only abide first-class carriages, and porters to carry their bags, large apartments, and much idle time for grieving, helped by enormous portions of champagne.” He smiled. “How could I deny them? And so I did not.”
“But what about those Bolsheviks and the Mensheviks and the Tsarists and all?” said Andrew.
“They stole my money, too, but I expected them to. My old pal Joffe went so far as to have me beaten, so I gave him a thousand. ‘My last thousand!’ I kept saying, and perhaps he believed me, or perhaps he only told Lenin he did. Then there was my cousin, who when I last was in Russia was only a boy, and had since served in a Cossack regiment in the Tsar’s army, and when I saw him in 1918 was back in their town. He swore up and down to me that he only wanted an up-to-date rifle, and he would then set about making his living off the land. He would kill birds for food, and he knew where all the best furs for trapping could be found. He showed me a list of his contacts—he was going to smuggle sables and ermines to the West. I procured the rifle for him, and the stock of ammunition, but the first thing he did was shoot his wife and her lover, and then himself. That had been his plan all along. And then the rifle was stolen by the police and disappeared, though I would not have wanted it back.”
Andrew looked a bit shocked. Pete smiled and went on: “Who’s to say that the three of them didn’t get the best of it? They would have impressed him into the Red Army. Personal troubles, no matter how deadly they are, were small beer in Russia those days.”
“You gave your fortune away,” declared Andrew.
“Did I? When I left, I was thinking of something else entirely. Buying wheat or lamp oil. Wartime speculation can be very lucrative. Oats? I can barely remember. Something scruffy and venal. I recognized my mistake at once—contacting old friends! But it’s hard on your pride to return from America with nothing to show for it, and so I did not. I returned from Russia with nothing to show for it!”
Margaret asked, “Did you starve?” She was conscious of the dishes of food on the table.
“Everyone starved. Starvation is a potent weapon, and the Bolsheviks are happy to wield it. The cheapest way to get rid of the opposition is to starve them. Lenin did it the expensive way, shooting them, but the Soviets can no longer afford that.”
“Starving them on purpose?”
“Why not? Why not?” He shook his head, then said, “Americans will never understand Russians. Perhaps I don’t understand them myself anymore.”
There was a long silence while Margaret cleared the table. Really, she still didn’t know what to make of Pete. Andrew said, “We looked at those things of yours while you were away. Didn’t know what we would do with them.”
They all understood that the end of this sentence was “if you died.”
Margaret said, “We had one fright, when the powder magazine exploded at the beginning of our war. But I have to admit, I only thought of the screens after I’d already wondered if we were all going to be blown to bits.”
“May I look at them?” said Pete.
He and Andrew carried them in, then unwrapped them.
Andrew said, “Mightn’t you sell these, then? I mean, for funds.”
Pete didn’t answer.
First the gold one, then the man in the boat. She glanced at Pete. His face had a look she had never seen on it before—no skepticism, no bemusement, simply a smile of unconscious delight. He looked handsome for once. Margaret carried the platter into the kitchen.
When she came back, Andrew had started hmphing and knocking about. But Pete was still silent, entranced. “Well, you know, you did inspire someone,” said Andrew. “My dear, you must show Pete what you’ve acquired.”
She was instantly embarrassed, but said, “I’ve bought a few of my own now. Mrs. Kimura sometimes goes with me to Japantown. We got to be friends when she taught me to drive an automobile.”
She brought them out and set them on the dining-room table. There were three of them. Pete looked at them for a long time without saying anything. Andrew had barely glanced at the prints, and was now marching about the room. Margaret knew he was tempted to go into his study and get to work, and she wished he would—his steps