Alexis Nicolaïevitch was the centre of this united family, the focus of all its hopes and affections. His sisters worshipped him and he was his parents’ pride and joy. When he was well the palace was, as it were, transformed. Everyone and everything seemed bathed in sunshine. Endowed with a naturally happy disposition, he would have developed quite regularly and successfully had he not been kept back by his infirmity. Each of his crises meant weeks and sometimes months of the closest attention, and when the hæmorrhage had been heavy it was followed by a condition of general anæmia which made all hard work impossible for him, sometimes for a considerable period. Thus the interludes between attacks were all that were available, and, in spite of his quick brain, this made teaching a difficult matter. The Grand-Duchesses were charming--the picture of freshness and health. It would have been difficult to find four sisters with characters more dissimilar and yet so perfectly blended in an affection which did not exclude personal independence, and, in spite of contrasting temperaments, kept them a most united family. With the initials of their Christian names they had formed a composite Christian name, Otma, and under this common signature they frequently gave their presents or sent letters written by one of them on behalf of all. I am sure I shall be forgiven for allowing myself the pleasure of recording some personal memories here--memories which will enable me to recall these girls in all the bloom and spontaneous enthusiasms of their youth. I might almost say their childhood. For these were girls who fell victims to a dreadful fate at a time when others are blossoming into womanhood. The eldest, Olga Nicolaïevna, possessed a remarkably quick brain. She had good reasoning powers as well as initiative, a very independent manner, and a gift for swift and entertaining repartee. She gave me a certain amount of trouble at first, but our early skirmishes were soon succeeded by relations of frank cordiality. She picked up everything extremely quickly, and always managed to give an original turn to what she learned. I well remember how, in one of our first grammar lessons, when I was explaining the formation of the verbs and the use of the auxiliaries, she suddenly interrupted me with: “I see, monsieur. The auxiliaries are the servants of the verbs. It’s only poor ‘avoir’ which has to shift for itself.” She read a good deal apart from her lessons. When she grew older, every time I gave her a book I was very careful to indicate by notes in the margin the passages or chapters she was to leave out. I used to give her a summary of these. The reason I put forward was the difficulty of the text or the fact that it was uninteresting. An omission of mine cost me one of the most unpleasant moments in my professional career, but, thanks to the Czar’s presence of mind, the incident ended better than I could have hoped.