We became insensitive to the new guards and were no longer annoyed by their overbearing conduct. Our worst anxiety was to get some news from Colonel Kobylinsky, but he did not appear; not in the morning, not in the afternoon, not the next day. What did all this mean? He had never stayed away so long. Finally the news came; our beloved Colonel had become ill and had been sent away just a few days before our nearing departure and was not permitted to say good-bye. We hoped our parents were not informed about this. It would add greatly to their troubled minds. The guards were now everywhere, even at the door of our bathroom. We never went alone to bathe, always Shura or Mlle. Schneider was with us. One morning Tatiana crossed the hall on her way to the dressing room. A guard followed her closely, though she was not at first aware of it. When she heard footsteps behind her, she turned back suddenly and bumped into Rodionov, thus crashing into the wall. He had something hard on his person which hit her breast, so that she was pained and frightened. She screamed. When we arrived she was trembling and ghastly pale. She did not get over the shock for some time. After this incident none of us dared go into the bathroom alone. Always Volkov, Mother’s old groom of the chamber, or Nagorny paced back and forth in the hall. From then on we assumed a mock respectfulness, hoping to shame these men and to arouse their conscience. We believed the only way we could hold them at bay was by appealing to their sense of honor. But the way they leered and chuckled gave us a feeling of hopelessness. Without my Father, Dr. Botkin, or Colonel Kobylinsky they might dare anything. May 6th, old style, was my Father’s birthday, his second during our captivity. It was distressing to think this was the first time in our lives we could not congratulate him. Marie told us later that Mother and Father wished to have a service in Ekaterinburg on that day, but no priest was permitted to come to the house. More than ever we were anxious to be on our way. The desire to be with our parents was above all else. Yet we wanted to do nothing which might harm our brother. The lack of letters and news from our family spelled tragic overtones. One or two letters did arrive from Dr. Botkin to his son Gleb and daughter Tatiana, and they managed to relay news to us. But these messages told little beyond the word “well.” That word told us they were alive but were so restricted they were unable to communicate with us. At last the river opened and the boats could navigate. Alexei, though far from well was able to sit up in a wheel chair. We hoped the trip might help him to get his strength more quickly, especially the thought that he was on the way to his Mother might prove a tonic. With this idea in mind we persuaded Dr. Derevenko to tell the Commandant that Alexei was able to travel. At once he was glad to comply with our wishes, since our condition was so wretched.