In spite of the wonderful care which always surrounded Alexei, he bumped his knee during our trip on the yacht, bursting a blood vessel, which affected his groin and developed into a black and blue lump. It was so painful he could not bear to have the doctor examine it. His condition had bettered and the swelling below his abdomen was somewhat reduced, but when he was taken for a ride in a carriage, suddenly he became very ill and the swelling increased again, as did his temperature, and he became delirious.
Mother’s sister, Princess Irene, wife of Prince Henry of Prussia, and their son, Prince Sigismund, were visiting us at the time. She was very sympathetic regarding Alexei’s misfortune because one of her sons had died of haemophilia. She was one of the very few who knew about Alexei’s condition from the earliest symptoms. Those outside the family did not know of the serious nature of Alexei’s illness. Now Aunt Irene joined Mother in taking care of Alexei, especially since our trip to Spala had been planned several months ahead and previously arranged engagements could not be cancelled without arousing suspicion concerning the state of Alexei’s health.
We had many house guests who had come from several foreign countries and from many parts of Russia. Friends from nearby Warsaw sometimes joined us for dinners and entertainments which had been arranged for the pleasure of our guests. There was dancing and other professional amusements. But it was difficult for Mother to appear to be enjoying these festive occasions when at the same time fate might claim the life of her son. She ran up the stairs whenever possible, in order to be with Alexei for a few minutes. Meanwhile Father carried on as host, with Princess Irene taking Mother’s place as hostess during Mother’s absence.
We sisters gave a French play before our guests. I was delighted that our Swiss tutor, M. Pierre Gilliard, gave me a part that contributed largely to the success of our little performance. But, while performing before our audience, I mixed up my lines and could not hear the prompter; so I resorted to improvising. At this moment, while the guests were hilarious over my ad libbing, an elastic of my most delicate undergarment broke and the embarrassing white ruffled cambric fell to the floor. The audience became well-nigh hysterical and laughed far more than if I had remembered my lines.
The secrecy surrounding Alexei’s illness had always tormented me. I knew bleeding was involved, like the bleeding of a wound that could not be stopped. Marie and I were almost as ignorant as the general public as to the real nature of his illness. I remember tiptoeing into my brother’s room and there I saw Mother lying on a couch. In one corner was a basin filled with pieces of cotton which she had been applying to the blue swelling. As Alexei’s condition became worse, the rest of the family joined Mother at the side of his bed. I would have preferred to be outside where I could not see my brother’s suffering or hear his moans, yet something held me inside. There they were, Father, Olga, Tatiana, and Marie, all huddled together, a thin layer of hope spread over their despair. They were all in an attitude of prayer, and totally unaware of the struggle that was taking place in me. Suddenly, shame-faced, I slipped in beside them and found myself in the front ranks of the sorrowing family.
We all watched Mother, her hand enclosing Alexei’s as though she were trying to transmit her own strength into his frail body. He was not lying in a pool of blood as I had always expected but looked quite normal, except that he was very pale and moaned pitifully. His eyes seemed to be sunk into his head and he wore a peculiar expression on his face. Mother knelt beside him, encouraging her little son with a smile which seemed to say, “You will be well soon.” So long as Mother did not give up, Alexei knew his condition was not hopeless. We knew her heart was breaking, but before Alexei she was a picture of confidence and hope. Mother knew that if she left Alexei to the nurses, the boy would stop fighting, for it was her heroic presence which strengthened him.
Dr. Botkin, Mother’s private physician, relieved her on many nights as did my Aunt Irene. Dr. Fedorov, Dr. Dreifuss and Dr. Ostrogorsky were all summoned to repeat all the treatments which had helped in previous attacks. Dr. Fedorov, a renowned specialist in haemophilia, was in charge of Alexei. He had brought my brother through several other attacks, after which Dr. Derevenko, who was Dr. Fedorov’s assistant, became Alexei’s personal physician. The doctors’ efforts did not seem to bring about any change. Mother, however, remained confident even when the doctors were shaking their heads in despair. Mother understood every agony of the boy and seemed to be able to relieve his suffering. Alexei extended his feverish hands to her in appreciation. They understood each other perfectly.
Hopelessness was crushing Father. It was such double torture with the fear of losing Mother as well as Alexei in the event anything happened to Alexei. We had practically given up hope, but not Mother. She would not give up. We braced ourselves to meet the inevitable. Mother’s face was white but calm before Alexei’s searching eyes. As a last resort she directed that a telegram be sent to Rasputin at his home in Siberia, imploring him to pray for Alexei’s recovery. In the morning Mother sent for Father Vassiliev to administer the holy sacrament to our brother. Alexei and Mother looked straight into each other’s eyes, the one sending out waves of assurance, the other hopefully receptive. The light in her eyes never failed him.
In the meantime a bulletin had been issued about the boy’s serious condition. Father felt that the people had the right to know about their Tsarevich, although it was torture to reveal the secret kept so long. At this time Father also ordered the sending of wires to our foreign diplomatic representatives with a view to locating specialists who might be able to help Alexei, but no medic for this malady was found.
The doctors worked feverishly, their foreheads moist with their exertions. Silence was broken as Alexei moaned and Mother whispered, “Has no word come from the Starets?” Alexei clung to life even when all of us except Mother thought each breath might be his last. Under the tension we even wished that it would be, to spare him further agony!