Berezovo: A Revolutionary Russian Epic

He wished that it was summer. In summer, he and Yeliena would take a boat out onto the river and lunch al fresco on its banks. Or perhaps, when the Doctor was away, they would take a trap into the forest, deep into the forest where even the birds were silent. They would walk hand in hand amongst the silver birch trees, and they would make love; of that he was sure. Onstage, he felt that she had wanted to give herself to him in that kiss as she had never given herself before. Before that evening, it had been different. She had always pulled away, scalding him; telling him to behave; to be “nice”. And what agonies he had suffered that very afternoon, sitting alone in his room waiting for darkness to fall. He felt a wave of shame now as he recalled how easily tears had sprung to his eyes as he had waited for the curtain to rise. Such emotion had been unmanly and, more importantly, unnecessary. Although she had not said so much (how could she? There had been no time, and too many people around), she had shown that she cared for him; that she still loved him. That was enough.

Putting on his jacket, he drew back the curtain of the small tent-like cubicle that Belinsky had constructed as a dressing room. Skyralenko had already returned to the hall to watch the second play. Crossing the back of the stage, he headed for a second enclosure. Seeing the blankets hung over the door, he gave a discreet cough and called out softly:

“Yeliena? Have you finished changing?”

Receiving no answer, he parted the blankets and, peering in, saw that Yeliena was still dressed in her costume. She was sitting motionless, staring at her reflection in her mirror. Lifting the blanket higher, Chevanin stepped quickly inside.

“What’s the matter, darling? You look as if you have seen a ghost.”

“It’s nothing,” she said quietly.

He offered to fetch her something to drink, but she declined.

“I’ll wait for you outside then,” he told her. “We can watch the rest of the play. Tolkach is having a terrible time.”

“I think I would prefer not to stay, thank you,” she said, wiping the lipstick from her mouth. “I’m quite tired. I’d rather go straight home.”

“In that case, I’ll escort you,” he offered.

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble,” she said. “I will be perfectly safe on my own.”

He laughed and, bending, kissed her softly on the nape of her neck.

“Don’t be silly. It’s no trouble,” he murmured in her ear. “But hurry, we don’t have much time.”

Another swirl of the blanket and he was gone.

Yeliena raised her eyes to her mirror. Her unsmiling reflection gazed bleakly back at her.

You should have pretended to flinch when Anton kissed you on the neck just now, she scolded herself. You should have shown him that such familiarity was no longer acceptable. Do you see where your behaviour has led you? And it is your fault, because you have led him on. He is little more than a boy and you have let him kiss you, touch you, and stroke you. Did you see how much you have hurt him? He was in tears tonight. You have teased him and come back for more. And now he thinks that everything is fine again and that you and he can go on as before, when you know that it has to end tonight; for your sake, for his sake and for Vasili’s sake. All you have done is make your job harder, and for why? So that you could have your fun.

She began to remove her stage make up off her face using the small pieces of linen rag that Maslov had remembered to provide.