42
PARTISAN REVIEW
the birthplace of roses, where beds of flowers flow down to the sea–
shore.
I left the Benderski's with a twenty-five rouble advance. That
night our crowd at Peski got drunk as a flock of drugged geese. Be–
tween drinks we spooned up the best caviar, and then changed over
to liver sausage. Half-soused, I began to berate Tolstoi.
"He turned yellow, your Count, he was afraid. His religion was
all
fear.... He was frightened by the cold, by old age, by death, and
he made himself a warm coat out of his faith. . . . "
"Go on, go on," Kazantsev urged, swaying his bird-like head.
We fell asleep on the floor beside our beds. I dreamed of Katya,
a forty-year-old washerwoman who lived a floor below us. We went
to her every morning for our boiling water. I had never seen her face
distinctly, but in my dream we did god-awful things together. We
almost destroyed each other with kisses. The very next morning I
couldn't restrain myself from going to her for boiling water.
I saw a wan woman, a shawl across her chest, with ash-grey
hair and labor-worn, withered hands.
From then on I took my breakfast at the Benderski's every day.
A new stove, herrings and chocolates appeared in our attic. Twice
Raissa took me out in her carriage for drives to the islands. I couldn't
prevent myself from telling her all about my childhood. To my amaze–
ment the story turned out to be very sordid. From under her moleskin
cowl her gleaming, frightened eyes stared at me. The rusty fringe of
her eyelashes quivered with pity.
I met Raissa's husband, a yellow-faced Jew with a bald skull and
a flat, powerful body that seemed always poised obliquely, ready for
flight.
There were rumors about his being close to Rasputin. The enor–
mous profits he made from war supplies drove him almost crazy, giv–
ing him the expression of a person with a fixed hallucination. His
eyes never remained still; it seemed that reality was lost to him for–
ever. Raissa was embarrassed whenever she had to introduce him
to new acquaintances. Because of my youth I noticed this a full week
later than I should have.
After the New Year Raissa's two sisters arrived from Kiev. One
day I brought the manuscript of "L'aveux" and, not finding Raissa
at home, came back that evening. They were at dinner. Silvery,
