Father read the Bible aloud, often starting on the page at which he opened the book. We girls had our tapestries, but the lack of yarn and the bad light caused us to give up working on them. Mother no longer sewed, her eyes being bad from the inadequate light of our lone candle. It was too much of a strain. Alexei no longer had his toy soldiers, the guards having seized them some time earlier. Now he passed many hours cutting out paper soldiers with his little friend Leonid--lining them up in formation on the squares of a chessboard. We sisters helped to design different uniforms and color them. Anything to help the boys forget the dreary hours. The guards leaned over the boys’ shoulders commenting on the play. Father wrote Yurovsky requesting a priest to come and hold a service. After a long debate with Dr. Botkin, one of the Commissars came at last to inform us that, on the next day, a priest would come to hold a service in the house, the first one in Ekaterinburg. Mother was ecstatic. We selected our choice icons and, with the help of our friends, we put up in the sitting room a small altar, a table covered with a hand-embroidered cloth. With the coming of the priest and the service a little light crept into the Ipatiev House. Just before the service began, Alexei’s bed was brought into the room. He had been suffering from the cold as well as from swollen hands and legs partially paralyzed from his knees down. Yurovsky leered at us from one corner of the room but we ignored him. The priest’s voice trembled. He was upset for fear of making a mistake, probably knowing the fate of Father Vassiliev in Tobolsk. It was an inspirational day; the simple ritual, the chanting, the Communion and its consummation, our lips kissed the cross, and our souls feasted on the Blessed Bread. Exaltation swept through us and we soared to an enveloping oneness with God. Father read the Holy Scripture and we all sang. What a day it was! After the service Mother said: “The priest and the deacon seemed so sad. Priests are in great danger these days. I pray they get into no trouble for coming to the house.” Did the guards feel as we felt that day? They did not interfere with our taking Holy Communion. God’s hand was upon us and we felt safer. The world of prison and persecution was not real. We had glimpsed the real world, that world where our souls were filled and a new life flowed into our withering flesh. Mother kept repeating: “The Communion has been such a healer.”