In the evening we gathered in Father’s study which was smaller than our other rooms. Father read to us and we sewed until our fingers became so stiff we could hardly hold the needles. But there was a richness in that room that made us reluctant to complain. Sometimes we played dominoes, bingo, or durachka, a card game (resembling five hundred) which Father disliked. Tatiana played bridge best of all, while Mother’s favorite was bezique. Ten o’clock was bed time for us younger girls, but Alexei used to retire at eight. Later on when life became monotonous, Mother asked our friends to join us in the evening. Some played games and others read.
Father also brought with him his diaries and his letters. These had been confiscated in Tsarskoe Selo but were returned to him when nothing incriminating was found in them. We sat around Father in the middle of the room, away from the draft of the windows, listening to his reading aloud. I am sure his heart felt sad as did our own. We learned many interesting events that took place before and during Father’s reign. Father wanted Olga or Tatiana to write a history of present events as soon as we were free, and for that reason he wanted us to remember every event that took place before and after our arrest and during our life in Tobolsk.
Our letters to friends were harmless; some went through Colonel Kobylinsky’s hands and were read by him, but some were not. Later, when we were in Ekaterinburg, we were shown photostatic copies of these letters carried back and forth by Soloviev. Then we realized he was a spy. Once in Ekaterinburg, Mother in her dark hour said, “I warned Anna again and again to be careful of what she was doing, and now she has made another mistake.” After this Mother never again mentioned Anna’s name. I hope she did not leave this world with this bitterness in her heart toward her friend, who unfortunately brought one serious trouble after another not only to Mother but to the whole family. Olga and Marie always opposed Anna but Mother resented anyone saying anything against her friend.
It had been promised that when Baroness Buxhoeveden arrived, she would be staying with us. We fixed her room ourselves and the final touches were approved by Mother. It was Christmas week when she reached Tobolsk. The day she was supposed to come to the house, Colonel Kobylinsky notified Father that he wished to speak to him. He informed Father that the Soldiers’ Committee decided against her joining us. Not having money Iza and her English assistant organized English classes in town and found many people enthusiastic to study this language. She met us only on the boat when we left for Ekaterinburg.
On two occasions, the icon of the Image of the Holy Virgin was brought from the Abalak Monastery to the Church of the Annunciation for services which the family attended.
The first time was November 14th, old style, the anniversary of my parents’ wedding. We had prayed before this icon in the Monastery and were deeply moved to be able to do so again. The church bells rang as we left the church and continued until we reentered the house.
The second time was on Father’s name day—December 6th, old style. No one was allowed to enter this holy place while we were there. At the end of the service, as though nothing had changed, prayers were offered, ending with a Mnogoletie (“Long Life for the Imperial Family”) as had always been done before the revolution. We were surprised at the priest’s courage. Father’s face turned white and we all glanced at each other. Olga’s pale face turned faintly red, and she wiped her eyes. We wondered if there was going to be trouble ahead. There was. They promptly demanded the death penalty for Father Vassiliev, but he was saved, though not for long. He was sent away by Bishop Hermogen and was replaced by another one. The nuns too were taken away.
We were now forbidden to attend church services, but after hours of pleading with the Soldiers’ Committee by Colonel Kobylinsky, we received permission to attend church services but only on the twelve principal holidays. From now on the restrictions became more severe.
Finally Christmas eve arrived. Mother presented everyone with one of the gifts we had been working on for months. The villagers too were thoughtful. They sent us two Christmas trees, one of which we sent to our friends across the street, with whom we shared some delicacies that were sent us by the Ivanovsky nunnery and by the head people of the local museum. In the evening, vespers were held in the big hall and we were grateful that there was no interference. We looked forward to the Christmas morning services at the church.
Somehow I felt a sadness as we walked along the path packed with snow. It was cold and dreary and at eight in the morning still dark. The sky overhead was heavy. It gave me simultaneously a feeling of loneliness and apprehension. It was so quiet that only the crackling of the frozen snow under our feet broke the stillness. We did not speak to each other; each one was occupied with his own thoughts. It is quietness like this that awakens one’s heart to fond memories of the past. We crossed the small garden and with my mind’s eye I could see the museum, the little park, and in it the proud obelisk dedicated to Yermak, the conqueror of Siberia. A short walk, but my thoughts covered thousands of miles behind the frozen plains of Siberia. I could see our Grandmother, our aunts and their children, and our friends, and I wondered if they had forgotten us. Above all I thought of our old homes, where I had spent sixteen happy years of my life. All seemed so cold and so far away.