With real resentment I allowed the woman to tend to my wounds. Since they were not serious enough to let me die, I had no desire to examine them to ascertain their nature. So far I had received very little nourishment from taking food, partly because I was afraid the nausea might return.
She brought me some delicious soup with a strong flavor and containing some barley. It was nourishing; I could almost feel an increased strength as I took it. Yet I did not want to get well. The woman gave me good care, but it seemed to be mistaken kindness. Now that I knew the worst, she seemed more distant than ever. It was as if she feared for her own life. She did what was necessary and departed quickly. But why was she nursing me? I could not understand it. I only knew I was alone and could not die. Hauntingly the prayer we sisters had written together kept coming to my mind. I tried to say it but the words had lost their meaning.
Over and over haunting thoughts catapulted into my mind. How did I escape the death intended for the whole family? Why did they want to do away with us? We could have gone abroad, never to return, if we could only have kept together. I remembered Mother’s frequent words, that the throne had brought nothing but unhappiness to our family. We all loved our Motherland and would have been content to live as ordinary citizens in some obscure part of it.
Had Father suspected this ending? When he carried his head erect, was he looking forward with hope or was he facing death squarely to show how bravely a Tsar could die? At the price of disloyalty to Russia, he could have saved his life. Not he, not Mother, nor any of us could be tempted to save ourselves at Russia’s expense. Except when his epaulettes were removed, I had never seen Father bitter, but only infinitely sad that he could not spare his people the tragedy of a revolution. The ruthless propaganda would not let the nation know him for what he was—one who wanted to do right and do it well. Father was the victim of the Kaiser’s intrigue. Mother was misunderstood. She had done only what she thought was best for Russia. Now I could see it all. From the very first, there had been no chance....
We had been moved to Tobolsk, further inland, making our escape less possible. Siberia was far from Finland, the mecca of fugitives. Father had believed Kerensky who assured him we would be safer in the hinterland—far safer as targets!
I hoped and prayed that Mother’s heart had failed her before the assassins’ bullets reached her. I hoped that she had cheated Yurovsky and his fellow-murderers. This would have given me great satisfaction. He at no time fooled Mother. She knew, suspected, and understood it all. She and Olga had uncanny discernment.
We believed God would always take care of us. The little intuitive prayers that arose within us, when suddenly confronted with a fresh persecution; the strength that we received in adjusting ourselves to new humiliating requirements; the exaltation we felt in the sense of God’s guidance. All these underlined the idea, “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.” Perhaps if we had not trusted so exaltingly, we might have done more to help ourselves.
These were my thoughts of despair when suddenly I heard voices in my cell, faint voices, but I could understand this much: the man said, “Organized parties are searching everywhere, in the woods, in the houses. They have found nothing. No one suspects us, but you can see we are in danger.” He said much more than that, but this is all I could understand.
“Which one of your sisters was very tall?” the woman asked.
“Tatiana,” I replied excitedly.