Konrad and Alexandra (pdf) - Rolf Gross

They moved into the living room, Irakli poured each a glass of wine and welcomed Ilia,
"To our Georgian hero, poet, and second brother-in-law, many happy returns to the
Motherland!"
"Ah, you fat Mingrelian landowners," exclaimed Ilia sarcastically in Georgian. "You sit at
home on your rich estates, grow tea, take the money from these northern barbarians, and care
a hoot of what happens to this land of the Georgians. Have you forgotten your mother tongue?"
"Please, let’s speak Russian," pleaded Irakli. "And if you cannot stand Russian, speak
German. Konrad can recite his wedding vows in Georgian but not much else, and he certainly
will not understand your complicated Georgian politics."
Konrad raised his glass to Irakli and Ilia. "Dear mamebi zakartvelis, Fathers of Georgia,
you belittle my intelligence!" and began to sing the first stanza of one of Ilia’s heroically patriotic
songs in Georgian. He laughed. "That is as far as I have come! Next week Alexandra will teach
me the second stanza!"
All applauded and Ilia made a small bow before Konrad. "Maybe you are worthy of an
honorable adoption by this woman."
. "Tell us about your visit to Berlin and Paris," pleaded Alexandra with eager eyes. "I
would first have gone to Italy. Venice has been my dream for years. What are the ladies
wearing? Did you go to the opera, and is Berlin as rich and debased as they say?"
Ilia pretended distress. "I was afraid the you would ask me that question, that is why I
brought you those journals. Now you can have yourself the latest wedding dress made." He
pointed at the fashion magazines. "Yes, Berlin is expensive and booming, and the Kaiser is
even more pompous than ours." He spread his empty hands. "I am sorry, I spent most of my
time talking to the German and French Socialists. Sorry, no opera." He made a curtsy before
Alexandra. "As far as the ladies go, I prefer the Georgian gogonebi over any other, they are the
most beautiful."
He raised his glass to Alexandra. "Long live our Georgian women, the envy of Europe!"
Tamunia-Deda frowned wearily, cool disdain for her old cousin’s buffoonery on her face
she remonstrated with him. "Why do you always expose yourself? Consorting with these
foreign Socialists! You can be assured that the Kaiser’s secret service has already informed
the Okhrana whom you met and where. Why put yourself, your relatives, and your Georgian
mission at risk like that? What do you think you will achieve, Georgian autonomy with the help
of the Socialists? You are a fool!"
Ilia in a soothing tone. "Dear Tamunia, I love you as dearly as I love Alexandra. Don’t be
jealous. But you are half Russian in Tsinandali, how can you understand my fight for Georgian
freedom?"
Tamara flushed and with unexpected animation defended her family from this insult.
"You know that this is infamy. The Tsinandali Chavchavadze are as Georgian as you are, but
how do you imagine that Georgia could exist without Russian protection? The Persians and the
Turks would have cut our Christian throats twice in the last forty years, not to mention Shamyl
and his Chechen hordes. Have you forgotten Baryatinski’s heroic campaign against Shamyl?
Maybe the Chavchavadze women from Tsinandali who married the Tsar’s advisors did more
for Georgia than your entire campaign! We are like vines." She moved her hand from her
breast in a flowing gesture through the air and back again. "One can cut us back, but we
always grow again." She finished with determination. "One day, the son of a Georgian mother
will occupy the Imperial throne of Russia and put an end to our oppression."
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