PARTISAN REVIEW
fluff on the top of
his
head. The horror in his stare was mixed with
admiration.
At Christmas-time we had luck. Benderski, the lawyer, who
owned a publishing house called "Halcyon," decided to publish a
new edition of Maupassant's works. His wife, Raissa, tried to do the
translation but nothing came of her lofty ambition.
Kazantsev, who was known as a translator of Spanish, had
been asked whether he could recommend someone to assist Raissa
Mikhailovna. He told them of me.
The next day, in someone else's coat, I managed to carry my–
self to Benderski's. They lived at the corner of Nevsky and Moika,
in a house of Finland granite, adorned with pink columns, cornices
and coats-of-arms made of stone.
Bankers without a history and catapulted out of nowhere, con–
verted Jews who had become rich selling materials to the army, put
up these pretentious mansions in St. Petersburg before the war.
There was a red carpet on the stairs. On the landings, upon
their hind legs, stood plush bears. Crystal lamps burned in their
open mouths.
The Benderskis lived on the third floor. A high-breasted maid,
with a white cap on her head, opened the door. She led me into a
drawing room decorated in the
' old
Slav style. Blue paintings by
Roerich depicting prehistoric stones and monsters hung on the walls.
The high-breasted maid moved smoothly and majestically. She
had an excellent figure, was near-sighted and rather haughty. In
her open gray eyes one saw a petrified lewdness. She moved slowly.
I thought-when she makes love she must move with unheard-of
agility. The brocade portiere over the doorway suddenly rustled. A
black-haired woman with pink eyes and a wide bosom entered the
room. It was easy to recognize in Raissa Benderski one of those charm–
ing Jewesses who have come to us from Kiev and Poltava, from the
opulent steppe towns full of chestnut trees and acacias. The money
made by their clever husbands is transformed by these women into
a pink layer of fat on the belly, the back of the neck, and the well–
rounded shoulders. Their sleepy and subtle smiles drive officers from
the local garrisons crazy.
"Maupassant," Raissa said to me, "is the only passion of my
life."
