In any case, in Vienna I went to school and studied for a year and a half, and distinguished myself at school in a very shameful way – in general, school was not good for me in terms of honor and glory. I was once taken to a zoological garden, and, unfortunately, the next day we were given a class paper on the topic of "what do you want to be in life". And, of course, little Austrian women wrote all sorts of virtuous things: one wanted to be an engineer, another a doctor, a third something else; and I was so inspired by what I had seen the day before that I wrote – even with a wonderful illustration from my point of view – a cool paper on the topic: "I would like to be a monkey". The next day I came to the school with the hope that my creative talents would be appreciated. And the teacher came into the classroom and said: "Look, I got one of the extraordinary works." I got up, and then I was scolded that "it is really clear that the Russian barbarian, the savage, could not find anything better than to return to the bosom of nature," and so on and so forth.

     These are the main events from school life there. Two years ago I went back to Vienna for the first time and spoke radio tapes; and the person who made the recording asked me if I had ever been to Vienna. "Yes." - "And what did you do then?" - "I was at school." – "Where?" – "In such-and-such"... It turned out that we were classmates, after fifty years of age, we met; Well, of course, they did not recognize each other, and the acquaintance did not go further.

     And what languages have you spoken since childhood?

     From childhood I was forced to speak Russian and French; I spoke Russian with my father, French with my grandmother, and both languages with my mother. And the only thing that was forbidden was to mix tongues, it was persecuted very strictly, and I was just not used to it. Well, he spoke Persian fluently. This, of course, I forgot during the three or four years when we left Persia, but it is interesting that when I later lived in a boarding school and in my dreams I talked, dreamed and spoke, I spoke Persian, whereas in reality I could no longer pronounce a sound and could not understand a single word. It is curious how it remained somewhere in the subconscious, while it was completely erased from consciousness. Then German: I was taught to pronounce German in German at an early age, it helped a lot and now it helps. On good days, I generally have less accent in German than in French. When you don't speak a language for a year, then you can't do anything. But the most remarkable compliment I received not long ago about my German was from the Cardinal of Cologne, who was blind; when I met him, we talked and he said to me: "Can I ask you an immodest question?" "How did you, a German, become Orthodox?" I turned up my nose, because a blind person is mostly sensitive to sound. But it was a good day, just because on more tired days I don't always speak so well, but I can, when it happens... Spanish – I read; Italian is not a problem at all; Dutch is easy, because it is terribly similar to the German language of the XII-XIII centuries. When my head is completely dull, I read German poems of this era to relax.

     And when you were little, did you have any responsibilities, or just grew up as you grew?

     Oh no! First of all, nothing unreasonable was demanded of me, that is, I never had the feeling that they were demanding, because parents are big and strong and therefore can break a child. But on the other hand, if something was said, they never retreated. And – I don't remember this, my mother told me later – she once told me something, I resisted; I was told that it would be so, and I rolled on the floor for two hours, gnawing on the carpet and screaming with indignation, despair and anger, and my mother sat down in an armchair in the room, took a book and read, waiting for me to finish. The nurse came several times: "Lady, the child will tear up!" And my mother said: Nanny, go away.. When I finished, I screamed, she said: Well, have you finished? Now do what you have been told... It was an absolute principle.

     And then the principle of upbringing was that I had to form my own convictions in due time, but I had to grow up to be a completely truthful and honest person, and therefore I was never given a reason to lie or hide, because I was not persecuted. For example, I could have been punished, but it always made sense, I did not have to have a secret life, as sometimes happens when children are treated excessively harshly or unfairly: they simply begin to lie and arrange their lives differently.

     We had a common life; They demanded responsibility from me – for example, from early childhood I cleaned my room: I made my bed, cleaned after myself. The only thing I was never taught was to clean shoes, and it was only later, during the war, that I found a spiritual reason not to do so, when I read the phrase in Curé d'Ars that wax for shoes is the same as cosmetics for a woman, and I was terribly glad that I now had an excuse. You know, every child has some things that he finds terribly boring. I always found it terribly boring to wipe the dust and clean my shoes. Now I have learned to do both. Well, then we did all the housework together, and exactly together: not just "go and do it, and I'll read", but "let's wash the dishes", "let's do this or that", and I was taught as if.

     Is it still in Persia?

     No, then, as far as I remember, there was a completely free life: a large garden at the embassy estate, a donkey - nothing, in general, was required. Except for order: I would never have been allowed to go for a walk if I hadn't cleaned up books or toys, or left the room in disarray – it was unthinkable.

     And now I live like this; for example, I remove the vestments and the altar after each service, even if there is only an hour and a half between the services of the Bringing out of the Shroud and the Burial, I put everything away. Precisely on the basis that at the moment when something is finished, it should be as finished as if, on the one hand, nothing had happened, and on the other hand, everything can be started again: it helps to live so much!, For example, I was taught to prepare everything for tomorrow in the evening. My father used to say: I have a good life, because I have a servant Boris, who will fold everything in the evening, clean his shoes, cook everything, and in the morning Boris Eduardovich will get up - he has nothing to do.

     Did you spoil yourself as a little girl?

     They were affectionate, but not pampered - in the sense that it did not come at the expense of order, discipline or upbringing. In addition, I was taught from childhood to appreciate small, small things; and when emigration began, then it was especially important to value, say, one object; One thing was a miracle, it was a joy, and it could be appreciated for years. For example, some tin soldier or some book – they lived with them for months, sometimes years, and for this I am very grateful, because I know how to rejoice at the smallest thing at the moment when it comes, and never devalue it. Gifts were made, but not drowned in gifts, even when there was an opportunity, so that the eyes did not run away so that you could rejoice at one thing. At Christmas, I once received as a gift – I still remember it – a small Russian tricolor flag made of silk; And I carried this flag so much, I still somehow feel it at hand when I stroked it, this very silk, its tricolor composition. Then they explained to me what it meant, that this was our Russian flag: Russian snows, Russian seas, Russian blood – and it remained with me: snow-white snow, blue waters and Russian blood.

     In France, when we got there with my parents, it was quite difficult to live. My mother worked, she knew languages, and they lived very differently, in particular, all in different parts of the city. I was sent to live in a very, I would say, difficult school; it was a school on the outskirts of Paris, in the slums, where the police did not go at night, starting at dusk, because they were slaughtered there. And, of course, the boys who were at school were from there, and it was extremely difficult for me at first; I just didn't know how to fight then and I didn't know how to be beaten. I was beaten mercilessly - in general, it was considered normal that a newcomer was beaten during the first year until he learned to defend himself. Therefore, you could be beaten to the point that you would be taken to the hospital, in front of the teacher's eyes. I remember once I rushed out of the crowd, rushed to the teacher, crying out for protection – he just pushed me away with his foot and said: Don't complain! And at night, for example, it was forbidden to go to the toilet, because it interfered with the warden's sleep. And you had to crawl silently out of bed, crawl under the other beds to the door, manage to open the door silently, and so on; For this, the warden himself was beaten.