Tobolsk were gentlemen. We could not believe these creatures were soldiers. They seemed too uncouth to have been in any service of the Army. At night their hideous brawlings reached us from their quarters below to fill us with disgust and terror. Dr. Botkin tried to intercede. He went to the Commandant and urged him to see that his men were less rowdy, but they continued to act as before. Father seldom spoke to the Commissars. Anything he needed he wrote down and handed it to his valet Trup to deliver to Yurovsky.

In cases of illness, Dr. Botkin took care of us on his own accord. We sisters at home were trained not to be familiar with anyone around us, and always to be reserved. Mother also spoke seldom to her help, except when giving orders; and yet she was very kind to those who were in trouble or in need. Mother was the first one to help them financially. And now when Anna Demidova lost all her belongings Mother promised to replace their losses to all who were in our service.

Once when Kharitonov was ill, we sisters undertook the task of preparing the food. One day a burlap sack of potatoes was brought to the kitchen. “Peel them,” said one of the guards. Potatoes! Something so real, so much a part of the earth, to hold in our hands. We fondled each one, breathing in its earthy smell; no perfume like it. We made a game out of paring and when we finished, there was only a small pile of peelings. It was a refreshing task. We assumed some of these would be for our meals, but no potatoes were served to us. We helped on another occasion in the kitchen, baking bread. Kharitonov was appreciative of our help, since he had lately been in poor health, and the task of cooking for so many, commissars and others as well as for us, was too much for him.

Twice a week two maids came in to care for our rooms. They cleaned, washed the floors and changed our bedding. We helped them all we could and were glad to see the new faces about. We could not converse with them, because the guards stood at the doorway wherever they worked. We saw their frightened faces. We understood and they applied themselves to the execution of their strict orders. Upon entering our rooms and again on leaving they were searched. But somehow these women managed to tell us that some of our friends had been imprisoned and some shot.