Musicians had come in from the village together with a whole crowd of Elkin’s friends and acquaintances. One guest rolled up a bottle of new wine; there were not enough glasses to go around, and people took it in turns to drink from the battered enamel mugs.
Nina kept glancing anxiously toward the path down to the sea. Where on earth had Klim got too? It was already dark, and he did not know the way back. What if he got lost?
At last, she heard the dogs barking, and Kitty’s voice rang out, “We’re back!”
Gloria pulled Nina’s sleeve. “Don’t be a fool!” she warned.
But Nina had no chance to “be a fool.” Klim took no notice of her whatsoever. He was asked to dance by a young medical student, Oksana, who had recently arrived in Koktebel. Much to Nina’s annoyance, he seemed happy to accept, and the two of them whirled about so gracefully to the music of the village band that all the guests applauded.
Elkin sat down on the bench next to Nina, looking flushed and happy.
“Recently, we have witnessed a rise in the number of evenings at which young people do nothing but dance,” he said in imitation of a Party member giving a speech. “What benefit is to be had from such events? They achieve nothing except the corruption of the working element! In order to root out this perversion from our society, we must perform dances that reflect the struggle of the working class.”
He was trying to make Nina laugh, but she did not even crack a smile. Hot tears stung her eyes. To stop herself from crying, she gazed at the moon, which hung in the sky over the mountains. Nothing was as before: even the moon seemed too small and pale for Nina.
“Shall I bring you out some baked tomatoes?” Elkin suggested.
Nina nodded, and he ran off to the kitchen.
“Do you have the key to the room?” asked Klim, walking past. “Kitty’s tired. I’ll go and put her to bed.”
Nina got to her feet. “You still haven’t told me anything. Are you leaving tomorrow?”
He raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Are you suggesting I stay to spite our hostess?”
Nina’s heart sank. She had been so hopeful that her new honesty and openness would help her to rebuild her relations with Klim, but he had failed to notice any change in her at all.
Kitty was not in the least bit tired and had no desire to go to bed while everyone around was still dancing and laughing. Klim had taken her up to her room because he himself wanted to get away from Nina.
He was in a very morose frame of mind. What should he do? Take Kitty and set off to another village? That was exactly what he had been dreaming of—spending a couple of weeks with his daughter at the seaside and forgetting all his worries for a fortnight or so. But of course, Nina will throw a spanner in the works. He could sense that she was not going to leave him and Kitty alone.
Klim sat down on the bed beside Kitty and listened for some time to the faint sound of laughter and music from the garden.
Perhaps he should throw caution to the wind and indulge in a mad holiday romance? During the bus journey, he had taken care to avert his gaze from Nina. Still, he had notice the line in the collar of her dress where the sun-tanned flesh on public display gave way to a tantalizing glimpse of creamy golden skin—the threshold of the private chamber into which only the chosen one was admitted. Klim was fairly sure that he could count on gaining permission.
Kitty showed no signs of settling down. “There’s a girl staying downstairs, and she has a gas mask. She says she can put it on in five seconds. I want one too.”
“We’ll get you one when we get back to Moscow,” Klim said.
“Can you get gas masks for horses?”
“I expect so. Go to sleep now.”
“What about giraffes? Elkin made me a giraffe rocking horse. I need to get a gas mask for it too.”
Elkin seems to have been getting all sorts of ideas, Klim thought. Well, I suppose he can dream.
Klim was already picturing the scenario to himself—the seduction of Mrs. Reich. It would be like the classic plot of a Russian novel. A high society lady dreams of leaving her rich husband, and while touring from city to city in the South, she meets an old acquaintance with whom she has previously been in love. They both know the affair can’t last—the holidays will end, and they will go back to their own social circles. But why should they deny themselves the pleasure when fortune is offering them this wonderful opportunity never to be repeated?
Gradually, the voices outside began to die down. The locals were starting to leave for their village and the guests to go off to their bedrooms.
At last, Kitty was asleep. Klim tucked the blanket around her and went out into the corridor. He wandered around the house for some time before he found Nina out on the terrace. She was lying in a hammock between two pillars, rocking herself gently with one foot.
“You can go to your room now,” Klim told her.
Nina sat up hurriedly and began to pull out the pins that had worked themselves loose from her hair.
“Yes, just a minute…” she began but then patted the hammock beside her. “Come and sit. We need to talk.”
“What about?”
“About us.”
The hammock stretched under Klim’s weight, forcing Nina closer to him.
This is it, he thought. This was what he would travel to the ends of the earth to feel—the touch of her thigh, the warmth of her body, which he could feel through two layers of clothes.
“Will you let me explain everything to you?” asked Nina.
Klim put his arms around her and pressed his lips to hers. “Tell me later.”
Nina wound her arms around Klim’s neck, and the giraffe pendant dug painfully into his chest.
“Take this thing off,” he said.
Nina pulled the pendant off over her head and threw it to the floor without a glance.
In his mind, Klim was already gathering her skirt in his hands, kissing her voluptuous breasts, gripping her tightly by her slender wrist to hold her completely in his power, to give her no chance to escape.
He pushed her back onto the hammock, which swayed precariously under them.
“We’ll fall out of here in a minute,” Nina laughed.
Klim bent over her. “If we do, it would be a wonderful illustration of the collapse of contemporary morals.”
Suddenly, a ray of light swept over them, and the cockatoo came fluttering overhead.
“Court martial!” it shrieked, landing on the terrace railing.
Klim raised his head to see Gloria in the doorway, a lantern in her hand. Surrounded by wreaths of pipe smoke, she seemed to be emerging from a cloud.
“Why have you left your daughter alone?” Gloria scolded Nina. “Go back to your room this minute!”
Shamefaced, Nina stood up and began to fasten the buttons of her dress. There was a crunching noise under her foot. She looked down and saw that she had stood on the Elkin’s giraffe figurine.
Gloria shuffled up to Klim and handed him a telegram envelope.
“Here,” she said. “This came yesterday. I forgot to give it to you.”
It was a message from Seibert:
Come Moscow immediately stop matter of life and death stop ticket reserved
Nina looked at Klim in alarm.
“What is it?” she asked.
He was silent for a minute, gathering his thoughts.
“Take no prisoners!” the squawk of the cockatoo came out of the dark.
“A friend of mine is in trouble,” said Klim. “He needs help, so Kitty and I will have to go back to Moscow tomorrow evening.”