By nature I enjoyed the rough and tumble, while being a lady meant being dignified, sewing, practicing on the piano, in general following in the footsteps of Olga and Tatiana. I would much rather have played the kind of games that Alexei enjoyed. Marie did not like these games at all. She preferred dolls, which I thought were not half as much fun as shooting off pop guns. I often held the gun while Alexei slid down the toboggan slide held on the lap of his attendant Derevenko or his assistant Nagorny.
The park surrounding our home at Tsarskoe Selo lent itself to my eager desire for exploring the world around me, although even this could not satisfy my curiosity about that part of the world which lay beyond the fence. One afternoon I found an owl opposite the balcony in the garden. I had seen something flying which fell to the ground. When I ran to it I found an owl which did not move. I wanted to pick it up, but was told it was bad luck to do so. In spite of this advice, I picked up the bird and stroked and fed it. In a short time it became a real pet so it could even recognize my step. It always stayed nearby, hopping about in a small area, though it didn’t seem to be hurt. Whenever it heard me, it would fly up and sit on the rail of the balcony. While the owl was perched there, it seemed to stare at me and I could not resist walking around, fascinated by its twisting neck and staring eyes which apparently followed my movements.
Most of the time I was content to wander through our fairyland park with my sisters and brother. Its beauty was overwhelming with fine vistas embracing gardens, ravines, lakes and even islands. We often sailed our toy boats on the lake or rowed Alexei in a boat Sometimes we sat on shore watching the varied reflections on the surface of the lake. These might be reflections of the Feodorovsky Sobor with its golden cupola, or again a glimpse of the luxuriant tree tops, or the rapidly changing cloud formations. On the lake the swans glided back and forth in graceful splendor, but, when they came near our shores, with one stroke they erased all the pictures before our eyes.
These swans were my special pets. I usually carried bread to throw to them. One day in a mischievous mood, I made them think I had come to feed them. When they swam toward me expectantly, I ran away. I was suddenly thrown to the ground, and the largest of the swans with his wings spread wide stood over me. He began to beat me with his wings. My screams brought help from one of the guards, who drove off the swan. When I stopped sobbing I had not lost my love for the swans, but I had learned I could not tease them.
Father found time to visit us at play every day, often only for a few minutes, but he made us happy with these visits. Sometimes he watched us as we went down the slide which had been installed in a large room on the ground floor. He whistled as each child took her turn and the rest of us jumped up and down expressing delight.
Several times, as a great treat, we children were permitted to take our bath in Father’s big, sunken tile tub, large enough for one to swim several strokes. After the bath we romped over the huge couch in Father’s dressing room, watching the flames dance in the fireplace.
Mother called Father’s study “the forbidden land.” We children were not allowed to enter it, which made me rather curious about it. I often ran down the hall, hoping that I would find a way to get into the study, but there was always someone who would send me back. If I could have found out what Father did there, I would have been satisfied. One day I managed to slip through the narrow passage of his dressing room and opened the door leading into his study. I was breathless with excitement, but kept quiet. I was about to open the door for a tiny peek, to see if Father were there, when I heard footsteps. I decided to retreat quietly as if I had gotten there by mistake. But as I backed out I had moved too quickly and gone too far. I rolled down several steps right into the middle of Father’s sunken tub. Fortunately I was not hurt, but my feelings were. I extricated myself and retreated down the hall in the midst of laughter. I never did know my discoverer.
My curiosity was still not satisfied, and I was determined to keep trying. I used all sorts of excuses for going to his study with pressing messages or gifts. But Mother spoke with finality: “Father cannot be disturbed in his work.” In spite of Mother’s words, the opportunity finally presented itself. One day I stood quivering on the threshold. There was Father at his desk looking quite serious. I leaned forward on my toes to take in all that I could see, so far forward that I lost my balance and fell on my face into the room. I was terribly frightened, but Father rushed to me and with a smile picked me up saying: “What are you doing here, baby?” Then he sat me down at his desk and held me on his knees. I was speechless to think I was in the forbidden place. I glanced at piles of papers, then at Father’s face. With a hug and a kiss he deposited me in the hallway. “Now run along, my little Curiosity.” I skipped away elated and I could hardly wait to tell Marie I had actually been in “the forbidden land.”
I was often instrumental in getting my sister and my brother in trouble. When we drove to Pavlovsk, a short distance from Tsarskoe Selo, I watched for the moment when the nurse was occupied with my cousin’s attendant. I snapped my fingers—a signal to dash to the brook for the mud fight. Within seconds our faces and white clothes were beyond recognition. These mud fights made the nurse furious. Once when she rebuked me, she said it was a pity I had not been born a boy. This worried me so, I went to Mother with the question, “Do you love me, Mother?” “You know I do, little Shvibzchik,” was her reply, using her pet name for me. “But if I were a boy, would you love me more?” I questioned her tearfully. Mother understood; she shook her head a decided “No” and I was satisfied.
Sometimes after tea, I slipped into the servants’ quarters to partake of tea again, because I thought they had more interesting things to eat. I was quite wrapped up in my small world without realizing that there was any other. And yet being born into a royal family I still kept wondering whether I should have been someone else. I wondered if my grandmother, the Dowager Empress Marie, ever forgave me for not being a boy. That might explain her critical attitude toward me. I thought I sensed an unsympathetic bearing in her and I often retaliated by being irritable which in turn justified her criticism of me. On second thought this same Grandmother understood me perhaps better than anyone else. When all despaired of me, she would say, “Don’t worry, she’ll tame down after a while.” This may have been a comforting thought to my family, but not to me. I did not want to be like my Granny, not at all. She was small, dark-eyed, deep-voiced, always beautifully groomed. I wanted to be like Tatiana, tall, beautiful and graceful. Often after I was tucked in bed, I whispered a prayer that God might transform me overnight into a girl like Tatiana. Grandmother was Alexei’s favorite. He loved her more than we sisters did. She was Father’s mother and there was a strong bond between them.