Interlude
Anastasia:
I know that I’ll never really be able to go home. In the first place, even if we win, what was once home to me will be Tatiana’s home and I would be, at most, a welcome guest. But in the second place, everything will have changed; Russia and the Empire will have changed. Even the people will have been changed.
I suppose I will have changed, too. So, no, no going back “home” for me.
But maybe I can make a new home somewhere. Maybe. After the needs of the Empire and the War cause my sister to inflict some suitable husband on me. Maybe. If I can stand the idea of a home and a husband when that husband will surely have at least one mistress to entertain him.
Could I stand having a husband I do not love? I don’t know; I don’t even know what love is. Well . . . girls talk. I know the mechanics of the thing. Sort of. But I have no idea of how it feels in the heart.
I wish Olga were still here. She could have told me.
I don’t really know how to do anything. Yes, yes; I am only seventeen and not expected to know much. But, for example, Tatiana is going to want me to give speeches someday. I don’t know how to give a speech. The very thought terrifies me. And that terror makes it very likely I will not be able to do it.
I feel so useless most of the time. Indeed, I cherish the little jobs Tatiana, our “Governess,” gives me, from time to time, because they make me feel useful and alive. Yes, even if those things are only sewing and cleaning and carrying the occasional message.
I would like, someday, to have grown and grown up and to be useful all the time, employed all the time. And good at what it is I am doing.