Berezovo: A Revolutionary Russian Epic

“Of course not!” repeated Chevanin. “But you must realise that Tolkach has gained some powerful friends. What’s more, he is a coward. If you go to him now and tell him to keep away from Yeliena Mihailovna and that he should resign his role as The Bear Smirnov, then he might very well do the first – almost certainly I would say – but there’s a good chance that, just to spite you, he won’t do the second. He has the Mayor’s backing, and he’ll know that the last thing you will want is to give fuel to gossips. So all he has to do is sit tight. And if you refuse to direct him, everyone will know why.”

“And if I don’t refuse?”

“Then it will look as if you approve of his behaviour and you won’t be able to keep him away from Yeliena.”

The Doctor drew deeply on his cigarette.

The horns of the dilemma, he thought, and the horns of the cuckold.

“So what should I do?” he asked aloud.

Chevanin took a deep breath.

“A moment ago you paid me the greatest honour of calling me your friend,” he said. “Well, I have an idea, but I don’t know whether it will work.”

“Let’s hear it, anyway.”

“I spoke to Yevgeni Svortsov yesterday. I was buying some meat for my supper and the subject of the play came up. He’s beginning to have second thoughts. He really doesn’t want to take part in the second play.”

“So?”

“Don’t you see?” explained Chevanin patiently. “If you let him off the hook, say because of ill health, you can offer the part of ‘Tolkachov’ to Modest Tolkach.”

“To Tolkach?”

“Yes! You tell him that, as Hospital Administrator, the role of Smirnov is beneath him. That you consider his talents would be wasted on such a small part and that you want him for the part of ‘Tolkachov’, the main character in the second play.”

“But there is nothing wrong with Svortsov,” Dr. Tortsov protested. “He’s as strong as an ox.”

“Yes,” agreed Chevanin,” and with just the same amount of talent for acting.”

Dr. Tortsov frowned as he thought through his assistant’s proposal.

“What if Tolkach refuses to change parts?”

“In that case,” replied Chevanin with a grin, “he would have to explain to you why he is refusing the better role. And why it is so important to him that he plays the ‘Bear’. You see, he has no choice. Either he does as you say, or he reveals himself as an adulterer who is trying to compromise another man’s wife.”

Dr. Tortsov rolled his eyes in disbelief.

“But he will already know,” he objected, “that I know about that after I have confronted him.”

“Then don’t confront him!” cried Chevanin. “That way, he will not be sure whether you know about his intentions or not. There is plenty of time after the play to settle accounts with him; all the time in the world. And don’t forget, you aren’t alone. Many other people want to see him get his come-uppance.”

The Doctor hesitated.

“You mean,” he said slowly, “that I am to say nothing about this appalling situation?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Chevanin insisted. “Be a complete innocent. It’s the only way with someone as wicked as him. You must outmanoeuvre him.”

The notion seemed fantastic. To fight guilt with innocence and by doing so, defeat it. Was it possible? It certainly wasn’t honourable. Yet, much to the Doctor’s surprise, the more he thought about Chevanin’s unconventional suggestion, the more it appealed to him.

“I like your idea,” he said at last. “I like it very much. But who shall we get to play ‘Smirnov’?”

Chevanin blew out a long column of smoke.

“That’s simple,” he said coolly, “I’ll play ‘The Bear’. I’d be quite happy to.”

For the first time Dr. Tortsov smiled and shook his head.

“You? You are far too young, Anton Ivanovich. It’s a part for a much older man.”

“With a bit of stage make up, and some padding, I could do it,” Chevanin countered. “That way, at least you would know that Yeliena Mihailovna would feel safe with me acting opposite her. And it would give me the greatest pleasure of helping you frustrate Modest Tolkach’s plans.”

“I’m not sure,” the Doctor said doubtfully. “It’s a big part. When would you have time to learn all those lines?”

“We can rehearse them every day here in the surgery,” Chevanin reassured him with a smile, “until you are satisfied I am word perfect. And I can come to your house when you want to rehearse the pair of us together. Trust me, Vasili Semionovich, as a friend and colleague, this is the best way.”