Frequently the guards asked Olga to play the balalaika or the piano, for their amusement. Sometimes she played her own compositions. Father could but consent so long as the pieces were not construed to have a double meaning. Whatever the guards ordered we complied with, thankful for an occasional moment when they occupied themselves with something constructive. But when they insisted that Olga sing “We Abandon the Old Regime,” she stood up and in a firm tone said, “I will not do it, even if you kill me.” Surprised they were at her courage. Once when she played _Andante Contabule_ by Tchaikovsky, they screamed “No” at the top of their voices. “It is sad, play something else, please.” Then she played a war song, “He Died in the War Hospital.” “No, no, please stop it; it is sad too, play something else.” Cheerfulness they were seeking at the hands of those who long ago had forgotten the meaning of a happy mood. Father always stood at the doorway when anyone of us played or sang for them. But Mother was never left alone. This habit we had formed at Tsarskoe Selo. No matter what we did one of us remained with her. It had become a regular thing to search our quarters, not so much for valuables, since by now they had already taken an inventory of them, as for possible means of escape. Each day there was a fresh excuse. They constantly suspected us of having something incriminating. They heard that we had guns hidden, they would say. No matter what the answer was, a whole troop of them would stalk in. Each day’s experience sharpened our detective powers. We could see without looking. Every time they stole we sensed it. We saw them take our silver spoons, pencils, soap and other articles. They removed everything they saw and slipped them up their sleeves. They took apart a picture with a heavy enamel frame with the excuse that the frame might have something hidden in it. Underneath they found a photograph of Mother’s beloved brother Ernest. With all the persecution she had feared to display her brother’s photograph. So she covered it with one of our pictures. They said nothing. Even we had not known that her brother’s picture was hidden underneath. They also took a gold chain with an icon which hung over Alexei’s bed. We never made any effort to stop them, nor did we give any sign that we saw. We ignored their thievery and curiosity since Father said: “We must not let them know how much they annoy us; soon they will grow tired and leave us alone.”