Berezovo: A Revolutionary Russian Epic

“You’re wrong, you know,” she said breathlessly as they negotiated the ruts together. “It’s not the jump that is dangerous. It’s the fall afterwards.”

The hotel dining room was deserted. After sitting a few minutes waiting for a waiter to appear, Chevanin set off in search of the missing staff. When he returned he was clutching an open bottle of brandy and two glasses. He held them up for Yeliena’s inspection.

“Look!” he exclaimed with a broad grin. “Everybody is the same tonight! The whole town has gone crazy and the kitchen is deserted. Isn’t it wonderful?”

He poured out two generous measures and passed one to Yeliena.

“Is that how you feel?” she asked quietly. “Crazy?”

“I feel… I feel,” he began, but in his excitement the words failed him. He gave up and instead made a circling motion above his head. In spite of herself, the effect was so comic that Yeliena laughed. Raising her glass to him, she quickly drained it, smacking her lips as she put it back on the table. Chevanin, his glass still halfway to his lips, blinked in surprise.

“If I tried to do that,” he joked, “I would be drunk in no time.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Yeliena said, pushing the empty glass towards him across the table and indicating that she wanted another. “Drink is like a sleigh on a cold night, or a doctor when you are in trouble. It’s never there when you want it most. Have you brought your cigarettes?”

Refilling her glass, he nodded.

“Give me one, please.”

He did as he was bid. Reaching into his pocket for a box of matches he remarked, “I still can’t get used to seeing you smoking.”

“Don’t let it bother you,” she murmured.

He lit her cigarette for her. Leaning back in her seat, her eyes half closed behind the veil of smoke, she regarded him coolly.

“So, you enjoyed yourself this evening?” she asked.

“It’s been the best evening of my whole life,” he said, beaming. “I shall remember it until the day I die.”

“And what was so special about it?”

Still smiling, Chevanin looked down into his glass and shook his head.

“Now you are teasing me. You know very well.”

“No, I don’t. Tell me.”

Looking up, he gazed earnestly into her eyes.

“The most special moment, Yeliena, was when you kissed me,” he said simply. “That kiss onstage. It told me everything.”

“Everything?” declared Yeliena, arching one eyebrow.

“Yes! When a woman kisses a man like that, she is saying that she loves him.”

“Anton,” she corrected him gently, “when a woman kisses a man like that, she is saying goodbye.”

For a moment, her words did not seem to make any impression on Chevanin. Then as the realisation of what she had said dawned upon him, Yeliena saw the blood drain from his face.

“Oh no,” he said weakly.

“Have some more brandy.”

“No… oh no.”

Pouring out the brandy, she leant across the table and held the glass to his lips. He took it automatically, his hand trembling so that some of the liquor spilled onto the table cloth.

“Drink it,” she commanded.

Still dazed, he obeyed, coughing as the liquor burned the back of his throat.

“I’m sorry, Anton Ivanovich.”

“But why? Why?”

“Just… because,” she said with a sad smile. “It’s all my fault. Don’t blame yourself. I was wrong. I see that now. It would have been far better if Modest Tolkach had kept the part.”

“You can’t mean that!” he cried.

“I do,” she told him. “If he had played Smirnov instead of you, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you.”

“But you did! You did fall in love with me. So, why are you doing this?”

Stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray she reached across the table and took his hand.

“Listen, Anton,” she said warmly. “There’s a huge difference between falling in love and loving someone; all the difference in the world. Nothing could stop me falling in love with you. Heaven knows I tried not to. But never once, in all the time that we have spent together, never once did I stop loving Vasili. And it’s because of the love I share with him, because it would hurt him so much if he found out about us, that we cannot go on like this.”

“Is it just because you are married to him and not to me? Is that it?”

“Partly that,” she replied, picking her words with care. “You see, when you fall in love, anything is possible. You said so yourself, tonight. You feel that you can jump over houses, remember? That’s what happens when you fall in love: the whole world seems a little crazy. There is nothing that you can do about it. That is why it is so wonderful, why, perhaps I wanted to feel that way again. But when you love someone, really love them, then it’s the opposite. Don’t you see? It’s not the things that you can do but the things that you can’t do, you don’t do to each other that matter; that keeps the love you share alive. When you fall in love, it’s all flowers, laughter and happiness. But for love to endure you need patience, self sacrifice and, above all, trust.”

Lifting his hand, she squeezed his fingers impatiently.