Konrad and Alexandra (PDF) - Rolf Gross

19.An unexpected encounter with Vladimir1904On a summer morning of the year 1904 Vladimir opened the door of Kluchkov’s bookshop on Liteini Boulevard. The bellover the door chimed. He was met by the familiar cloud of dust and stale tobacco smoke. As he closed the door a sharpsense of danger attacked him from the back. He stopped and carefully turned around but could not see any cause .The old bookseller peered at him over his reading glasses. "Good day, Vladimir Vladimirovich! You have become a rarevisitor lately."The foreboding of an impending disaster hung over St. Petersburg, the revolution appeared imminent. Vladimir’s fatherhad been detained again because of his connections to the Socialists. Valdimir had to be careful, spies and informers forthe Okhrana were everywhere. He addressed the old man. "Vitali Ivanovich, have you seen my first volume of poetry? Itshould have appeared weeks ago."The bookseller took a puff on his pipe and shook his balding head. "Don’t worry, the volume is being held for furtherscrutiny until after your father has been released. You know the way the censors work."Annoyed, Vladimir bit his lip. "But it contains harmless lyrics, the memories of a sensuous summer, love poems, nothingpolitical.""So, you will see it very soon, I am sure. Can I do anything else for you today?""I have not been in town for months, may I browse the shelves?"Victor Ivanovich smiled and invited him in with his hand. "Be my guest. I am most happy to see you here."Vladimir’s apprehension had not lessened. He peered into the cavernous, dark shop with its rows of bookshelves. Hewas alone with the old man, whom he knew well. He gave himself a push.As he passed the corner of the first shelf he saw who waited for him.She sat hidden behind the stack on a low stool next to two piles of books and looked at him amused. In a simple grayShantung silk printed with small orange leaves, she looked even more alluring than he remembered. Over her sternalcavity hung a shimmering black opal on a thin, hand-wrought gold chain. Her blue eyes mocked him affectionately.Without a word Vladimir bent down and kissed her hand with a tender brush of his lips.She let him feel the pleasure he gave her, the irony around her mouth disappeared.Vladimir recovered his voice. "My God, Alexandra, for two people living in the same city it has been an eternity since wehave last met. When was it that I last saw you?""At Becky’s house, on the day when we looked at her father’s pictures.""You were pregnant then, I remember.""Yes, Otto is four!""Has it been that long?"He had recovered his nonchalance and with a charming, but calculated blush regressed. "Do you remember the summerball in the Botanical Gardens? I had a crush on you then, and today you look even more gorgeous."He stood towering over her.She looked up at him and sighed. "Vladimir the Beautiful, always carefully choosing his words! I am still in love with yourRussian."Bending forward—the opal described a long pendulous arc out of her décolleté—she picked up a book from her pile, andheld it up to him. "I am looking for a new novel or a volume of poetry for Konrad. As you know I am not up to date onRussian literature. Would you help me?"He bent down, took the book, and squatted next to her. She had collected two piles, a Russian and a German one. Mostof the Russian books were classical literature, but then he discovered a slim volume of poetry by Alexander Blok that hadjust appeared in print."Blok is beyond doubt one of our best Russian poets. Personally I find this collection too religious, but so are our times,and Blok will change. His new, unpublished poetry is very exciting."He handed her the Blok and watched her leaf through the slim volume. She seemed more feminine, less provocative.Her closeness confused him. He attacked the German pile and immediately found two noteworthy volumes, a collectionof poetry by Rilke and the Buddenbrooks by Thomas Mann."To some Rilke is the greatest living poet, and the novel by Mann appeared a few years ago. It is very good, Irecommend it highly."She thanked him, collected the three volumes, and got up. "Are you busy? You could take me to a café where we can sitand talk more comfortably than here."She paid, and he carried the bag with the books for her. Out of sight of the bookseller she put her arm into his, and, welleducatedgentleman he was, he adjusted his step to hers.63