Inside Mishenkov’s tent there is a sequestered section that the general calls “the office”, and his subordinates prefer to call “the bordello”. Mishenkov has planned his office in a way that allows him to repay his high-ranking friends by entertaining them with the finest delights modern life has to offer. Despite the military backdrop, he has managed to put many a lavish salon to shame.
Behind the entrance flap a new world awaits the guests, a space painted in bright colours, scented with rare perfumes and adorned with silky fabrics. A green velvet sofa faces an oak rocking chair with satin cushions, an Asian coffee table in the middle offers a chessboard with pieces carved from seal teeth, an ice bucket nestles a fine bottle of Wyborowa vodka, complemented by the barrel of English rum next to a box of French cigars. There’s a shelf stacked with the plays of Racine and Molière, and a pantry stocked with caviar, fish, ostrich eggs, beef and tropical fruit – how does Mishenkov manage to find tropical fruit? – compels one to sink into the cushions on the sofa and stuff oneself senseless.
Normally, Pazhari would never dare to set foot in Mishenkov’s office in his commander’s absence, but now he ushers in the distinguished guests and invites them to sit on the sofa. If the governor, or even the Czar, had been there, Pazhari would not have dreamed of receiving them in a dusty tent, and would never have served them tepid tea with stale biscuits. In the same way, he wants to entertain the Father to the best of his abilities. So now, the deputy camp commander turns and offers Zizek and Fanny a glass of the Wyborowa, even though he has never tasted it himself. They both refuse, but Zizek is ogling the rum and the colonel takes the hint. Zizek drains his cup and hands it back for a refill. Pazhari smiles to himself and gladly serves him a second.
Like everyone else, Pazhari also knows one version or other of the Father’s legend, although he is certainly not as immersed in the details as Ignat Shepkin. Pazhari’s generosity towards Fanny and Zizek does not surprise his troops nor his guests. Fanny wonders if perhaps Pazhari’s own life hadn’t been saved thanks to one of Yelena Venediktova’s letters, and if not his, then perhaps the life of his father, or a brother or uncle. Only the Devil knows which of them was suspended between life and death until Adjutant Zizek Breshov intervened. But the truth is that Pazhari served in a unit deployed much further north, never met Radzetsky, and none of his family members, as far as he knows, ever served in the army – for the simple reason that he has no family. So it can be said with confidence that his emotional attachment to the Father is not based on gratitude for his life.
Be that as it may, all the soldiers in the camp, from private to captain, are pleased with the way their commander is treating the Father, glad that Zizek Breshov has been given a gracious reception by a scion of Petersburgian nobility. If truth be told, they are wrong about that too. That is, they are wrong not about the gracious reception, but they are wrong about the noble origins of their deputy commander. In order to explain their mistake, we have no choice but to inquire into the past of Col-onel David Pazhari, who might appear to be a marginal figure in Fanny’s and Zizek’s journey yet, by virtue of being deputy camp commander and the officer in charge, will play a decisive role in shaping their destiny.