3 January 1914
Tsarskoe Selo

Well, that’s over, and I’m glad of it. I hate dancing. I’d rather climb trees any day! My feet still hurt – especially the toe that clumsy Lieutenant Boris stepped on while he was trying to waltz. What an oaf.

Hundreds of people attended the ball – all the court society of St Petersburg, Papa says. If you piled all their jewels in a heap, they would weigh at least a ton.

Mama had a headache and left before midnight. Our little brother Alexei is feverish again, and Mama wanted to be at home with him. I wish I could have gone with her, but that would have upset Grandmother. She is already annoyed at Mama, I think.

Grandmother gave us each a diary as a keepsake of the ball. Olga and Tatiana and Mashka (that’s what we call our Marie) have begun pasting things in theirs – the invitation, the menu for the midnight supper, the program of music played by the orchestra, and my sisters’ dance cards signed by the officers who danced with them. (I did not collect my dancing partners’ signatures.)

It was very late when Papa had the sleigh drive us from Anitchkov Palace to board our train for the ride back to Tsarskoe Selo. He sipped tea while my sisters chattered all the way home. I could hardly keep my eyes open but pretended to be wide awake.