Anastasia Page #3

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Her eyes grew big as a child's.

But then, in the evening,

she brought me special things to eat.

- An orange, or some grapes.

- We can bring you much more.

But in another hospital I told other

stories, and they believed them, too.

Especially the one

where the train blew up.

We were too close

to where the mine was planted...

so when the train hit it, pieces of

metal fell like a shower of fireworks...

all about us.

The man beside me was killed,

and the man beside him, too.

But I was only wounded.

Oh. So that's how

you got those scars.

Yes, so it would seem.

I thought

you couldn't remember.

L- I can't, always. Things come and go.

- Like waves of mist.

- But look, to be her is what you want, what we want.

Even what

the royal family wants.

So I've heard before. All of it.

Say this, remember that.

You are, you are not.

I know you, I don't know you...

- Oh, I've heard it many times.

- Where?

- Bucharest, Berlin...

- Berlin?

China, I don't remember!

But the enthusiasm and

the promises, those I remember.

And then

when memory failed:

Disappointment, anger, dismissal!

Out in the street,

failure, fake, nobody!

There you're wrong. There will not

be failure this time. Not with me.

Now, listen. You want to know

who you are, don't you?

Oh, yes.

You want to find the family

to whom you belong, don't you?

Yes, yes.

By yourself, you are lost.

But with me, you will find yourself.

Oh, please, I...

I'm tired.

You know I am right. The album. Take

the chance! It's the only one you have.

Oh, I'm too tired to argue.

You don't have to do anything.

I will do it all.

Now, here. Look.

It's you on the deck

of your father's yacht.

- The Standart?

- The Standart?

- You know the name?

- It's written on the lifeboat.

Oh, yes. Now, here you are

with your family:

Your father the tsar, your mother,

your sisters, your little brother.

- My family.

- And here.

Look.

1913. The anniversary of

the House of Romanov. 300 years.

There they are on the balcony

of the Winter Palace:

And that little girl, there...

- that is you.

- Thousands kneeling.

Singing, "God Save the Tsar. "

- The people. Your people.

- Yes. Yes.

- You can see it, can't you?

- Yes, I can.

And now, may I present your staff:

Boris Andreivich Chernov.

Formerly of St. Petersburg.

Banker.

Piotr Ivanovich Petrovin. Former

student of the theological seminary.

Sergei Pavlovich Bounine...

General of the Tcherkess Regiment,

former aide- de- camp...

attached to the person of

His Imperial Majesty, Nicholas II...

Tsar of all Russia.

Then I...

I am Her Imperial Highness...

the Grand Duchess

Anastasia Nicolaevna.

Now, once more.

"Awakened in the middle of the night

and taken down to the cellar.

- "And then, without warning... "

- "... guards appeared in the doorway...

"and began firing.

- One fainted, shielded by the body of her sister. "

- Which sister?

- Was it Olga?

- Right.

Yes. A white dress.

Then darkness.

"One of the executioners

crashed down with his rifle.

"Later, two brothers were among

the guards that came into the cellar...

"to remove the dead.

- "One of the bodies moved.

- Hers.

"Hidden in a farm cart

under straw...

"wrapped in sheets

filled with snow for her fever.

"They fled across the country...

bribed guards with jewels

sewn into her blouse. "

- Skirt.

- Was it?

"And they made their way to... "

- I don't know. Balta.

- Balta.

And from there

across the Romanian border to...

Bucharest.

- And there?

- There?

There she died of heartbreak...

and was thrown into the sea...

to the strains of

an old Russian waltz.

It was all quite good

up to the end.

This icon. You're supposed

to have seen it before.

- Remember? Where was it?

- In my mother's bedroom.

She was very religious, and she

placed holy pictures everywhere.

- Right.

- And books, and albums...

just like these, scattered about,

overflowing the tables.

There was a sitting room between

the bedroom of my mother and my fa...

Oh, no, that was that little reading

room in the hospital. How silly.

- More coffee? She won't sleep.

- She hasn't got time.

I don't very much anyway,

but thank you.

All right.

- Where were we? Oh, yes. Your mother.

- Don't get excited.

But I know what I'm talking about!

We have exactly three days left.

Let us worry about

one thing at a time.

One thing at a time.

- All right, Piotr Ivanovich, I'll take over.

- I think she's very tired.

No, I've had my coffee. Besides, it

all helps to bring my memory back.

And maybe one memory

will convince someone.

Even if it's only me.

Where did you live

in the winter?

- The Winter Palace, St. Petersburg.

- Right. Spring?

Spring?

I don't remember.

- Tsarskoie Selo.

- Tsarskoie Selo.

- Summer?

- Peterhof. Livadia.

- Preferred for the sea air.

- Hunting seat.

- Spala. In Poland.

- Where?

- Piotr Ivanovich.

- And on the Baltic?

No luck, General.

The commit...

- In Moscow, you stayed...

... at the Kremlin.

Sergei Pavlovich, no. The committee

will not give us even one more day.

- You think she's ready?

- No.

- Of course, she thinks she is.

- Oh! Listen, she thinks she's Anastasia.

And the great Stanislavski once said,

when an actor believes he is...

- the character he's playing, fire him.

- It's a bit late for that.

It's a bit late for anything.

The eight days are finished.

The play is finished.

We are finished.

- The play is merely being replaced by a pantomime.

- Huh?

Our leading lady will be very weak,

exhausted, too sick to talk.

- With careful staging,

the committee will be satisfied.

And careful casting. Her Imperial

Highness will be too weak...

to see any more than,

let us say, six members.

- Why six?

- Three stupid enough to accept even you as Anastasia...

three important enough to spread

the news that she is Anastasia.

Your Highness, may I present

a few members of our colony here...

who, as I told you are anxious

to see you for just a moment.

His Excellency,

Count Ilia Feodorovich Bechmetieff...

and his brother,

Count Andreikovich Bechmetieff.

His Excellency,

Court Assessor Schischkin.

- Schischkin.

- What?

Your Imperial Highness.

His Excellency, Von Drivnitz.

- It's very rude to stare.

- Forgive me.

Difficult to say.

Madame de Lissenskaia.

Come closer. No.

You, please.

I think I know you. Were you not

a lady-in-waiting to my mother?

Many people know that,

I'm afraid.

I'm trying to remember more.

When I was a child, I used to watch

the faces of the ladies-in-waiting...

to see if they were wearing lip rouge...

my mother did not allow makeup, so I...

I was not mean, just...

just mischievous.

I used to report to her.

What was it my mother

used to call you?

Shura? No. Zina.

I'm sorry, it escaped my...

Nini. Yes, Nini.

Your Highness!

Your Imperial Highness!

- What's the matter? Don't you like my borscht?

- No.

Too bad. The General says

you have to eat it.

- She won't eat!

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