Sunday morning, July 14th, arrived and as we assembled in our room, Yurovsky came in and asked if we were ready. “Right, we are,” said Father. One of us sisters wheeled Alexei’s chair into the room. He gazed happily around with a greeting to the little group of a few friends who waited for us to enter the big room. However, a mistake had been made in this service. In his note to Yurovsky, Father had requested a service called “Obiednya” at which Communion is administered. We were all surprised to find that “Obiednitsa” was being conducted at which no Communion is administered. It is a service that is held for the dead. Father asked Dr. Botkin to check with Yurovsky, because he had requested a Communion. Yurovsky motioned to the priest, saying, “A Communion is requested.” Evidently Yurovsky knew that the service for the dead was meant for our own funeral service. No doubt Father must have known that the tragedy was near because he requested the Communion. While the priest made his preparations and covered the wine chalice with a fine embroidered cloth, Yurovsky made an attempt to take the chalice from him to see what was in it. Father Storozhev jerked the chalice away and in a trembling voice shouted, “I will not let you touch this Holy Sacrament with your hands.” The priest stood some distance from us, since we were not permitted to have confession in the usual way. He raised the cross and said, “God shall forgive your sins.” We went to our knees in tears as Yurovsky stood aside watching us. We sisters were weeping throughout the entire service, and, as our hearts were only human, we could not chant during this service. We arose; the priest held the cloth over the chalice and administered the Holy Communion to us, while the deacon sang the creed. Father Storozhev had brought the usual _prosphora_--the small biscuit which is given to each communicant--but Yurovsky insisted on breaking each of these into pieces to make sure there was nothing hidden in them. Dr. Botkin and others who until now had maintained their composure broke down. A napkin was brought and the _prosphora_ was broken into pieces by the priest, and the service was concluded. In this dimly-lighted room a rite so divine and profound in our moment of solitude gave us a secret hope in our hearts. After the service Father kissed on both cheeks, according to Russian custom, the few remaining friends--Dr. Botkin, Trup, Kharitonov and the little Leonid. Mother and we sisters kissed Anna Demidova, our faithful maid. Mother gave her hand to Dr. Botkin; he bowed and kissed her fingertips. All noticed that on his face was a strange expression. He was nervous after hearing the prophetic words being sung “Peace to the Soul.” He kissed us children on both cheeks, while tears fell from his eyes and remained between his glasses and the bags beneath his eyes.