Chapter 03

When I had turned three years old, my mother, who was once a cheerful flower, withered, and her countenance darkened with sadness and depression. She had lost a child, giving birth to a stillborn baby. My father didn't know what to do, how to face the grief and support my mother simultaneously. It fell upon me, her sweetest child, to try to alleviate her sorrow.

I walked with my little legs towards a wide mahogany door. There, seated in a dark corner on a chair, was my mother, gazing out of the window at the somber landscape of St. Petersburg, draped in a pristine white shawl that covered everything within sight.

"Mommy, Alex came to hug you and tell you that you're the best mother in the world and the most beautiful," I said softly.

She looked at me with watery eyes and said, "Come here, my little one."

I sat on her lap, just listening to her cry and embracing her for hours. When she finally stopped, she ran her hand through my hair and looked into my eyes.

I said, "Everything will be alright, Mommy."

She kissed my forehead and said, "What mischief did my little one get into today? Tell Mommy."

I gave her my brightest and most charming smile and began recounting my day to her. I told her about playing with my sister Maria in the morning, the pranks I played on the maids looking up from under her skirts, and my studies with Professor Vasily.

Her laughter made the room come alive, casting a magical spell over the somber atmosphere. I knew that my words may have seemed trivial, but no one can truly understand the pain of losing a child, sometimes, people simply crave to feel loved and comforted, to know that they are not alone. The doctors advised my father to take us on a trip to Berlin, to seek a change of scenery and for my mother to find solace in the company of her relatives.

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We arrived in Berlin towards the end of the year 1820. Prussia, although not overly impressive yet, was further along in its industrial revolution compared to St. Petersburg, where factories were scarce.

My German relatives were rather aloof and cold towards my father, my sister, and me. I believe they harbored many prejudices. In the eyes of most of Europe, we Russians were seen as barbarians from cold and desolate lands, religious fanatics, but it was merely fear.

Russians were often used in many bedtime stories to make naughty children quiet down and go to sleep. It was amusing to see the other children tremble at the sight of me, acting arrogantly and speaking with a Russian accent, perhaps in the future, this could be an interesting asset, I could captivate many hearts with a charming smile and a Russian accent, after all, what girl doesn't like a bad boy?

We spent a few months in Berlin, but I couldn't expand my networking much. There were no children in Charlottenburg Palace, and the children who visited there came only once, as their parents got acquainted with a Russian prince.