Nicolaïevitch’s studies and was also bad for his health. The impressions he gained there were too numerous and exciting for so delicate a nature as his. He became nervous, fretful, and incapable of useful work. I told the Czar what I thought. He admitted that my objections were well founded, but suggested that these drawbacks were compensated for by the fact that his son was losing his timidity and natural wildness, and that the sight of all the misery he had witnessed would give him a salutary horror of war for the rest of his life. But the longer we stayed at the front the stronger was my conviction that it was doing the Czarevitch a lot of harm. My position was becoming difficult, and on two or three occasions I had to take strong steps with the boy. I had an idea that the Czar did not entirely approve, and did not back me up as much as he might have done. As I was extremely tired by my work in the last three years--I had had no holiday since September, 1913--I decided to ask for a few weeks’ leave. My colleague, M. Petroff, came to take my place, and I left General Headquarters on July 14th. As soon as I arrived at Tsarskoïe-Selo the Czarina summoned me, and I had a long talk with her, in the course of which I tried to show the grave disadvantages for Alexis Nicolaïevitch of his long visits to the front. She replied that the Czar and herself quite realised them, but thought that it was better to sacrifice their son’s education temporarily, even at the risk of injuring his health, than to deprive him of the other benefits he was deriving from his stay at Mohileff. With a candour which utterly amazed me she said that all his life the Czar had suffered terribly from his natural timidity and from the fact that as he had been kept too much in the background he had found himself badly prepared for the duties of a ruler on the sudden death of Alexander III. The Czar had vowed to avoid the same mistakes in the education of his son. I realised that I had come up against a considered decision, and was not likely to secure any modification. All the same, it was agreed that Alexis Nicolaïevitch’s lessons should be resumed on a more regular plan at the end of September, and that I should receive some assistance in my work. When our conversation was over the Czarina made me stay behind to dinner. I was the only guest that evening. After the meal we went out on the terrace. It was a beautiful summer evening, warm and still. Her Majesty was stretched on a sofa, and she and two of her daughters were knitting woollen clothing for the soldiers. The two other Grand-Duchesses were sewing. Alexis Nicolaïevitch was naturally the principal topic of conversation. They never tired of asking me what he did and said. I spent an hour thus in this homely and quiet circle, suddenly introduced into the intimacy of that family life which etiquette had forbidden me from entering, save in this casual and rare fashion. * * * * *