Konrad and Alexandra (pdf) - Rolf Gross

Vladimir
St. Petersburg 1904
On a summer morning of the year 1904 Vladimir opened the door of Kluchkov’s
bookshop on Liteini Boulevard. The bell over the door chimed. He was met by the familiar
cloud of dust and stale tobacco smoke. As he closed the door a sharp sense of danger
attacked him from the back. He stopped and carefully turned around but could not see any
cause .
The old bookseller peered at him over his reading glasses. "Good day, Vladimir
Vladimirovich! You have become a rare visitor lately."
The foreboding of an impending disaster hung over St. Petersburg, the revolution
appeared imminent. Vladimir’s father had been detained again because of his connections to
the Socialists. Valdimir had to be careful, spies and informers for the Okhrana were
everywhere. He addressed the old man. "Vitali Ivanovich, have you seen my first volume of
poetry? It should have appeared weeks ago."
The bookseller took a puff on his pipe and shook his balding head. "Don’t worry, the
volume is being held for further scrutiny until after your father has been released. You know the
way the censors work."
Annoyed, Vladimir bit his lip. "But it contains harmless lyrics, the memories of a
sensuous summer, love poems, nothing political."
"So, you will see it very soon, I am sure. Can I do anything else for you today?"
"I have not been in town for months, may I browse the shelves?"
Victor Ivanovich smiled and invited him in with his hand. "Be my guest. I am most happy
to see you here."
Vladimir’s apprehension had not lessened. He peered into the cavernous, dark shop
with its rows of bookshelves. He was alone with the old man, whom he knew well. He gave
himself a push.
As he passed the corner of the first shelf he saw who waited for him.
She sat hidden behind the stack on a low stool next to two piles of books and looked at
him amused. In a simple gray Shantung silk printed with small orange leaves, she looked even
more alluring than he remembered. Over her sternal cavity hung a shimmering black opal on a
thin, hand-wrought gold chain. Her blue eyes mocked him affectionately.
Without a word Vladimir bent down and kissed her hand with a tender brush of his lips.
She let him feel the pleasure he gave her, the irony around her mouth disappeared.
Vladimir recovered his voice. "My God, Alexandra, for two people living in the same city
it has been an eternity since we last met. When was it that I last saw you?"
"At Becky’s house, on the day when we looked at her father’s pictures."
"You were pregnant then, I remember."
"Yes, Otto is four!"
"Has it been that long?"
He had recovered his nonchalance and with a charming, but calculated blush regressed.
"Do you remember the summer ball in the Botanical Gardens? I had a crush on you then, and
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