Although it was late in the evening when Sergei and his family stepped out into the street, the summer white night lingered to light their way. Carrying their travel cases, they walked two or three blocks in search of a poor drosky that would have an inexpensive fare. Their destination was Oleg Chavkin’s home, which was some distance away.
Sergei was silent as they walked, his shoulders hunched and tense as if they supported a heavy burden. Anna held her peace, although she was terribly disappointed in losing the opportunity to stay with Mariana. She knew St. Petersburg well enough to realize that Oleg Chavkin’s address was not in the best part of town. She also knew that if Sergei had pressed his need regarding a place to stay more strongly, and not submitted to his pride, they might now be settling into a soft warm bed and her sleepy children would be able to rest. She felt justified in also being a little upset.
After walking for fifteen minutes, Andrei began complaining. “Mama, my feet are sore.” He was too young to have any awareness of the tensions in the air. And a few minutes later he repeated, “I’m tired.”
Yuri asked in a voice several octaves higher than normal, “When are we going to stop?”
Sergei halted and turned sharply on the boys. “You two quit whining! We’re all tired!”
“But Papa—” began Andrei.
The boy didn’t finish because Sergei reached down and gave Andrei a firm swat on the seat of his pants. “You know better than to talk back to me, Andrei!”
The boy burst into tears, more from surprise and shame than from any physical pain.
“Sergei!” Anna didn’t know why she spoke to her husband in such a reproachful tone, except that she, too, was tired and disappointed, and she did not often see Sergei strike his children in anger.
Sergei picked up his traveling case and took the two smaller packs the boys had been carrying. He continued walking, increasing his pace and taking such long, determined steps that the others had difficulty keeping up. But that pace, with the added weight of the two packs, was not one easily maintained, especially by a man who had not had healthy lungs for many years. In five minutes he was huffing and puffing and coughing.
Still they could not find a cab. Sergei tried to hail a luxurious cab, but the driver took one look at the poorly outfitted family and drove off. There were simply no poor droskys in this affluent neighborhood.
They walked several more minutes, with Sergei coughing continuously. Finally Anna could stand it no longer.
“Sergei, why do you have to be so stubborn? Would you slow down before we end up having to carry you?”
He stopped. “I’m sorry to have made your evening miserable.”
“I have been more miserable in my life, Sergei.”
After a moment of silence, Sergei blurted out what was eating away at him. “Anna, I could not take another minute of Dmitri’s grudging hospitality. God forgive me for my pride, but a man can only take so much!”
“I wish I could understand, I truly do,” said Anna.
Sergei could not speak because of another bout of coughing. When they came to a bench at a deserted trolley stop, they all sat down. After a few moments of rest Sergei was able to speak.
“Perhaps it was a mistake to come here, Anna,” he said. “I don’t think I am as ready as I thought to return to the home of my youth.” He sighed, more from frustration than from shortness of breath. “I was once a man of distinction here, an honored member of the Imperial Guard, a prince who could walk among the scions of the highest society with his head high. When you knew me then, would I have ever made you walk because I couldn’t find a cheap drosky? Anna, the Fedorcenkos were always better than the Remizovs—richer, more important, leaders of society. They clung to our coattails. Yet, tonight, they managed to make me feel like dirt. The way Eugenia looked at me! The way Dmitri shook my hand as if it were contaminated. We used to be friends; I used to lend him money and get him out of scrapes. I know it’s wrong of me, and prideful, but I simply could not take that treatment. And I doubt I will be able to do so in the future. I only wish you and the children did not have to suffer because of me—and my stubbornness.”
Anna scooted closer to him and put her arm around him. “Thank you for giving me a chance to understand, my love. And I must say this, though it may not help much: To me, and to those who know and love you, Sergei, you have never ceased being a man of distinction. You are at this moment a far better man than Dmitri ever was, even more so than when you were a wealthy prince.”
“You will forgive me for refusing a warm, comfortable bed for the night?”
“One was never offered, but I forgive you without question.”
“Ah, my wife, my princess, whose value is beyond all the treasure on earth!” He kissed her cheek, then with a carefree shrug, ignoring the fact that they were on a public street, gave her a passionate kiss full on her lips. Yuri and Andrei giggled and looked away. Sergei chuckled with them. “Boys, count yourselves blessed if you find a woman half as good as your mother—because there are none better! Now, we must think of our immediate future. I might be able to muster up enough humility to return—”
“No, Sergei! We can manage without Dmitri. And to be completely honest, I would not wish to stoop to having to ask them for a favor. If our position becomes dire enough, perhaps, but we are hardly at that point yet. If only Misha were here, he’d have some ideas to offer. But there is still Oleg.”
“Then, for now you don’t mind looking him up? It’s not a nice neighborhood where he lives. We have enough money for a couple of nights in an inexpensive hotel. But without knowing what the future holds, I don’t like using so much of our cash so soon.”
“Oleg’s will be fine.”
They were all feeling better when they left the bench and resumed their trek, and the warmth of activity took away the late night cold, even though it didn’t help their aching, tired feet. Within ten minutes they found a cab and, after haggling over the price, as was expected of them, they were on their way. The driver, however, refused to go into the neighborhood Sergei indicated, especially since it was so late, and dropped them about two blocks from their destination. After another ten-minute walk they found where Oleg Chavkin lived.
It was as dark and dingy a tenement as any Anna had ever seen. She tried to tell herself that it would look better in the daylight, but that was a small comfort. She thought about how proudly Oleg’s father had spoken of his son, who was supposed to be a successful weaver in the city.
The steep flight of stairs was unlighted and the wood on several steps was rotten. Yuri stumbled once on the way, and would surely have fallen and broken some bones had Sergei not been behind him to break his fall. The smells of dampness, rotting food, and human waste were nearly overwhelming. Anna sensed that the stench would be even worse behind the closed doors along the trash-strewn corridor. It was about ten o’clock in the evening and the building was fairly quiet, with only the occasional sounds of crying infants pervading the dismal scene. Anna worried that this was a poor time to call on someone, for it was apparent that most of the residents had already gone to bed. But they had no choice. They had come too far.
Sergei found the number of Oleg’s room and knocked on the door. An infant cry penetrated the closed door, and for a moment it seemed as if there would be no other greeting. Then a scraping sound approached the door.
“Who is it?” came a young feminine voice.
“I am a friend of Oleg Chavkin, from Katyk. My name is Sergei Christinin.”
Several moments passed, broken only by quiet whispers from inside the apartment. Anna could not make out what was said, but soon the door opened and the familiar face of Oleg greeted them. Much to their relief, he gave Sergei a big bear hug.
“A face from home! A true vision from God!” Tears stood in the man’s eyes.
“We feel the same way seeing you, Oleg Levovich!”
“Come in, come in!”
“We do not want to impose. We gave you no warning.”
“Ha! Imagine that! Do you need an engraved invitation like as if you were going to the tsar’s house? I am honored to have you. We are both from Katyk, are we not?”
Nothing else needed to be said. In this big city, being from the same village practically made two men brothers. Sergei and Anna and their children were welcome to stay as long as they wanted. It was a generous offer, especially considering that besides Oleg and his wife and four children, there were twenty others—men, women and children—occupying the small two-room flat.
After news from home was exchanged, Oleg designated a cramped corner in the back room for Sergei and his family to sleep. There were no beds, either for the guests or for most of the residents. It was hard, cold floor or nothing. Anna was thankful she’d had the foresight to squeeze two blankets into their travel cases before leaving home. She laid one of the blankets under them. It was a paltry padding, but it was something. The other, she wrapped around the children. She and Sergei clung to each other for warmth. Even summer nights could be chilly; Anna wondered what it would be like in winter.
That miserable evening, if Anna thought once or twice of the fact that she was married to a prince of Russia and could have had a dozen blankets and a feather bed had they chosen, she couldn’t help herself. Sergei was thinking the same.
“I just thought of my father’s house,” he whispered in her ear. “That huge place that now sits empty could house a hundred people in luxurious comfort.”
“No doubt,” said Anna, “they’d try to squeeze three hundred into it!”
They chuckled quietly.
Suddenly Anna realized that she was content where she was—with her husband and children close to her, and her daughter only a versta away, instead of a few hundred. She might not like the stench, the cold, the discomfort. She might grumble and complain a bit, but these externals were not the sum total of her existence. She fell asleep that night knowing she possessed more at that moment than Dmitri and Eugenia would ever have in their gilded palace.