Ballerup, Denmark, Wednesday, 1 September 1948
King Petar considered the situation in which he found himself enmeshed with a combination of distaste and fascination. The days after their arrival in Copenhagen on the previous Sunday had been filled with the expected rounds of official receptions and meetings – mere formalities in his own mind – but now he found himself in a limousine, venturing into the Danish countryside, all thanks to the intrigues of his prime minister.
“Your Majesty seems indifferent to this part of our journey?” It was his chief equerry, Adem Čejvan, who sat across from him, alongside Sven Lasta, page and bodyguard. When he had heard Karasec’s ideas for an informal visit to the home of Grand Duchess Olga Alexandrovna he had insisted that the visit be informal. Besides the driver, there was but the three of them.
Petar sighed. “Not indifferent, merely wondering what our hosts must be thinking; I suppose that our hosts could not refuse outright, but I am certain that Grand Duchess Olga will not appreciate us overstaying any welcome.”
They drove on, and at last came to the farmstead that was the home to the daughter of the Emperor Alexander III; the formalities of reception were carried out, though with little pomp and less ceremony. In effect, Petar was incognito for the visit, which helped to thaw its chilliness. As Karasec had no doubt hoped, several of the younger Romanovs were present, spending their summer vacations with their aunt.
There was Grigoriy Vasiliyev Smirnov, son of Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna; a subaltern in the French Foreign Legion, he had in tow two of his cousins, the young eighteen-year old Pavel Alexeiv and even younger Natasha Alexeva, children of the Tsarevitch Alexei Nikolaevich. He also was chaperoning the daughter of his aunt Olga Nikolaevna, the twenty-year old Xenia Petrova Baranova.
Upon their introduction Petar felt intrigued by her intelligent, bright blue eyes, and the clarity of her expression; here was no pampered princess but someone whose outlook seemed to match his own. He firmly kept his thoughts in check, as first impressions can often be mistaken – and their visit to Ballerup would last but a few hours. Nevertheless, by the end of it, Čejvan noted that the king’s mood had improved perceptibly, and he no longer begrudged the mission that he had been sent upon.