Konrad and Alexandra (PDF) - Rolf Gross

Alexandra not in the mood to give Valdimir the satisfaction of simply applauding Witte’s ‘genius’ asked, "What do youthink is going to happen in the near future?"Vladimir looked at the floor. "It is hard to say. I am no prophet, and the political situation is still very unstable. Witte is insufficiently poor health that he cannot last as prime minister. The Emperor probably wished him dead, but Witte is theonly man who can bring in the large foreign loan that would save the country economically by paying off the debtsincurred by the idiotic Pacific adventure." He looked at Alexandra again. "Nicholas will have to suffer Witte’sintransigence until this money arrives: I guess six months? A year?"They helped Alexandra carry the supper into the dining room. Konrad found a last bottle of red wine in his cabinet, andthey sat down to eat."Russian politics are a chaotic charade," said Konrad over supper. "Do you mind continuing your lecture? What about therevolution, is it dead or will it continue?"Vladimir put his fork and knife down and shrugged. "The revolution? It has not started. The radical left had nothing to dowith the October demonstration nor with the ensuing disaster. Everybody, on the right and the left, was completely takenby surprise. Only belatedly have the Bolsheviks tried to reap some undeserved political gain from the situation."He laughed derisively. "I think today’s arrests will break their back for the foreseeable future, at least in St. Petersburg,elsewhere they might be more successful. In Moscow they have a wealthy supporter in Sasha Manovsky—a richsympathizer who channels his contributions to the radical Moscow Soviet through Maria Andreyeva. Do you rememberher at Volkonsky’s, Alexandra, Gorki’s voluptuously beautiful mistress with the fabulous hat?"Vladimir sighed and laughed. "Manovsky is the competitor of Becky’s father when it comes to French paintings, he hasan even bigger collection. He is a railroad millionaire, what he expects from the Marxists in return for his donationscompletely mystifies me. And Andreyeva?—I am still jealous of Gorki."Alexandra suppressed a yawn. "We met a very young Russian woman in Italy, her name was Marina Tsvetaeva. Haveyou ever heard of her? She writes poetry."Vladimir raised his eyebrows. "Tsvetaeva is a formidable competition for our Petersburg poets....""Her poems," interrupted Alexandra, "didn’t strike me as particularly lyrical, besides she is still a lycéenne, barely sixteen,how can she compete with Blok?"Vladimor shrugged. "Have you heard her read?""Yes, she read an abrasive love poem, which she must have composed a day earlier—for Konrad who had flirted withher. She read it in German. Later she began reading a love poem by Rilke but never finished it."Vladimir raised his chin. "Well, Rilke is something else, he is a giant. I once heard him read here when he visitedPetersburg with Lou Salomé, a most striking woman of Russian descent. Where did you hear Tsvetaeva read?"Alexandra finally understood why Clara had been disturbed when she mentioned St. Petersburg, another of Rilke’s loves."We spent three weeks in a lonely pensione on the beach near Venice with her."She described the commune at Mama Angelina’s and the appearance of the two Tsvetaeva sisters.A smile of recognition lit Vladimir’s face. "It sounds like Voloshin’s hideout at Koktebel. Voloshin is a local poet withdubious philosophical ambitions whose mother runs a pensione in Koktebel on the southern coast of the Crimean, apopular summer haven for poets and painters."He nodded. "I heard Tsvetaeva read on a visit to Moscow earlier this year. You are right, she is not lyrical and still veryyoung and immature, but she handles her Russian like a broom with which she sweeps the pigsties of the Symbolists. Inthat, she already surpasses Blok. Tsvetaeva has only one competitor, another woman, three years older, Anna Gorenko,alias Akhmatova. How is Tsvetaeva’s German, and why did she not finish her reading of Rilke?""It was a dramatic happening." Alexandra shook her head, recalling that night. "We had taken Rilke’s abandoned wifealong, she could not bear Marina’s hacking her husband’s poetry to pieces and simply took the volume out of Marina’shands and in tears finished reading the poem herself.""Good God, poor near-sighted Tsvetaeva! She never wears glasses and cannot make out approaching danger. It musthave been a great blow to her silly hauteur, to be forcefully interrupted duringa reading. It was not Lou Salomé?""No, Rilke’s wife’s name is Clara. Who is Lou Salomé, I have never heard of her?""Ah, we are getting into the realm of gossip among the literati. Nothing beats a good rumor for entertainment. You willhear all the rumors making the rounds in town: Akhmatova is infatuated with Blok, Nikolai Gumilev wants to marryAkhmatova, Elizaveta Dmitrieva pursues Gumilev while she sleeps with Voloshin, etc."He pushed his chair back and stretched his legs. "Lou Salomé is Russian; she is the wife of a German professor by thename of Andreas, who leaves her an unprecedented amount of freedom, she inspired Nietzsche and was the muse ofRilke…"With tongue in cheek, Vladimir looked at Alexandra. "And Lou Salomé does not simply preside at a salon, fearlesslyunconcerned about her reputation she traveled with these men, appeared with them in fashionable resorts and at publicparties. Amazing!"He stretched the last word with such a sigh that Alexandra began to laugh. "Maybe you also need a sensuous muse like129