Granny Dan

And when at last Christmas came, Danina couldn't wait to go to Tsarskoe Selo to stay with Nikolai in the little cottage that had begun to seem like their own. It would have been so simple for them if living there could have been a possible solution for them, but it wasn't. They could only be together, on borrowed time, for a few days, or weeks, now and then.

She attended the Czar's Christmas Dance with him. They did not give the grand balls they had before the war, but nonetheless managed to invite over a hundred friends.

Danina shone like a bright star in a gown the Czarina had given her as a gift. It was red velvet trimmed in white ermine, and she looked every bit as regal in it as the Czarina did in hers. Guests all over the room were commenting on how beautiful she was, how elegant, how talented, how gracious, and Nikolai beamed like a handsome prince as he stood beside her, holding her hand.

“I had fun tonight, didn't you?” She smiled as they rode back to the cottage after the party in his sled. They were to have lunch at the palace again the next day. It was a life she loved sharing with him, and she felt almost married to him, standing at his side at the dance. They had been together for nearly two years.

The only thing that had marred the evening at all were the small groups here and there, talking quietly about the echoed rumors of revolution. It seemed absurd, yet the unrest among the populace was exploding regularly now in the cities, and the Czar was still refusing to control it. He said that people had a right to express themselves, and it was good for them to let off steam. But there had been several riots in Moscow recently, and the army was growing increasingly worried. Her father and brother had mentioned it the last time they met.

Danina and Nikolai were talking about it as they walked into the cottage, and this time he admitted to her that he was slowly getting worried about the state of their world.

“I think it's a much greater problem than most of us realize,” he said with a worried frown. “And I think the Czar is being naive in refusing to stop them.” Or perhaps he couldn't. He had so many other things to worry about with the war, and the tremendous losses they had sustained in Poland and Galicia, riots in Moscow seemed insignificant compared to the war and what it had already cost them in men.

“The idea of a revolution seems so extreme,” Danina said quietly. “I can't even imagine something like that here. What would it mean?”

“Who knows? Maybe not much. Probably nothing. It's a few malcontents making noise. They may burn some houses, steal some horses and jewels, give the rich a spanking, and go back to the way things were. Probably nothing more serious than that. Russia is too big and too powerful to ever change. Although it could make life unpleasant for a while, and dangerous for the Czar and his family. Fortunately they're well protected.”

“If anything happens,” she admonished him, as he helped her take off her gown in their bedroom, “I want you to be careful.” She realized full well that it could be dangerous for him here.

“There is a simple solution to that problem,” he said, broaching the subject of Vermont again. He had promised not to ask her about it again until Christmas, and now the time had come again. And he had given it even more thought since they'd last discussed it in September. It was a recurring theme with Nikolai, and he still hoped to convince her of the wisdom of his plan.

“What solution?” she asked innocently, as she took off her earrings. He had just given them to her, and she loved them. They were pearls with tiny rubies hanging just beneath them, and they looked lovely on her.

“Vermont,” he reminded her. “There are no revolutions in America. They don't have a war on their doorstep. We could be happy there, Danina, and you know it.” She was running out of excuses not to discuss it with him, and she wanted to be with him, but there never seemed to be a time when she felt ready to leave the ballet, and do something quite so drastic as all that. They were comfortable with the life they shared, and perhaps one day his wife would agree to a divorce.

“Maybe one day,” she said wistfully. She wanted to be brave enough to go with him, and yet at the same time she still couldn't imagine abandoning their familiar world. She had an equal amount of elements pulling at her from both directions. Madame Markova and the ballet, and Nikolai and all he promised her. A shared life together in a new land, and the ballet, which was her obligation, her duty, her life.