Spotting Klim, the goose shook itself, spread out its wings, and set off toward the stranger, hissing.
Nina laughed. “Hey! He’s a friend! Stop that this instant!”
She threw the goose a crust of bread, and it immediately forgot about its rival.
The ground was damp after the rain the day before, and as Nina tried to climb up the bank from the pond, she kept slipping on the wet clay.
Klim held out a hand to her. “Here—let me pull you up.”
This time, Nina accepted his help and even allowed him to hold her by the elbow while she cleaned off the mud from her shoes with a stick.
Klim had imagined she would ask him why he had been following her and was trying to think up an acceptable excuse, but Nina, acting as if nothing had happened, began to tell him about the goose.
“The rest of its clan have been caught and eaten long ago,” she said, “but it’s been hiding in the rushes all this time. I come here to feed it.”
They walked along the path together, followed by the goose. From time to time, it gave an angry honk and flapped its wings noisily. It seemed to regard Nina as its own property.
Klim was no longer trying to think about anything. He just walked along beside Nina, breathing in the heady scent of the autumn leaves and feeling amazed at how neatly she had forced him to make the first move.
Nina, it appeared, now lived in Saltykovka, in the house of Count Belov, and traveled to the capital every day on the suburban train.
“To see Kitty?” asked Klim.
“To see both of you. Also, Belov and I have started up a soap-making business. Once, I translated a brochure for Magda about it, so we use the technology she had described. But I have to go around Moscow all the time to find our supplies.”
“But how do you sell your products?” asked Klim, amazed. “I don’t suppose you have a patent, do you?”
“No, but I have a head on my shoulders,” said Nina, laughing.
From what she told him, it was clear that private enterprise had not disappeared but had been pushed underground by the draconian measures of the government.
Nina had spent all that remained of her money on buying raw materials and equipment. In the suburbs, there were whole colonies of lishentsy who had been driven out from the capital. They were prepared to take any job they were offered.
“We found a young chemist,” said Nina. “He was expelled from the university because he came from an aristocratic family, and he’s thought up a cheap method of creating lye for us.”
Nina’s soap was being peddled around various markets and stations, but most of her profit came from government organizations. Nina was coming to agreements with the directors of laundries, hospitals, and schools to supply them with soap, given the current shortage.
“The state demands that institutions comply with standards of hygiene,” Nina told Klim, “but there are no soap supplies left. Nowadays, every company has two sets of accounts. The first books are the official ones, for the government officials, and the second are the work accounts. They include a completely different list of goods and completely different figures.”
Klim remembered what Elkin had told him about translating Swedish manuals.
“So, you’re telling me that all manufacturers are breaking the law and that they’re criminals by definition?” he asked.
“The whole population is engaged in criminal activities these days,” said Nina. “Some people are trading illegally; others are evading taxes or getting their salary paid cash-in-hand. And all the officials take bribes. We’re all in it together.”
They arrived at the gate, and the goose, deciding not to go any farther, flew back to its pond.
“Where are you going—to the station?” asked Klim.
Nina nodded, and he hailed her a cab.
“See you tomorrow,” she said, shaking his hand as if they were just friends.
Nina has had an idea about what to do with the Volga Germans. She has advised us to find people who have connections with the Canadian Railroad Company. The population of Canada is very small, no more than nine million people, and they don’t have anyone to service the railroads that run through the forested areas. Nina has heard that the government in Ottawa is prepared to help immigrants who are willing to settle in these remote areas. They will be given land, equipment, and interest-free loans. Magda has made contact with the Canadians and found out that they are indeed ready to take our refugees, and the German embassy in Moscow has agreed to give the Germans transit visas on condition that they go to Hamburg beforehand and charter a steamer from there to take them to Quebec.
Once again, it all comes down to foreign passports and money. We’re all hoping that Seibert will manage to raise the necessary funds, but so far, he hasn’t had any success.
Nina has also thought up a way for the Germans to earn some cash in the meantime. She has suggested that they gather up old flags and banners left after political demonstrations and make them into various items, from shopping bags to children’s clothes. Friedrich has brought several crates of thread and sewing materials from Germany, and production is already underway.
What’s happening at the moment between Nina and me? There is not a great deal to report. We’ve found common cause caring for other people who are connected to us only because they are fellow human beings. Nina and I have taken to wandering in the park by the Red Army Club, and instead of talking about our own affairs, we discuss our plans to rescue the Germans.
During one of these walks, we found a mysterious fence and discovered behind it a whole store of prerevolutionary statues commemorating subjects that are no longer in favor. All the bronze sculptures have long since been taken to be melted down, but the marble figures of emperors and generals are all still there, gradually becoming overgrown with moss and begrimed with soot.
During recess, we go to visit these vanquished heroes. Nina spreads out a cloth on a pedestal supporting some general and treats me to her own homemade bread.
I don’t always come empty-handed either. A couple of days ago, I managed to get a bottle of champagne from the canteen at the People’s Commissariat of Foreign Affairs. I’ll never forget how we cracked it open and drank champagne straight from the bottle.
When our classes are over, we go to visit the goose—he’s still alive for the moment. Then I walk Nina some of the way home. Our evening strolls around Moscow are becoming longer and longer. At first, we would say goodbye on Tsvetnoy Boulevard, but now I take her as far as the station and then go home… to Galina.
Tata is now back at her old school. No sooner did she get there than she created a scene: the Young Pioneers were playing the traditional skittle game, gorodki, where you knock apart formations of wooden pegs. The Pioneer leader had suggested that instead of the traditional shapes like cannons and forks, they lay out the pegs in the shape of granaries and factories—then their game would be more in tune with the spirit of the age.
This sent Tata into a frenzy of righteous indignation. She wrote a denunciation to the headmaster complaining that the Pioneer leader was guilty of encouraging sabotage and was planning to destroy Soviet enterprises by knocking them apart with sticks.
Galina told me the whole thing as if it were a joke. The headmaster turned out to have a head on his shoulders and told Tata not to be a fool, and the Pioneer leader didn’t get into trouble. But I was stunned to hear the story. It seems that Galina has no idea what a little monster she has raised.