and pompous uncles. The mirthless, mordant, and shy. Why? Because Alexander Rostov could be counted upon to draw his dinner companions into a lively conversation, whatever their dispositions.
If he had happened to be seated beside Sofia at a dinner party—or, for that matter, in the compartment of a train traveling across the countryside—what would he do? Naturally, he would ask about her life: Where are you from, my friend? Ivanovo, you say. I have never been, but always wanted to go. What is the best season to visit? And what should one see whilst one is there?
“So, tell me . . . ,” the Count began with a smile, as Sofia’s eyes opened wide.
But even as the words were leaving his lips, the Count was having second thoughts. For he was decidedly not seated beside Sofia at a dinner party, or in a railway car. She was a child who, with little explanation, had been uprooted from her home. To pursue a line of inquiry about the sights and seasons of Ivanovo or daily life with her parents was almost certain to raise a host of sad associations, spurring feelings of longing and loss.
“So, tell me . . . ,” he said again, feeling the onset of dizziness, as her eyes opened wider. But just in time, he had a flash of inspiration:
“What is your dolly’s name?”
A sure step, that one, thought the Count, with an inward pat on the back.
“Dolly doesn’t have a name.”
“What’s that? No name? But surely, your doll must have a name.”
Sofia stared at the Count for a moment then tilted her head like a raven.
“Why?”
“Why?” repeated the Count. “Why, so that she can be addressed. So that she can be invited for tea; called to from across the room; discussed in conversation when absent; and included in your prayers. That is, for all the very reasons that you benefit from having a name.”
As Sofia considered this, the Count leaned forward, ready to elaborate on the matter to the smallest detail. But nodding once, the girl said, “I shall call her Dolly.” Then she looked to the Count with her big blue eyes as if to say: Now that that’s decided, what next?
The Count leaned back in his chair and began to sort through his vast catalog of casual questions, discarding one after another. But as luck would have it, he noticed that Sofia’s gaze had shifted almost furtively toward something behind him.
Discreetly, the Count glanced back.
The ebony elephant, he realized with a smile. Raised her entire life in a rural province, the child had probably never even imagined that such an animal existed. What sort of fantastical beast is that? she must be wondering. Is it mammal or reptile? Fact or fable?
“Have you ever seen one of those before?” the Count asked with a backward gesture and a smile.
“An elephant?” she asked. “Or a lamp?”
The Count coughed.
“I meant an elephant.”
“Only in books,” she admitted a little sadly.
“Ah. Well. It is a magnificent animal. A wonder of creation.”
Sofia’s interest piqued, the Count launched into a description of the species, animating each of its characteristics with an illustrative flourish of the arms. “A native of the Dark Continent, the mature example can weigh over ten thousand pounds. Its legs are as thick as tree trunks, and it bathes itself by drawing water into its proboscis and spraying it into the air—”
“So, you have seen one?” she interrupted brightly. “On the Dark Continent?”
The Count fidgeted.
“Not exactly on the Dark Continent . . .”
“Then where?”
“In various books . . .”
“Oh,” said Sofia, bringing the topic to a close with the efficiency of the guillotine.
. . .
. . .
The Count considered for a moment what other sort of wonder might capture her imagination, but which he had actually seen in person.
“Would you like to hear a story about a princess?” he suggested.
Sofia sat upright.
“The age of the nobility has given way to the age of the common man,” she said with the pride of one who has recited her times tables correctly. “It was historically inevitable.”
“Yes,” said the Count. “So I’ve been told.”
. . .
. . .
“Do you enjoy pictures?” he asked, picking up an illustrated guide to the Louvre that he had borrowed from the basement. “Here is a lifetime’s supply. While I wash up, why don’t you delve in?”
Sofia moved a little in order to set Dolly at her side and then accepted the book in a ready and determined manner.