to the citizenry in ’36—as long as they could pay the cashier in foreign currencies, silver, or gold. In fact, on TsUM’s lower level there is a nicely appointed office where a discreet gentleman will give you store credit for half the value of your grandmother’s jewelry.
You see? Life is more joyous.
So, having admired the contents of the windows and imagined the day when they too might have an apartment with closets in which to stow their hats, watches, and shoes, our fetching pair resumes their stroll, all the while chatting about the two well-connected young men they are on their way to meet for dinner.
At Teatralny Proyezd, they wait at the curb for a break in the flow of automobiles. Then skipping across the street, they enter the Metropol Hotel where, as they pass the concierge’s desk en route to the Piazza, they are admired by a distinguished-looking man with a touch of gray in his hair. . . .
“Ah, the end of spring,” observed the Count to Vasily (who was sorting through the night’s reservations). “By the hems of the skirts on those young ladies, I’d wager it must be almost 70˚ along Tverskaya, despite being seven o’clock at night. In another few days, the boys will be stealing posies from the Alexander Gardens and Emile will be scattering peas across his plates. . . .”
“No doubt,” said the concierge, in the manner of a librarian agreeing with a scholar.
Earlier that day, in fact, the first strawberries of the season had arrived in the kitchen and Emile had slipped a handful to the Count for his breakfast the following morning.
“Without question,” concluded the Count, “summer is now at the gates and the days that ensue are sure to be long and carefree. . . .”
“Alexander Ilyich.”
At the unexpected sound of his own name, the Count turned to find another young lady standing right behind him, though this one was in a pair of pants. Five and a half feet tall, she had straight blond hair, light blue eyes, and a rare sense of self-possession.
“Nina!” he exclaimed. “What a sight for sore eyes. We haven’t heard from you in ages. When did you get back to Moscow?”
“May I speak with you a moment?”
“Certainly . . .”
Sensing that something personal must have prompted the visit, the Count followed Nina a few paces from the concierge’s desk.
“It is my husband—” she began.
“Your husband,” the Count interjected. “You’ve gotten married!”
“Yes,” she said. “Leo and I have been married for six years. We worked together in Ivanovo—”
“Why, I remember him!”
Frustrated by the Count’s interruptions, Nina shook her head.
“You would not have met.”
“You’re quite right. We did not meet, per se; but he was here with you in the hotel just before you left.”
The Count couldn’t help but smile to recall the handsome Komsomol captain who had sent the others on ahead so that he could wait for Nina alone.
Nina tried for a moment to recollect this visit with her husband to the Metropol; but then waved a hand as if to say whether or not they had been in the hotel all those years ago was of no consequence.
“Please, Alexander Ilyich. I don’t have much time. Two weeks ago, we were recalled from Ivanovo to attend a conference on the future of agricultural planning. On the first day of the meetings, Leo was arrested. After some effort, I tracked him to the Lubyanka, but they wouldn’t let me see him. Naturally, I began to fear the worst. But yesterday, I received word that he has been sentenced to five years corrective labor. They are putting him on a train tonight for Sevvostlag. I’m going to follow him there. What I need is for someone to watch over Sofia while I get myself settled.”
“Sofia?”
The Count followed Nina’s glance across the lobby to where a girl of five or six with black hair and ivory skin was in a high-back chair, her feet dangling a few inches from the floor.
“I can’t take her with me now as I will need to find work and a place to live. It may take a month or two. But once I have established myself, I’ll come back for her.”
Nina had explained these developments as one reports a series of scientific outcomes—a succession of facts that warranted our fear and indignation as much as would the laws of gravity or motion. But the Count could no longer contain some sense of shock, if only due to the speed at