The Russian Century: A Hundred Years of Russian Lives

“Good girl! Sit a minute and tell me about your family. Why are you in an orphanage?” I told her all that I knew. She remained quiet for awhile, then asked: “Do you know how to sing?”

“Yes, I know how to sing everything that my mother sang.”

“Sing something!”

She brought out a guitar and quickly played the chords to Glinka’s romances which I sang for her one after another. I always sang when cleaning or when I was in a meadow or in the woods. But it was very new and pleasant to sing with accompaniment.

“You have a good ear. Have you ever danced?”

“No.”

“Well, come tomorrow. You can peel some pears for my jam, then we’ll try some dancing.” Squeezing the fifty kopeks in my fist, I returned to the center in an elevated mood. This way I would save money for a trip to Leningrad.

The next day, sitting on a stool in the kitchen, I commenced peeling fruit. Without breaking away from the work, I peeled a whole pan of pears. “So! Now, let’s go dance. Follow what I am going to do and try to repeat it. Watch.” She took off her robe and was left in black tights. She made several movements the probability of which, coming from her, was impossible to conceive. I repeated, as best I could, the steps she had executed. “Not bad. Not bad. The main thing here is to have a musical ear and a feel for rhythm. Besides that, you’re pretty and it is pleasant to look at you.” Everything that I heard was totally new and terribly interesting. “Tomorrow I’ll teach you a simple dance.” Having discovered my “choreographic talents,” Tat’iana Ivanovna offered, “Would you like to stay here? I’ll teach you to dance character dances. Sometimes we’ll perform together and you will make a little money. In the mornings you’ll go to school. I’m alone, you’re alone, we’ll both be happier.” This offer seemed exciting to me. Everything at the center was done quickly. Tat’iana Ivanovna pledged that she would send me to

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Chapter Sixteen

school and take care of me, and I pledged that I was willing to live with her. Her address was recorded and we were told that an inspector would visit.

I was given a cheerful room in the small house, with lace curtains and pots of geraniums on the windowsill. A table and chair stood by the window. There was a small closet but I had nothing to put or hang there. A key protruded from the door to my room and Tat’iana Ivanovna ordered me to lock myself in at night.

In the morning she took me to school not far from the Podol. She spoke to the teacher for a long time, then left. There were none like me. All the girls lived nearby with their parents. They scrutinized me unceremoniously with evident contempt. My white canvas shoes in November, my worn dress and old coat did not inspire their confidence. The girl next to whom I was seated moved to the very edge of the seat as if I were a leper. No, I felt better with the street urchins. In that setting everything took place along lines of friendship and appearances had no significance. Besides, everybody looked equally bad.

With an aching heart I decided to ignore them, try to study hard and then leave immediately. But when classes ended, the teacher called me over and told me that I would be eating in school. She gave me meal tickets for a week. This was free for those without parents. She showed me how to get to the dining room. A long table covered with an oilcloth stood in a small clean room. One had to take a plate and go for food to a window which opened into the kitchen. I received a full plate of porridge with sunflower oil and a large piece of bread. Some of the girls ate here also but not even one of them sat next to me. Having finished my porridge, I put the remainder of the bread into my pocket, said thanks at the kitchen window and left. I was also given a notebook and two books for free. Returning to the small house, I saw that Tat’iana Ivanovna was not home. She left the key hanging on a nail in the little shed. Entering, I knocked on her door nevertheless. There was no answer. I took hold of the doorknob, wanting to take a look at the cat, but could not get in. The door was locked. I sat down in my room to do homework. Tat’iana Ivanovna returned at four o’clock. “We will practice the dance now. Did you eat in school?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll have some coffee, then I will call you.” The house came to smell de-liciously of coffee and something else that was good. In half an hour she called me. On the table in front of her were tights, tutus, and garlands. “Now try on all of these. I was fifteen years old when I wore these, but I was short and thin. You are so big that they might fit you now.” I tried everything on in my room. The pink tights and the tutus almost fit, and I presented myself to Tat’iana Ivanovna who found this was not bad at all. “You’ll grow a little

Vera Volkonskaia, Orphaned by Revolution

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