Konrad and Alexandra (PDF) - Rolf Gross

that she could drive him to the Gippius’ residence."Gippius is the Cerberus and the literary oracle of the Symbolists. Her husband, Dimitri Merezhkovsky, is the founder ofthe Symbolist movement. Merezhkovsky, a shy, intellectual essayist and literary critic, writes; Gippius talks with amerciless, sharp tongue. Her judgment is final among the reigning poets’ movement. Only very recently have a fewyoung poets published without her expressed approval. Blok and Akhmatova are among them."They were flying along the outer Nevsky Prospect. Slowly the houses became less imposing. The gaslights ceased.Darkness invaded the streets. Alexandra could barely make out the few pedestrians on the sidewalks. They passedAlexander Nevsky’s monastery.Vladimir spread his hands. "Why do I submit to this ordeal? She could be very helpful in publishing my poems. Since thedeath of my mother, who was my muse from my earliest attempts at writing poetry, I doubt that I am cut out to be a poet."She was peering into the night. He turned towards her. "I had hoped that you would take her place. You are intelligentand sensitive, you don’t mince words. I like you and would have no problem submitting to your judgment, but you haveno sense for poetry and you are not Russian."Alexandra sighed and looked at him with a thin smile on her lips. "The last reason is probably decisive. I look through thenationalistic, religious, pan-Slavic utterances of the Russian soul and find Russian poetry pathetic if not worse. I do notwant to hurt you, but from reading your slim volume, I get the impression that your heart is too sentimental for the kind ofpoetry which, in your own opinion, needs to be written. Do you remember what you said about Marina Tsvetaeva?"Vladimir pleaded with his hands. "Probably, you are right, but it is still painful for me to admit that to myself. I fear that theWhite Horse is going to say the same. Do you think I should write essays or short stories instead?"She wanted to encourage him, but her eyes were full of pity. "As you said, I am not a literary expert, but I think that yourcultivated Russian language and your sharp, encyclopedic mind could be great instruments for writing contemporaryprose—if you would allow your Russian heart to moderate these gifts. You need more experience to mature your talents.And along that path I am quite willing to be your muse."He took her hand and kissed it.Mme. Gippius lay stretched on a chaise longue chain smoking cigarettes in an overlong cigarette holder, which she usedlike a baton to emphasize her words in sweeping gestures. Alexandra took an immediate dislike to her. Such airs! Mme.Gippius was in her late thirties but looked older. She was embarrassingly sure of her status among the small coterie ofassembled men.Vladimir introduced Alexandra d’Andreae with a few words about her bogus background. Mme. Gippius sized upAlexandra and without taking her cigarette holder from her mouth asked in Russian. "Is she writing too? In German or inItalian?"Vladimir explained that Mme. d’Andreae was a medical doctor.Gippius took her cigarette holder from her mouth, blew a smoke ring, and, waving the cigarette with a dismissive gesture,she sighed histrionically. "Thank God, my Italian is not very good, and the Germans are boors. I prefer French."Alexandra smiled sweetly and thanked her in French for the invitation to her salon of which she claimed to have heardalready in Munich. Gippius’ French turned out to be deplorable.Gippius changed to Russian. With raised eyebrows, extending her hand holding the cigarette towards Vladimir she said."And you, young beginner, I have read some of the pieces you just published. ???????, ?????? ????! God forgive me,love poems! At one time we all went through a great love affair—though not with the daughter of a serf! Are you aSocialist or a follower of the old Tolstoy?"Vladimir winced. With a poisonous smile she registered her hit.On her wink, one of the young men handed her a copy of Vladimir’s slim volume of poetry. Holding the book in her lefthand, Gippius turned her head sideways and blew a cloud of smoke. The young men smiled smugly in expectation of thecoup de grace.Convinced that Alexandra understood no Russian, Gippius continued. "Well, what are you planning next? You are stillvery young and innocent." She waved her cigarette holder in Alexandra’s direction. "Maybe an erotic experience withAnna Karenina would help you, provided she would let you."Vladimir froze.The Horse continued, fully aware that she was cutting Vladimir to the core. "Erotic poems sell like hotcakes these days,and they don’t even have to be good. But to make an impression on us, you have to conceive of better words than thiskitsch."She fanned the cloud of smoke away with his volume and rearranged herself on the fauteuil. Her ample bosom wobbled.A waiter appeared as if on cue with glasses of cognac. Vladimir poured one down in a single gulp and grabbed a secondglass. Alexandra smiled encouragingly at him.Gippius changed her tone. "Seriously, let me give you some advice. Your father is an excellent writer of legal andhistorical essays, why don’t you try to follow his steps? I know I speak to deaf ears, you are too young to appreciate myadvice, you will persist in writing poetry, but we urgently need more decadence."She left him alone thereafter and called on a young man from the audience to read his latest piece of work, a poem in the132