Father began to work, and even Mother, for the first time, cheerfully was willing to leave the house in the afternoon. She was wheeled in her chair into the garden. She sat under a tree near the brook, while the guards paced back and forth on the bridge. Mother seldom walked those days. We planted the seeds and watered the vegetable beds from a barrel. As I worked, I thought of the words in the beautiful Russian song which said: “The Christ had a garden, where many roses bloomed, He watered them thrice a day to make a wreath for himself.” Because of the demonstrations, we worked late in the day, often till 8:00 P.M. In the evening Father read to us while we were sewing or knitting. When the first green shoots appeared, we were thrilled with the thought of salads within a month. The seedlings grew into bushy plants. The blossoms became tiny beans. In another week or so we would have our first harvest from sixty luxuriant beds in all. Spring, which always seems to hold a special appeal for all Russians, was beautiful but sad for us. XV SUBJUGATION When the first days of July with their white nights were approaching, a time when night is much like day in those northern regions, when twilight spreads a kind of magic transparency in the distant sky and woods, we saw creeping figures with shining bayonets emerge from the bushes. They were watching the windows of the prisoners. I wish I did not love that great country with so much promise, whose soul lies in debris now and of which I cannot speak without the feeling of a heavy weight on my chest. Before the leaves came out, we withdrew to an area where we thought we could not be seen so easily. That led us to the greenhouses. We found them dreadfully neglected. No one had taken care of the plants. The gardeners had been discharged or put to work in some other capacity. Now many rare and valuable bushes surrounding the colonnades were cut down against everybody’s objection. The orders, we were told, came from Kerensky. Tears were in Father’s eyes to see such destruction. We realized that the iron fence which protected us from the outside was now our prison wall. The driveway was a source of fear. Even the bushes and the trees of our beloved park secreted spies who watched every move we made. Even though we were accustomed to isolation from the world by a cordon of police and military protection, being surrounded by unfriendly guards was indeed depressing. During the turbulent days, even the swans cried mournfully every morning because they knew we were in the palace, and they felt that something was wrong that we did not speak to them and feed them. Even these majestic birds must have known.... Our food now was ice-cold, more so than ever before. Our kitchens were in a separate building and the food was wheeled through the long tunnel in large carriers which had to be opened for inspection. Therefore the food cooled off before it reached our apartments.