asked.
“It’s not for me to say,” she replied, but she was not looking at me as she spoke.
“You think he’s a devil, don’t you?”
“If he helps your brother, who suffers so very much, then it doesn’t matter what I think.”
She refused to say more.
• • •
The hunting season in Poland passed without much happening, except to the poor stags, and OTMA counted the days until we would board the train for Livadia. The Standart would be there, and Lieutenant Voronov. Mama would be more relaxed, and there would be lots of interesting visitors, like the emir of Bukhara and his red-bearded court.
But once again Papa had to deal with Romanov family problems. Our cousin Maria Pavlovna, Dmitri’s older sister, had left her Swedish husband and gone to live with her father in France. Her father was Papa’s uncle, Grand Duke Pavel Alexandrovich, who asked Papa’s permission to arrange for Maria Pavlovna’s divorce, explaining that she was ill.
I scarcely knew Dmitri’s sister, and I wasn’t much concerned with whether or not Papa would allow her to divorce her husband. It seemed odd, though, that Papa should have to decide who was allowed to marry or get divorced, even if he was the Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias and God’s representative on earth. Didn’t Papa have enough to do without that?
When I told Aunt Olga what I thought, she smiled and said, “I understand why you think as you do, my dear little Nastya, but that’s simply the way it is. When you’re older, I will tell you my own story.”
“Why not tell me now, dear aunt? I’m twelve, and I think I’m quite old enough to hear it.”
But she shook her head and hugged me, whispering, “Someday, but not quite yet.”
Being told that I was too young to hear something obviously very important and interesting was maddening—and made me determined to find out what it was.
Then in October, while we were at Livadia, we learned that our cousin Irina was going to marry Felix Yussoupov.
We hadn’t seen Irina since the previous spring, when Dmitri was my escort at the celebration but flirted madly with Irina. Felix was Dmitri’s best friend—they were often together—and Felix had also been flirting with Irina.
Mama was horrified when she heard about Irina’s plans. “I would never allow any of my daughters to have anything at all to do with Felix,” she said firmly. “And certainly not marry him!”
Olga did not want to talk about it.
The more I see of these engagements, the less I want one. I’ll soon be eighteen, and I know my parents are thinking of a suitable husband for me. But I am more than ever in love with my dear, sweet friend. I don’t need to name him. And he has made clear his love for me. He knows as well as I do that marriage is impossible, Father would never consent to it, but we have promised ourselves and each other that we will cherish each day, each hour, that we can be together until it is no longer possible. How I dread that day.
Olga celebrated her eighteenth birthday in Livadia at a party with a splendid luncheon with dancing afterward, notin the palace but on the quarterdeck of the Standart . Naturally, Lieutenant Voronov was among her partners, but she danced with him only twice. I know they would have danced every dance if they could, but they behaved prudently and danced with others. I could see that he was always searching for her, and her eyes followed him wherever he went, but unless I missed something, there was no chance for them to slip out of sight.
I wondered who else in our family knew about her real feelings. Surely others must have noticed how she glowed like a dozen candles when he was nearby. I should have guessed it would be Aunt Olga.
The only person in whom I can confide is Aunt Olga. She brought it up herself just yesterday. She said that Mother and Father are aware of my “attachment.” I asked if they want to end it, and she said it is very likely. I began to cry, and
“It’s not for me to say,” she replied, but she was not looking at me as she spoke.
“You think he’s a devil, don’t you?”
“If he helps your brother, who suffers so very much, then it doesn’t matter what I think.”
She refused to say more.
• • •
The hunting season in Poland passed without much happening, except to the poor stags, and OTMA counted the days until we would board the train for Livadia. The Standart would be there, and Lieutenant Voronov. Mama would be more relaxed, and there would be lots of interesting visitors, like the emir of Bukhara and his red-bearded court.
But once again Papa had to deal with Romanov family problems. Our cousin Maria Pavlovna, Dmitri’s older sister, had left her Swedish husband and gone to live with her father in France. Her father was Papa’s uncle, Grand Duke Pavel Alexandrovich, who asked Papa’s permission to arrange for Maria Pavlovna’s divorce, explaining that she was ill.
I scarcely knew Dmitri’s sister, and I wasn’t much concerned with whether or not Papa would allow her to divorce her husband. It seemed odd, though, that Papa should have to decide who was allowed to marry or get divorced, even if he was the Emperor and Autocrat of All the Russias and God’s representative on earth. Didn’t Papa have enough to do without that?
When I told Aunt Olga what I thought, she smiled and said, “I understand why you think as you do, my dear little Nastya, but that’s simply the way it is. When you’re older, I will tell you my own story.”
“Why not tell me now, dear aunt? I’m twelve, and I think I’m quite old enough to hear it.”
But she shook her head and hugged me, whispering, “Someday, but not quite yet.”
Being told that I was too young to hear something obviously very important and interesting was maddening—and made me determined to find out what it was.
Then in October, while we were at Livadia, we learned that our cousin Irina was going to marry Felix Yussoupov.
We hadn’t seen Irina since the previous spring, when Dmitri was my escort at the celebration but flirted madly with Irina. Felix was Dmitri’s best friend—they were often together—and Felix had also been flirting with Irina.
Mama was horrified when she heard about Irina’s plans. “I would never allow any of my daughters to have anything at all to do with Felix,” she said firmly. “And certainly not marry him!”
Olga did not want to talk about it.
The more I see of these engagements, the less I want one. I’ll soon be eighteen, and I know my parents are thinking of a suitable husband for me. But I am more than ever in love with my dear, sweet friend. I don’t need to name him. And he has made clear his love for me. He knows as well as I do that marriage is impossible, Father would never consent to it, but we have promised ourselves and each other that we will cherish each day, each hour, that we can be together until it is no longer possible. How I dread that day.
Olga celebrated her eighteenth birthday in Livadia at a party with a splendid luncheon with dancing afterward, notin the palace but on the quarterdeck of the Standart . Naturally, Lieutenant Voronov was among her partners, but she danced with him only twice. I know they would have danced every dance if they could, but they behaved prudently and danced with others. I could see that he was always searching for her, and her eyes followed him wherever he went, but unless I missed something, there was no chance for them to slip out of sight.
I wondered who else in our family knew about her real feelings. Surely others must have noticed how she glowed like a dozen candles when he was nearby. I should have guessed it would be Aunt Olga.
The only person in whom I can confide is Aunt Olga. She brought it up herself just yesterday. She said that Mother and Father are aware of my “attachment.” I asked if they want to end it, and she said it is very likely. I began to cry, and
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