Kremlin. I’m sure it was the starets , but when I tried to point him out to Tanya, he had melted into the crowd. It seemed to me a bad omen, though Mother would think just the opposite.
Olga seemed determined to see the dark side of everything. Marie, on the other hand, always saw the bright side. I felt stuck in the middle. How could we be so different?
• • •
Two thousand people attended a grand ball at the Hall of the Nobles in Moscow the night after our arrival. Aunt Olga said the hall was the finest ballroom in all of Europe. Marie and I were not invited, but Olga and Tatiana were. Mama wouldn’t let them wear ball gowns, just the usual white dresses and pearls. Tatiana’s hair was growing back after her illness. She tied it with a velvet ribbon.
“We look like schoolgirls,” Olga complained, studying her image in a tall mirror. “Mama still wants to dress us like children.”
Marie and I were waiting for them when they came back. “Tell! Tell! Tell!” we begged.
“Mother and Father opened the ball with a polonaise,” Tatiana reported, stripping off her long gloves.
“They weren’t actually dancing,” Olga said. “They just walked in a stately kind of way through the ballroom. It was quite splendidly decorated—lots of ferns and huge urns filled with flowers.”
“Ferns in urns,” I said, enjoying the sound of the words, “and urns of ferns. Who were your partners?”
Tatiana wrinkled her nose and flung herself down on her bed. “Army officers. My captain waltzed rather well, but he smelled of cigars.”
Olga laughed. “Mine, too. And his hands were clammy. So, you see, you two didn’t miss anything.”
• • •
At the end of May we went home—at last!—to Tsarskoe Selo. Tatiana’s sixteenth birthday came two days later, but there was no celebration like Olga’s. Mama had decided that another formal ball was not necessary.
Tatiana agreed. “I’ve had enough balls. I’d rather have a party on the Standart ,” she said. “Or a picnic on our special island.”
Olga would be happy no matter which Tatiana chose. Pavel Voronov would be there.
I’m counting the days until I see Pasha again. It has been nine months since we were together and that magical night when we kissed THREE TIMES.
I would have to keep a close watch, or I would miss everything.
CHAPTER 7
Olga in Love
BALTIC SEA, SUMMER 1913
T he Standart cruised along the coast of Finland. Papa and Mama were both tired from all the balls and receptions and dinners and ceremonies and happy not to have any official duties.
Tatiana celebrated her sixteenth birthday on the Standart , just the way she wanted. Mama decreed white dresses, pearls, and colored sashes—Olga was right, we did look like little girls instead of young ladies . Tatiana received her pearl and diamond necklace. It was a tradition in our family that each of us was given a diamond on our birthday and a large pearl on our name day, so that when we turned sixteen, we would each have a complete necklace of thirty-two beautiful gems. Chef Kharitonov produced a delicious meal, the balalaika orchestra played, and we danced on the deck with the officers, including Lieutenant Voronov.
I turned twelve on the fifth of June (twelve each, diamonds and pearls, kept in a velvet case), and nine days later Marie was fourteen, with more treats and dancing (and one more diamond). I was the only sister who did not yet have a bosom, but Marie promised that I would very soon. “Madame Becker is likely to make her appearance, Nastya,” she said. “Madame Becker” was their name for their monthly cycles.
Everyone was in a happy mood. Mama kept remarking on how successful the three hundredth celebration had been, how people had cheered and applauded wherever we went, especially the peasants in the countryside. “The real Russians,” she said, “not like those overstuffed, overdressed counts and countesses who look down their noses at everyone, at us,
Olga seemed determined to see the dark side of everything. Marie, on the other hand, always saw the bright side. I felt stuck in the middle. How could we be so different?
• • •
Two thousand people attended a grand ball at the Hall of the Nobles in Moscow the night after our arrival. Aunt Olga said the hall was the finest ballroom in all of Europe. Marie and I were not invited, but Olga and Tatiana were. Mama wouldn’t let them wear ball gowns, just the usual white dresses and pearls. Tatiana’s hair was growing back after her illness. She tied it with a velvet ribbon.
“We look like schoolgirls,” Olga complained, studying her image in a tall mirror. “Mama still wants to dress us like children.”
Marie and I were waiting for them when they came back. “Tell! Tell! Tell!” we begged.
“Mother and Father opened the ball with a polonaise,” Tatiana reported, stripping off her long gloves.
“They weren’t actually dancing,” Olga said. “They just walked in a stately kind of way through the ballroom. It was quite splendidly decorated—lots of ferns and huge urns filled with flowers.”
“Ferns in urns,” I said, enjoying the sound of the words, “and urns of ferns. Who were your partners?”
Tatiana wrinkled her nose and flung herself down on her bed. “Army officers. My captain waltzed rather well, but he smelled of cigars.”
Olga laughed. “Mine, too. And his hands were clammy. So, you see, you two didn’t miss anything.”
• • •
At the end of May we went home—at last!—to Tsarskoe Selo. Tatiana’s sixteenth birthday came two days later, but there was no celebration like Olga’s. Mama had decided that another formal ball was not necessary.
Tatiana agreed. “I’ve had enough balls. I’d rather have a party on the Standart ,” she said. “Or a picnic on our special island.”
Olga would be happy no matter which Tatiana chose. Pavel Voronov would be there.
I’m counting the days until I see Pasha again. It has been nine months since we were together and that magical night when we kissed THREE TIMES.
I would have to keep a close watch, or I would miss everything.
CHAPTER 7
Olga in Love
BALTIC SEA, SUMMER 1913
T he Standart cruised along the coast of Finland. Papa and Mama were both tired from all the balls and receptions and dinners and ceremonies and happy not to have any official duties.
Tatiana celebrated her sixteenth birthday on the Standart , just the way she wanted. Mama decreed white dresses, pearls, and colored sashes—Olga was right, we did look like little girls instead of young ladies . Tatiana received her pearl and diamond necklace. It was a tradition in our family that each of us was given a diamond on our birthday and a large pearl on our name day, so that when we turned sixteen, we would each have a complete necklace of thirty-two beautiful gems. Chef Kharitonov produced a delicious meal, the balalaika orchestra played, and we danced on the deck with the officers, including Lieutenant Voronov.
I turned twelve on the fifth of June (twelve each, diamonds and pearls, kept in a velvet case), and nine days later Marie was fourteen, with more treats and dancing (and one more diamond). I was the only sister who did not yet have a bosom, but Marie promised that I would very soon. “Madame Becker is likely to make her appearance, Nastya,” she said. “Madame Becker” was their name for their monthly cycles.
Everyone was in a happy mood. Mama kept remarking on how successful the three hundredth celebration had been, how people had cheered and applauded wherever we went, especially the peasants in the countryside. “The real Russians,” she said, “not like those overstuffed, overdressed counts and countesses who look down their noses at everyone, at us,
Similar Books
