Each moment took me farther away from the woman. I had taken her protection for granted. My feeling for her had been a mixture of wonder and resentment. I always hoped that some day she would talk to me and tell me what I wanted to know. Now that day was gone forever. But she had done her part faithfully and I must be grateful. That last night at the dugout, when we looked eye to eye, she understood what I wanted most. I would have liked to put it in words. That night I had felt close to her. Now she was far from me, free to return to her accustomed way of life. What was her life? On our way, had we dropped her at her home? This dugout, where I had been so long, was it far from Ekaterinburg?
The men spoke of Uktus and Mramorskaya. Was one of these the location of my dugout? It was an irritating mystery. No part of the mystery was solved and now the woman was gone without telling me a thing.
The men kept peering through the darkness, taking advantage of its unlimited screen to make all possible progress. My inner darkness exceeded the darkness of the night. At length the outer darkness lifted to herald the coming dawn. Soon the majestic sun appeared unchallenged. I was cold and numb until a quick turn of the wagon made me forget my numbness.
The horses halted and the men stood up to stretch. They jumped down and helped me to alight. Then handing me the basket and the army blanket, they began to unharness the horses. This was the beginning of our fourth day on the road. I attended to the food while the men cared for the horses. The basket contained a fresh supply of food—black bread, eggs and a bottle of water. The woman must have baked the bread for us, while we were asleep. I found a sunny spot on which to spread the blanket while we ate.
When we finished they jumped to their feet, folded the blanket and we were off again. I climbed to the driver’s seat, where we sat three abreast. We were a family of peasants driving between work fields. My faded clothes fitted perfectly into the scheme. That day the horses seemed to know the route as well as the driver. They knew all the byways. They must have driven these roads frequently. From a hill I could see a village in the distance. I did not ask their names and the men did not volunteer the information. We did see some people walking on these roads. We also passed a few wagons.
When I noticed that the men were less tense, I assumed we were beyond the danger zone. We were all in a more relaxed mood. We stopped in another spot and laid out the food, but there was very little left. They were so tired, they hardly could eat The meager meal was soon finished and they harnessed the horses. One of them took the blanket and climbed on top of the hay and spread it out. The other man helped me up; here I was to spend my night. How imperturbable these men were, so reassuring when I was most afraid. Their thoughtfulness touched me. Now that the men could not see me, I could shed the tears I had turned back yesterday. I fell asleep until the wagon halted again. I sat up in fright. It was a dark night. The stars were quivering. I heard the straps fall. The whiffle-tree hit the ground. The horses were stepping out of their traces. We were to spend the night here. The men stretched outside beside the wagon.
We had been sleeping for a while when I thought I heard a scream of some kind. I heard it again. Now it was a shriek, the horses neighed with a shrill sound and jerked the wagon to which they were tied. The men sprang to their feet and began to pull some hay off the wagon. They threw it to the ground and lighted a match to make a fire. Soon the horses quieted down. I overheard the men saying there were two wolves.
After this scare it was easy to keep awake. I felt sorry for the men who were up and down several times during the night. At last dawn appeared and I heard them stirring in preparation for a new departure. I combed my hair, using my fingers for a comb and my palm for a brush, trying to make myself as presentable as possible. I knew I did not look well groomed but I did not much care. One of the men helped me down from the wagon, the other brought some water and poured it into my hands. I washed my face without soap. We had spent the night not far from a farmhouse known to my companions.
We emerged from the forests into open fields, then another forest. Judging by the sun I figured we were moving in a southwesterly direction. These inscrutable men stopped at another byway for rest and food. We ate bread and washed it down with water. Not a word was spoken during lunch. Soon we rattled again along the roads and country lanes without any special incident. We met a number of frail men and women, and barefoot children wearing tattered clothes. We got out of one rut only to get into another. The jerks and vibrations were making me ill.
Now the farms were great distances apart. A shortage of seeds in their shacks indicated a harsh struggle to raise food and keep the family warm. The condition of the country was such that it permitted only a bare existence. What went on in the big cities could hardly interest these peasants. Perhaps these people had not even heard of the massacre of the thousands of people, of their Emperor and his family. Surely the chances of meeting with anyone acquainted with the Imperial family must be remote. Who could associate this pathetic, toothless, faded creature between these two men with anything royal? I heard later that all the grain was taken away from the peasants and many died during the winter of 1917-18. Now the men talked freely about their journey. They even joked about their fright. But they exchanged only a few words with me. They did not address me nor use my real name or title.