We were shocked to see how frail Mother looked when she finally emerged from her convalescence. It was an effort for her to walk the length of the hall and she was wheeled to the lift which took her to Alexei’s room. She permitted him to come down to the music room and lie on the sofa, or to amuse himself in the library with his electric trains. He built villages, fountains, churches out of blocks. We girls read to him or engaged him in games to keep him occupied. I can still see my brother in the blue nightshirt which he wore after his bath when he came down every evening before retiring. Mother took his emaciated hand and they went upstairs to hear his prayers. She had a tendency to overdo, hoping no one would suspect how much these illnesses of Alexei took out of her. It is true that bulletins had been issued telling of the serious condition of the Tsarevich but the nature of the illness had never been revealed to the people--that would be admitting hopelessness. When Alexei and Mother were well enough to travel we went down to the Crimea where the change and rest were always refreshing to both. These attacks of Alexei were hard on us. For one thing our education was disrupted. It was difficult for us to concentrate on anything other than our brother’s health. The shared sorrow welded us into a closer family and the realization of this brought a change in my life. Thoughts of self seemed empty; childish pleasures began to lose their charm. My life was now so bound up with the family that I could no longer be lighthearted and free as before. Reluctantly I realized I was taming down, through sorrow, not discipline. My childhood pastime of painting took a more serious turn. I even attempted to write imaginary stories about animals. Mother was so pleased with my efforts she sent one of these stories to Aunt Irene saying, “See what our little Nastia has done.” I now took a greater interest in music and hoped that by working hard I might sing as well as Mother or play like Olga. I loved Olga for her true kinship and often kissed her hand for her understanding of us younger sisters. A week or two was a long time for me to stick to anything. Again and again I would revert to my childhood spirit but each time with less of my former zest. My reputation of being a problem child persisted. People often asked, “Where does the little one, small in size, store so much, much energy? She has an endless supply of jokes and pranks.” Some enjoyed my humor as I could tell from the expression on their faces, and some did not.