Chapter 2

Chapter Two: The Woman Who Said No

Berlin, early 1922

The first thing that changed in the life of a person who had no name was not his past.

but the way others called him.

---

"How many times do I have to tell you? She looks like her!"

Clara put the photograph on the table in front of Nicolas von Schwabe.

She had left the institution weeks before, but the woman's face had not left her.

Von Schwabe studied the photograph for a long time.

"Have you seen the Tsar's daughters before?"

"No."

"Then it's the photographs that speak, not you."

"And have you seen them?"

He fell silent.

Then he pulled the photograph closer and said in a low voice:

"I know a woman who served the Empress. If she says it isn't her, will you be quiet and forget it?"

"If she says it isn't her, I'll be at ease."

"And if she says it is her?"

Clara did not answer.

---

In a small room at Dalldorf Asylum, Fräulein Unbekannt (The Unknown Miss) sat on the edge of the bed, trying to thread a needle.

The Nurse came in and stood watching her.

"Did Clara say anything to you before she left?"

"She said a name."

"What name?"

"It doesn't matter."

The woman put the needle on the table and went back to gathering the cloth.

"You've been with that cloth fragment since morning."

"It has a small tear."

"Your hand is shaking."

"It's cold."

"The room is warm."

"Not enough."

The Nurse sat down opposite her.

"We have visitors today."

The woman's fingers stopped.

"Visitors for whom?"

"For you."

"I don't know anyone."

"They say they might know you."

The woman raised her eyes, and for the first time something like fear showed on her face.

"And if I don't want to?"

"No one will force you."

She was silent for a moment.

"All right. But stay with me."

---

Baroness Sophie Buxhoeveden entered in a dark coat and a simple hat, and did not come forward.

She stood at the door, looking.

A pale face. Hair pulled back. Two hands holding a small cloth fragment.

"Good morning."

"Good morning."

The Baroness sat opposite her. She did not begin with questions. She looked at the face, then at the hands, then at the face again.

"Is there something on my face?"

"No. They told me I might know you."

"And do you know me?"

"What is your name?"

The woman smiled a small smile.

"That's the first question they ask me every day."

"And your answer?"

"The same answer."

The Baroness waited, then said:

"My name is Sophie Buxhoeveden. I served Empress Alexandra, and I knew her daughters."

The woman's eyes dropped to the cloth fragment.

"All right."

"There are people who think you are Tatiana."

"I've heard."

"And you?"

The woman raised her head.

"And what do you think?"

"I came to listen."

"And if I have nothing to say?"

"I want to hear even the silence."

The Baroness reached into her bag, took out a small photograph, and put it on the table.

"Do you know this one?"

The woman looked and did not touch the photograph.

"Tatiana."

"How did you know?"

"From the newspapers."

"Look at it properly."

This time she picked it up. She studied the eyes and the neat hair, then put it back.

"Did she love you?"

The Baroness paused.

"What?"

"Tatiana. Did she love you?"

"She was a kind girl."

"That's not what I asked you."

The Baroness was silent. After a moment, she said in a low voice:

"I remember her."

She did not know whether the woman had read her, or remembered her, or had hit upon it by chance.

---

After about an hour, the Baroness stood up.

"May I speak with you for a moment?"

"No."

The Baroness turned.

"If you have something to say about me, say it here."

The Nurse intervened:

"Dear..."

"This concerns me."

Silence fell.

The Baroness said:

"I do not think you are Tatiana."

The woman's face did not change.

"All right."

"I did not recognize you."

"I understand."

The Baroness waited for another reply. None came.

"I know this talk may upset you."

"Why would it upset me?"

"Because people are linking your name with the family."

"People, not me."

The Baroness stood slowly and took her bag.

At the door she heard her:

"May I ask one last question?"

"Go ahead."

"If one of them really did survive... what would you do?"

"I need proof."

"All right."

The Baroness went out, not knowing whether the woman's answer was contentment or disappointment.

---

In the corridor, von Schwabe was waiting.

"Well?"

"It isn't her."

"The resemblance..."

"War changes features, but not everything changes."

He fell silent.

"And don't let your wish for a survivor make you see something that isn't there."

Then she went on.

He remained looking at the closed door. The question that occupied him was not whether she resembled Tatiana.

but why she did not say clearly who she was.

---

At night, the Nurse came back and found the woman finishing sewing the cloth fragment.

"She said she doesn't know you."

"I heard."

"Are you upset?"

"No."

"Why didn't you tell her your name?"

The woman did not raise her head.

"Because they all ask the same question, and no one wants to hear its answer."

"And what is your answer?"

She raised her head. For a moment it seemed she would speak.

Then she returned her gaze to the cloth fragment.

"Let's finish this cloth fragment first."

---

Days later, Clara sat by the window leafing through the same magazine.

She was no longer looking for Tatiana.

She was looking at another girl in the photograph. The youngest. The one standing at the end of the row, with stubborn eyes.

She said to herself in a voice barely audible:

"What if I was wrong about the name?"

End of Chapter Two

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