Konrad and Alexandra (PDF) - Rolf Gross

first inklings of puberty, she stumbled on a couple in a haystack in late summer…Alexandra skipped a chapter. Thamila befriended a German mountain climber who as guest at her father’s castleprepared for an attempt to scale Ushba. She fell in love with him, rode after him to warn him of an impending snowstorm,and now, thought Alexandra, comes the defloration in the ice fields. But no, after lots of hot flushes and a first kiss, theexplorer and Thamila rode home together—and on the way his horse stumbled and lost a shoe. "No," cried Alexandra, "itcannot be!" Thamila lost her virginity on horseback! A graphic description of how he pushed at her innocent crotch untilher underpants slipped aside—and predictably, she melted in unforeseen pleasures."I am sure I never told him our story," Alexandra said to Konrad, "and I am certain he didn’t hear it from you. How did heget this idea?"Konrad laughed. "Funny, maybe he just made it up. Or he has his own experiences. But it sounds more as if he just readtoo much classical pornography, it is not such an unusual mishap to lose an iron."On the following night Alexandra continued her reading and found that Thamila’s first love ended in tragedy, the Germanfell to his death in an avalanche on a second attempt to scale Ushba. Thank God, he took the knowledge of what hadhappened to Thamila with him to his grave.Lovesick Thamila devoted herself entirely to her adored horse and in another stark scene, dallied with her horse by alakeside. Disgusted, Alexandra threw the book the full length of the room. From where did Vladimir get these episodes?By now she was convinced that they had not sprung from his own head.She confronted Vladimir."Are you shocked?" He mocked her. "You said I could not shock you. I am proud to have proven you wrong. Now I knowthat the book will sell. Not, of course, in the public book stores. I might even have to publish it abroad.""I do find the horse scene by the lake too much. No Svani girl would conceive of such an aberration. But where did youget these episodes from, you can’t tell me that these flowers of evil have sprouted in your own fantasy?""Why not?" His face flushed. "I shouldn’t tell you. All the titillation would fade away. I found both stories in a book ofArabic tales translated by Sir George Herbert, an English gent, thirty years ago."She heaved a sigh of relief. "This is a pathetic procedure to come by pornographic detail."He grinned sarcastically. "Why? Everything has already been thought of or done by somebody else, in this field. But don’tlaugh, I got many useful suggestions for myself from my reading. Relax, this is my last book of this kind, I am nauseatedby what I wrote."This time Alexandra felt too exposed to read him a homily and challenge him to shape up. Maybe he would realize byhimself that he was wasting his talents after he got over this phase in his writings as much as in his own life.She had imagined wild Tamara and him in bed together, but it now seemed that Vladimir was less of an experiencedlover than she had fantasized. A pity, she thought, to be disillusioned by him like this.51.A political refugee at their door1908They were having dinner when the doorbell rang. Konrad went to open the door. After long silence, they heard a womansobbing. Alexandra got up to have a look and let out a cry. Izabel Sisakian hung dissolved in Konrad’s arms.They crowded around her asking questions. What has happened? Where do you come from? Where is Marti?Alexandra had a terrible premonition. She took Izabel inside and made her sit down. Tears were running down Izabel’sface. She laid her head onto her arms on the table and continued to sob heartbreakingly. Slowly she recoveredsufficiently to answer Alexandra's questions."Can I stay with you for a few nights? I come from Baku. Marti has vanished. I lost him."Alexandra heated some water for a bath. Izabel, hollow-eyed, hungry, drawn-out, had not slept for three days. Sheglanced, paranoid, at Helena and Tamara. Konrad assured her, they were trustworthy friends. Later, they gave hersomething to eat and piecewise put together the details of her story.Marti and she had fled St. Petersburg during their absence because of Witte’s sweeps of the revolutionaries. Marti had,for some time, maintained connections to the Bolsheviks. For a while they lived in Yerevan. Marti painted, she gavelessons in French and English. But the primitive life in Yerevan stifled Marti, he became restless. They moved to Tiflis,where they rented a small apartment in the Armenian quarter. There Marti had become ever deeper ensnared by Stalin’sfollowers. He stopped painting and spent his days in Party meetings. They had terrible arguments, had separated several162