The arrangements of the first floor were the same as on the second. The rooms opened on both sides of a long corridor which ran from the front to the back of the house. The closest room to the vestibule was occupied by an orderly officer on duty. M. Gilliard’s room and the dining room were on this floor, as were the remaining quarters used by our household. But later the larger rooms had to be divided by partitions to make two rooms out of one, in order to accommodate everyone possible. Almost all the rooms had parquet floors, and on the second floor we had some of our fine Persian scatter rugs and others, all sent to us from Tsarskoe Selo by Makarov. Most of the remainder of the staff was housed across the street in the large residence which belonged to a rich merchant named Kornilov. Extra maids had accommodations in town. Our walks were not exciting, because of the limited space, which consisted of a small garden, where there were some Siberian irises, and a part of the street and a part of a square joined to the garden by a high wooden fence. This space was always guarded by a dozen or more soldiers on the outside and by that many more inside. In the back of the house there were the temporary barracks built to accommodate the guards. From here they could observe all our activities. We played ball or tug of war among ourselves; and occasionally other games with the guards. Father was always present at these games. We began to feel almost natural in our prison house. The small quarters took the form of a home and we settled down into a peaceful routine. From the absence of shooting and rioting, it was evident the revolution had not reached this part of the country. In fact, everything was so quiet it was hard to believe it could be Russia. One of Father’s complaints was the lack of news. We were completely isolated. We did receive a locally published newspaper containing mostly hearsay. No first hand information freshened its pages, nor did it contain any foreign news. Now and then Commissar Makarov and the guards inadvertently dropped some news. Our friends from across the street were at liberty to enter the governor’s house and resume their duties. They even were permitted to see the town, but we could not go out. Thanks to Colonel Kobylinsky, our first two months at Tobolsk were quite pleasant. The house came near to being the kind of home that Mother had always longed for--one in which we could be close to each other. No external duties claimed any of us, not even Father--a situation that made him restless. There were many guards everywhere, but they, like Colonel Kobylinsky, had come with us from Tsarskoe Selo and knew us as submissive prisoners. They became our friends and we chatted with them freely. The colonel was very kind; Father nicknamed him “our friend.” There was no friction because we complied with every demand. They trusted us but still they watched us as they were ordered to do.