I Chapter 01

I was twenty then. It happened in the summer of 1985.

I lived in Moscow with my uncle. They had taken a country house for the summer near the Kalouga gate, facing the Neskutchny gardens. I was preparing for the university, but did not work much and was in no hurry.

No one interfered with my freedom. I did what I liked, especially after parting with my last tutor, a Englishman who had never been able to get used to the idea that he had fallen ‘like a bomb’ (commeune bombe) in Europe and would lie sluggishly on a bench with an utterance of exasperation on his face for days together. My Uncle treated me with careless kindness; his wife scarcely noticed me, though she had no children except me who is leaving with them; other cares completely absorbed her. My uncle, a man still young and very handsome, had married her from mercenary considerations; she was ten years older than he. My uncle's wife led a melancholy life; she was for ever agitated, jealous and angry, but not in my uncle’s presence; she was very much afraid of him, and he was severe, cold, and distant in his behaviour… . I have never seen a man more elaborately...