Free Angel on the Square by Gloria Whelan Page A

believe you. Why ever would he want to do that?” I asked. I dreaded having to hear Misha start in on his criticism of the Tsar.
    “It keeps Austria busy and weakens her,” Misha said. “The Tsar doesn’t want the armies of Germany and Austria nipping at his heels. He wants them facing south toward Serbia and not north toward Russia. The Tsar knows Russia is not prepared for another war.”
    “Misha,” I scolded, “you have only just come home and already you are saying nasty things about the Tsar. You are ruining our reunion, and you will get into trouble for saying such things.” I wanted to be loyal to the Tsar, yet it was hard to make myself believe that Misha would invent such things.
    Misha’s voice had been light and teasing. Suddenly he became solemn. “You are right when you say it is dangerous to say such things. The Tsar is cracking down on anyone who opposes him. It was one thing when he exiled hotheads like Lenin and Stalin. They only want to stir up trouble. Lenin would love to see a war between Russia and Austria. But now one of my close friends from the university has been sent off to Siberia. If there is a war, the Tsar will declare anyone who opposes him a traitor to Russia and have him shot.”
    I was close to tears. “How can you say such things, Misha? I see you for the first time in months, and you spoil everything with your gloomy imaginings. I didn’thear a word about war at the Alexander Palace, and I saw the Tsar nearly every day.”
    “Be sensible, Katya. Do you imagine the Tsar sits at the tea table and asks his daughters and their friend if he should sign a treaty with France or England? Or if he should deploy a division of his army here or there?”
    When he saw the crushed look on my face, Misha relented. “Forgive me, Katya. You are right. I should not be talking about such things. It is only that I can’t discuss them at the military academy, or they would throw me out.” Suddenly he grinned. “That would not be so bad. The only thing that keeps me from it is that the Grand Duke Nikolai would have me shot, which would make your mama cry. You, no doubt, would rejoice.”
    After that, Misha was in a good humor, and the week of his vacation became very pleasant. He took me to see a play by the great writer Chekhov, and he bought me a box of chocolates to keep me awake, foron the stage nothing much went on except talk. Much better, we went to the ballet to see The Nutcracker . I had played some of the music on the piano. Afterward he took me to a fashionable café on the Nevsky and bought me as much cake as I could eat.
    It was only because I had the reunion with the imperial family and the voyage on their yacht to look forward to that I could bear to part with Misha. As we said good-bye, I begged him, “Promise to let your hair grow again.”
    “Yes, yes, I will tell my commanding officer that my cousin respectfully requests a return of my charming curls, and he will certainly make an exception for me.” And so, laughing, we parted.
     
    In July Mama and I readied ourselves to join the Tsar and his family aboard the imperial yacht. The yacht, one of many the Tsar owned, was the size of a small village and so large I did not see how it could float. It was festooned with scores of bright flags andpennants. Alexei could explain the meaning of nearly every one.
    Our staterooms were more comfortable than our bedrooms in the palace, and each one had a round porthole so that the Baltic Sea looked in at us like a great watery eye. The decks were as wide as streets. Lounge chairs with crisp white linen covers were set out on the decks. There was even a billiard room. In the dining room sailors took over the duties of footmen. Because of their military discipline they were more skillful and deft than footmen, especially when the yacht rolled and they had to catch sliding dishes.
    A navy band played music in the evenings, and at teatime a group of old men played balalaikas. The balalaika