Easter Day 1914

Last night, the sophisticated Romanov grand duchesses and all of Papa’s and Mama’s guests crowded into the silent, darkened church. At midnight, the bishop knocked loudly on the door of the church and shouted, “Christ is risen!” and the crowd roared back, “He is truly risen!” The bishop entered carrying three huge candles, from which the priests lit their candles and passed the flame to ours, until hundreds of candles flickered. Mama’s face glowed with joy, and so did my sisters’, but I was having trouble with my garters and expected my stockings to fall down around my ankles. So, the only glow from me was my red face.

After the service we came back for a wonderful feast. Lent is over, so we can eat all those things we weren’t allowed for the past forty days. The best is the paskha, sweetened cottage cheese mixed with candied fruits and nuts, then baked in a mold shaped like a flowerpot. I told Olga I could eat paskha every day, and she said that if I did I would soon look like paskha (like a flowerpot, she means). She is rotten, and to get back at her, I told her I know she secretly tried some of Dunyasha’s rouge on her lips. She grew quite red in the face, so I know she probably had. Mama does not allow anyone to wear rouge.