Berezovo: A Revolutionary Russian Epic

Bewildered by how rapidly the terrain of their row had changed, Dr. Tortsov sensed that they were approaching a dangerous crossroads for which he was ill-prepared. A confusion of doubts assailed him. Had he miscalculated after all and an intimacy already existed between Modest Tolkach and his wife? Was that why she had refused to act with him, because their relationship would then become obvious to him? And why was Yeliena suddenly asking about his money and his investments? She had never done that before. This was territory that, on principle, he was determined to keep closed to her, at the very least for the next three months. Her challenge had taken him unawares, leaving him with limited room for manoeuvre. He felt that he needed more insight, if not into her ultimate objective, at least to be able to distinguish between safe and unsafe ground.

More importantly, he thought, is this row only an uncharacteristic fit of temper, a sudden volcanic explosion of female hysteria, or is it the opening cannonade of a carefully rehearsed battle plan? What does she really want?

“Then why did you marry me?” he asked.

Yeliena rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Why does any woman marry?” she cried. “Because I wanted security, Vasili! I wanted to be safe and to be cherished and to have nice things and to be cared for and not go hungry. I thought you were someone I could love and look up to and respect and that we would be happy and have children that I could hold and take care of. Why else would I marry you? Why did you marry me?”

“Because I loved you,” he replied automatically, “and still do.”

Yeliena shook her head in disbelief.

“How can you say that you still love me?” she asked.

“Because I do,” he told her earnestly. “And because I know that you made me complete. Without you I am not whole. There would be a gaping wound in my side which would leave me exposed to life’s cruelties and infections.”

Yeliena regarded him with a sad smile.

“So, in order to keep you whole, I have to stay chained to you in this cage?”

Dr. Tortsov shrugged.

“Well, you said you wanted security,” he replied.

He watched as the fight slowly went out of her, noticing with clinical interest how her body seemed to deflate in defeat. Where a moment before she had appeared powerfully enthroned on the settee, magisterial in her denunciation of her situation, she now sat with her shoulders bowed and her eyes downcast, staring at her hands cradled in her lap; an almost wretched figure slumped against the cushions.

“I am not happy, Vasili,” she told him mournfully. “I feel the bars nestle closer with age. You don’t love me anymore and I’m not sure how I feel about you. There seems to be little point in us going on together.”

Moving quickly, he went and sat down beside her on the settee.

“That’s not true,” he quietly insisted. “I do love you.”

“How can you?” she complained. “You don’t even know who I am anymore.”

“Yes I do,” he told her confidently, “and I love you very, very much. It pains me to see you so unhappy.”

“Can you blame me?” she asked with a sniff. “You don’t listen to me. You never listen to me.”

“Yes, I do,” he repeated, reaching for her hand. But Yeliena refused to be mollified.

“No you don’t!” she declared indignantly, pulling her hand away. “You preach about Duty and Responsibility. Where is your duty and responsibility to me? And you tell me that you love me and all the time you are planning to have me embrace your boss in the full view of the town. How could you do that if you cared for me?”

“I have already explained,” he replied patiently, “that that was no doing of mine.”

Edging closer to her, he reached out to put an arm around her. Yeliena flinched and moved further away from him on the cushions.

“No, it’s no good,” she told him unhappily. “You should have taken more care of me, Vasili.”

“What do you mean?” he said, concerned that their row might flare up again.

“I am not happy living like this.”

He nodded slowly as if in sympathy with her position.

“Then let me make amends,” he offered.

“If things don’t change,” she said, half to herself, “I feel that I will do something… something crazy that will hurt us both.”

Looking at her downcast profile Dr. Tortsov smiled reassuringly.

“There is nothing you could do,” he said confidently, “that would be so bad that it would stop me loving you.”

Yeliena slowly raised her eyes and looked at him enquiringly.

“Nothing?” she said doubtfully.

“Nothing,” he repeated. “My love for you is unconditional. I don’t care what the town thinks. You are the most precious thing in my life, even more than my work.”

For the first time that afternoon an expression of amusement flitted across Yeliena’s face.

“Ha!” she mocked him. “That’s not true.”

“Yes it is,” he said.

Encouraged by her smile, he reached for her hand again.