Fall of Giants

They went in for tea in a glow of perspiration. “Summon up your reserves of tolerance and goodwill,” Gus said outside the drawing room. “Mother can be an awful snob.”

But Mother was on her best behavior. She kissed Rosa on both cheeks and said: “How wonderfully healthy you both look, all flushed with exercise. Miss Hellman, I’m so glad to meet you, and I hope we’re going to become friends.”

“You’re very kind,” said Rosa. “It would be a privilege to be your friend.”

Mother was pleased by the compliment. She knew she was a grand dame of Buffalo society, and she felt it was appropriate that young women should show her deference. Rosa had divined that in an instant. Clever girl, Gus thought. And generous, too, given that in her heart she hated all authority.

“I know Fritz Hellman, your brother,” Mother said. Fritz played violin in the Buffalo Symphony Orchestra. Mother was on the board. “He has a wonderful talent.”

“Thank you. We are very proud of him.”

Mother made small talk, and Rosa let her take the lead. Gus could not help remembering that once before he had brought home a girl he planned to marry: Olga Vyalov. Mother’s reaction then had been different: she had been courteous and welcoming, but Gus had known her heart was not in it. Today she seemed genuine.

He had asked his mother about the Vyalov family yesterday. Lev Peshkov had been sent to Siberia as an army interpreter. Olga did not go to many social events, and seemed taken up with raising their child. Josef had lobbied Gus’s father, the senator, for more military aid to the Whites. “He seems to think the Bolsheviks will be bad for the Vyalov family business in Petrograd,” Mother had said.

“That’s the best thing I’ve heard about the Bolsheviks,” Gus had replied.

After tea they went off to change. Gus was disturbed by the thought of Rosa showering in the next room. He had never seen her naked. They had spent passionate hours together in her Paris hotel room, but they had not gone as far as sexual intercourse. “I hate to be old-fashioned,” she had said apologetically, “but somehow I feel we should wait.” She was not much of an anarchist really.

Her parents were coming for dinner. Gus put on a short tuxedo jacket and went downstairs. He mixed a Scotch for his father but did not have one himself. He felt he might need his wits about him.

Rosa came down in a black dress and looked stunning. Her parents appeared on the dot of six o’clock. Norman Hellman was wearing white tie and tails, not quite right for family dinner, but perhaps he did not own a tuxedo. He was an elf of a man with a charming grin, and Gus saw immediately that Rosa took after him. He drank two martinis rather quickly, the only sign that he might be tense, but then he refused any more alcohol. Rosa’s mother, Hilda, was a slender beauty with lovely long-fingered hands. It was hard to imagine her as a housemaid. Gus’s father took to her immediately.

As they sat down to eat, Dr. Hellman said: “What are your career plans, Gus?”

He was entitled to ask this, as the father of the woman Gus loved, but Gus did not have much of an answer. “I’ll work for the president as long as he needs me,” he said.

“He’s got a tough job on his hands right now.”

“That’s true. The Senate is making trouble about approving the Versailles peace treaty.” Gus tried not to sound too bitter. “After all Wilson did to persuade the Europeans to set up the League of Nations, I can hardly believe that Americans are turning up their noses at the whole idea.”

“Senator Lodge is a formidable troublemaker.”

Gus thought Senator Lodge was an egocentric son of a bitch. “The president decided not to take Lodge with him to Paris, and now Lodge is getting his revenge.”

Gus’s father, who was an old friend of the president as well as a senator, said: “Woodrow made the League of Nations part of the peace treaty, thinking we could not possibly reject the treaty, therefore we would have to accept the league.” He shrugged. “Lodge told him to go to blazes.”

Dr. Hellman said: “In fairness to Lodge, I think the American people are right to be concerned about article ten. If we join a league that guarantees to protect its members from aggression, we’re committing American forces to unknown conflicts in the future.”

Gus’s reply was quick. “If the league is strong, no one will dare to defy it.”

“I’m not as confident as you about that.”

Gus did not want to have an argument with Rosa’s father, but he felt passionately about the League of Nations. “I don’t say there would never be another war,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “I do think that wars would be fewer and shorter, and aggressors would gain little reward.”

“And I believe you may be right. But many voters say: ‘Never mind the world-I’m interested only in America. Are we in danger of becoming the world’s policeman?’ It’s a reasonable question.”