Konrad and Alexandra (pdf) - Rolf Gross

St. Pertersburg
The Summer Ball
1899
After two days on the train from Florence to Berlin they changed to the Paris-to-St.
Petersburg Nord-Express and found themselves surrounded by Russian upper class families
returning from vacations in Paris, the Côte d’Azur, Italy. For five weeks they had not spoken
Russian. To be suddenly submerged in this over-familiar culture evoked mixed feelings in
Alexandra. The flocks of well-bred children supervised by French and German governesses,
the overbearing, elegant ladies in their fashionable corsets, the boring cliques of arrogant
gentlemen passing the time at playing cards for high stakes and drinking French cognac
irritated her. Why? She could not say. Memories? Prejudices? Her apprehension of having to
live in St. Petersburg?
Luckily they shared a four-bed compartment with a French-Armenian couple. Izabel and
Martiros Sisakian had grown up in Istanbul. Because of the increasing harassment of
Armenians in Turkey, they had fled to Paris. A few months ago they finally decided to settle in
St. Petersburg. Alexandra felt this decision difficult to understand—they carried French
passports—but Martiros Sisakian explained that it was a personal decision, they had many
close friends in St. Petersburg. He was a painter, and Izabel, an intelligent, lively young
woman, supported him by working as an interpreter.
Izabel, supporting her husband? Alexandra could see herself pursuing painting or
weaving rugs, but a wife supporting her husband was a startling idea.
Izabel nodded. "My family thought so too. To judge by your name, you come from an
aristocratic Georgian family. Imagine how conservative our bourgeois Armenian society is! At
home it would have been impossible, but in Paris we met many women, who worked to make it
possible for their men to pursue an artistic career. It takes a long time for a painter to become
sufficiently established to earn regular money. I love this man and that made it easy."
Martiros smiled embarrassed. "In the beginning it was not easy to let Izabel do what she
had set her mind to. We got married, because we were tired of the bohemian arrangement of
lover and mistress in which most of our friends lived. Maybe the twentieth century will remove
the social stigma which decrees that a married woman should remain at home and tend the
hearth. Besides, I do sell a painting every so often. Izabel is a gregarious person, she enjoys
other people. I guess my modern, Socialist friends in Paris gave me the courage to break with
our obsolete Armenian customs."
Alexandra pensively traced her lips with her finger and looked at Izabel. "And what
about children?"
Martiros nodded and opened his hands in resignation. "I would love to have a child, and
maybe that is the main reason why the patriarchal men want their wives to stay home. But
obviously having children will remain impossible for a while."
Izabel’s large, dark eyes returned Alexandra’s questioning look. "I am still young. I have
not given up hope that I will have a child in a few years."
Alexandra did not say so, but this price for freedom appeared too high. Or was it not
freedom the two sought, was it just love? Mulling over the marital arrangement of the
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