Outside there was the constant sound of footsteps on the wooden sidewalk. Now that the snow had begun to melt, the garden was full of slush. Soon we were not allowed to go out at all. We waited anxiously for Alexei to get well and for the ice to melt on the river. Then we received a letter, ominously brief. It said the family had halted at Ekaterinburg. They were safe, but there was no detailed explanation. All three of them were accommodated in one room. Marie slept on the floor. We were grateful that Father, in particular, had not been taken to Moscow where he would have met a disastrous end, because he would never have agreed to sign a treaty harmful to his country. We knew of Ekaterinburg from Father and General Tatishchev. We had passed around the city on the train en route to Tiumen the summer before. Coincidentally the founder of Ekaterinburg was an ancestor of General Tatishchev who had dedicated the name Ekaterinburg to the Empress Catherine the Great. General Tatishchev was destined to be shot in his ancestor’s city of Ekaterinburg years afterwards. My Father had many friends and relatives interested in different business enterprises. The Imperial family owned the stone cutting works and had other commercial operations. Close friends of ours had extensive businesses in this region. Knowing this vicinity General Tatishchev spent several evenings telling us about the city, where two months later my family, and he as well, were destined to be murdered. Alexei was nearly well but the river was still not open for navigation. Any day, however, the conditions would be right for our departure. The Commandant ordered Dr. Derevenko to let him know the minute the boy would be able to travel. Once more our house was searched. They took many of Father’s belongings. The men who guarded us at this time were the most vicious we had had. They hurled obscene words at us, then laughed at our flushed faces. Rodionov, the new commissar, was a wild bloodthirsty Latvian, always insulting. He took several pieces of our valuable possessions as souvenirs. Now almost all our guards were completely new and strange to us. The only friendly ones who remained were those who, thanks to Colonel Kobylinsky, were posted at each door. They were old guards and saw to it that only his own men could enter our rooms. We received orders not to lock our doors at night: our last bulwark of privacy was removed. On the pretense of finding out whether we were asleep, at any time of night, a guard without knocking or asking for permission was free to enter our bedrooms and other rooms. Now that Marie was gone, we three sisters remained in the same corner bedroom. Being frightened, we took turns guarding our room at night. While the other two slept, one of us sat up in bed on watch, wrapped in a blanket. When the floors creaked, we knew that the guard was approaching, and the one on watch would lie down pretending to be asleep.