Two Suns

Chapter 8: «To Moscow…» and in Moscow

The Mirachevsky newlyweds' journey to Moscow took them through the Southern Railway Station in Kharkov, one of the largest in the former Russian Empire, where they had to make a transfer. After enduring several tedious hours at the station, they finally found themselves aboard the train. Olga, exhausted by the dramatic events of the past twenty-four hours, was slowly dozing off…

Her life up until that point had been a challenging struggle for survival. They lived in a rented apartment with the girls as dormitories were scarce, and those fortunate enough to secure a spot were not to be envied. The new authorities strangely allocated the most unsuitable premises for students in Kiev: the former museum of Kyiv-Pechersk Lavra, barracks once housing prisoners during the war, and even St. Michael's Golden-Domed Monastery, now devoid of its famous gilding, was converted into a dormitory. A sign on its gates read: «Housing for proletarian students.» Olga had to visit her classmates there and recalled the narrow cells and the cheerful, despite cramped conditions, residents.

Leonid gazed at his wife («wife!» – he enjoyed using that unfamiliar word) and tried to discern her thoughts. He was well aware of Olga's reserved nature; even in her school years, she sometimes appeared older than her peers.

«But how frightened she was at the station! And not for herself, that's for sure.» He realized with astonishment that he was grateful to that country boy, the rejected suitor, for the dangerous incident that had revealed Olga's feelings, of which Mirachevsky had, perhaps, not been entirely sure until then. Yes, she was pleased. Yes, she had accepted the «marriage proposal.» They got married. But his passionate temperament craved more. Now, the events of yesterday's fright unequivocally proved that their love was mutual.

«What are you pondering?» Leonid's question came so unexpectedly that Olga flinched.

Unsure of how to express herself, she didn't respond right away:

«Perhaps, about the peculiarities and twists of fate.»

He understood, of course. He was contemplating the same thing himself. But he wanted to uplift her spirits, so he asked with mock indignation:

«Are you calling our marriage a twist of fate?!»

«Well, if you think about it, we're truly stepping into a new life right now, at the gates…»

«Wow! That's what a degree in philology gets you – the ability to string words together like that! I wouldn't have thought of that. But it's late; let's get some rest.»

* * *

The unpleasant residue of the incident at Lazirky station finally dissolved as the train slowed down and glided through the Moscow suburbs, and Olga's heart fluttered with excitement: «To Moscow, to Moscow…»

The Bryansk railway station, the southwestern gateway to the capital, was initially dominated by the imposing platform – Mirachevsky couldn't help but grin as his wife descended to the platform, visibly astonished by the glass-and-steel structure spanning over the tracks. The place erupted with loud exclamations, spiraling into the vortex of customary commotion, with helpful porters weaving through the fray, leading to a bustling square teeming with individuals, carriages, and assorted vehicles.

For Olga, the first sign of their new life was a ride in a taxi-car, a recent addition to the capital's transportation.

Leonid whistled for the porters and hurried towards the bus stop, suggesting, «Let's go for a ride! It's a pity we won't catch a breeze.»

«How far is it?» Olga asked.

«Not that far. Are you tired?» asked Leonid, sensing her agitation.

«A little.» Olga was really out of her depth.

«But, Madame Mirachevsky,» he playfully bowed, «you'll get a glimpse of the city.»

They hopped into a sleek black car with a yellow stripe on the side and a canvas top, gracefully maneuvering through the crowd as they crossed the Borodinsky Bridge and ventured farther into the city. «Here is the Moscow River! The Garden Ring!» proudly narrated the aspiring railroad engineer. «He seems to excel as a tour guide too!» Olga couldn't help but admire her husband in every way.

Soon, the car entered a serene alley, and the bustling city noise vanished as if it had never existed. As they reached the final destination of their journey, Leonid's home in Tryokhprudny Lane, the vastness of Moscow seemed to shrink to merely eight square meters. It was an unexpected revelation…

Olga stood in the middle of the small, narrow room furnished with a bed, a small table, a chair, a coat rack, and a bookcase. In the corner, a hospital-like bedside table served as a cupboard with a primus stove resting on a metal tray (a thoughtful addition!).

Seeing her hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her and said, «Wife, I honestly warned you that my accommodation is far from ideal. Private rooms in Moscow are extremely rare now, especially in the center. But look, I moved the primus stove here so I wouldn't have to suffer in the communal kitchen.»

Embarrassed that Leonid might perceive her involuntary – not disappointment (as she was no stranger to the hardships of communal living) but rather surprise – Olga explained, «You know, it's just such a contrast…»

«A contrast?» he inquired.

«Yes, exactly. After the vastness of the big city…»

«Ah, I see now!» he breathed a sigh of relief. «It's a thing! Moscow is an intriguing city; you'll be surprised more than once as you get used to it.»

And Olga did get used to it. She quickly learned to navigate a city she had never visited but had only read about. Of course, at first, Leonid took her everywhere: the Patriarch's Ponds (only one of the three still existed), the boulevards, Arbat, Kuznetsky Bridge, Petrovka, Red Square, theaters, and, of course, the stores.

«You need a new dress!» Leonid declared confidently the day after their arrival. «And shoes!»

Mirachevsky still had two years left until graduation, but he couldn't be considered a poor student, thanks to his part-time job as a machinist's assistant, which paid well. Additionally, the NEP (New Economic Policy) allowed him to engage in commerce without fear. Since his days in Kyiv, Mirachevsky had skillfully organized his life and involved his friends in ventures that benefited everyone. In short, the student had some money, though not much. And now, Leonid was doing his best to augment their finances. He bought haberdashery goods from the capital and brought them to Kyiv, and in return, transported sunflower seeds from Ukraine to the capital.

Summer was approaching, and it was time for a vacation. However, there was no honeymoon in sight, so they had to accept it. As he departed, she continued to settle in and soon began to look like a true Muscovite. The streetcars «A» and «B» were almost always crowded, making leisurely walks more appealing. Leonid was right – Olga adored the contrasts of Moscow the most. Turning from the bustling Tverskaya Street onto a boulevard and then into some lane near Arbat, she felt transported back to the last century, expecting to encounter a lady with a dog, adjusting her hat, any moment. Beloved literary works seemed to come to life here, and their characters felt almost tangible.

* * *

Certainly, the reality in the country had evolved significantly, far from the world of classical literature. Party discussions, adopted economic plans, the fight against illiteracy, and the promotion of chemical knowledge under the slogan «Mass protection from gases – the cause of the working people!» now dominated the scene.

The events of the war anxiety in 1927, the crisis in relations with England, the rupture of diplomatic ties, Chamberlain's ultimatum, talks of the inevitability of war, and the revived hopes for the Bolsheviks' downfall passed unnoticed by Olga. An extensive propaganda campaign against the «conspiracy of the world bourgeoisie,» Polish pans, and internal counterrevolution unfolded against the backdrop of food difficulties. Knowledgeable individuals hinted at impending changes and advised exchanging paper money for tsarist gold rubles. However, Leonid remained calm and endeavored to protect his family and home from any potential shocks.

* * *

By the fall, it became evident that the Mirachevsky family was expecting a new addition, and Leonid strongly advised against his pregnant wife taking on any work. Thankfully, Olga was handling the pregnancy quite well. There was only one instance when she felt uncomfortable, during a demonstration they attended to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the October Revolution. The students and teachers of MIIT (Russian University of Transport) marched together, and Olga happily joined Leonid's merry group of friends.

Despite the cold and windy weather, and the long wait for the military parade to finish in the square, the atmosphere was filled with excitement. Bravura music and impassioned speeches resounded from loudspeakers, colorful posters and cartoons floated above the crowd, and the promise of a resolute «answer to Chamberlain» (without a doubt!) stirred the patriotic fervor. As they almost jogged across Red Square (for some inexplicable reason, they had to move quickly), Olga suddenly stopped and turned pale.

«Are you feeling sick?» her husband asked, genuinely worried.

«No, no, I just need to sit down for a moment.»

He helped her to the embankment where he took off his coat and laid it on a damp bench.

«Leonid, why?» she inquired.

«Just sit down and get some rest,» he replied.

Her discomfort passed swiftly, and in the following months, it hardly resurfaced.

* * *

Yet, at times, Olga felt uneasy in Moscow. Her husband was often away from home (no blame on him – he was studying and preparing for exams, while also working part-time), and her relatives were not nearby. «If only mom were alive…» The euphoria of moving to the capital had waned during pregnancy, replaced by a sense of loneliness. Despite the care and attention from her 23-year-old soon-to-be father of the child, he couldn't always fully grasp her current emotional state. Even though their room frequently hosted gatherings with friends, and on the rare weekends they had together, they invariably joined friends for outings to the movies or theater. Yet, she yearned for more moments of solitude and privacy…

Letters from her beloved sister, Maria, who at that time resided with her children and mother-in-law at the Tikhaya Pustyn station in the neighboring Kaluga Governorate, brought comfort and support to Olga. Wrapped in a cozy blanket, she read her sister's message: «I am worried about you. Though you don't complain, I can sense that your spirits are not as cheerful. Consider my proposal. It might not be proper to say, but Natalya has taken the place of our mother, and she will warmly welcome you here. The surroundings are delightful. Come, and we will have more fun together.»

Leonid noticed her reading and asked, «Why stay indoors? It's so lovely outside, with the scent of spring in the air. Shall we take a walk?» As he observed her carefully, he inquired, «Are you feeling unwell?»

Silently, Olga handed him the letter. He sat beside her on the bed, read through the lines, and embraced his wife. «Honestly, Id hate to see you go,» he admitted. She remained quiet, and he continued, «I know I haven't been giving you enough attention lately… Your Maria is probably right…» He nodded, as if agreeing with certain thoughts. Then, with his characteristic casualness that charmed everyone, he said, «Still, being in the company of experienced mothers will put you at ease. And I won't worry about leaving you alone.»

«Of course!» Olga exhaled with relief, «You'll be able to prepare for the exams in peace.»

«It's settled. I'll take you there this weekend.»

Everything worked out wonderfully: the next weekend coincided with Easter, granting workers three days of rest. Just like two years ago, they found themselves at Bryansk station, but this time they were only a short distance away from a small station near Kaluga. The Golovachev household immediately felt like home. The surroundings were filled with beauty, and beyond the pine forest lay a gem of the area – the former Tikhonova Pustyn monastery, which lent its name to the station. Although approaching it was not recommended due to the presence of a military unit, the distant view of the still-preserved church domes was a sight to behold.

Strolls in the picturesque countryside had a calming effect on Olga, and she especially enjoyed the small pond, where she lingered by the shore, inhaling the refreshing pine-scented air, reminiscent of her tranquil childhood days at Solonytsya pond.

On his departure, Leonid promised to return in a couple of weeks, on May Day. However, to his wife's joy, he surprised her by arriving on the evening of April 29th. Olga appeared well, rejuvenated, and most importantly, completely serene, even with the approaching important day.

«Natalya, Maria, you are truly magicians!» he exclaimed, laying out the treats he had brought. «Now, I am absolutely certain: we will have a healthy son!»

«We shall see,» Olga and Maria exchanged conspiratorial glances. According to various women's omens, it seemed a girl was expected, and Natalya was convinced of it.

During the night, the contractions began. On May 1, a perfectly healthy baby was born. However, Leonids expectation of a son was not met. It was a daughter – the Mirachevsky's first-born child. Yet, the young father's joy knew no bounds, and he jokingly remarked, «Look how much she enjoyed the November demonstration! She decided to participate in May Day too!»

Olga and Irina, the name chosen by the parents for their daughter, continued to reside in Tikhaya Pustyn for another three months while the head of the family underwent his exams and embarked on a surveying internship. Nevertheless, whenever he had some free time, he unfailingly appeared at the Golovachev residence.

«My Konstantin has a soft spot for his girls,» exclaimed Maria's mother-in-law, «but when it comes to Irina, he simply can't stay away. Oh, how fortunate you are, Olga!»

Indeed, one could hardly imagine a more devoted and caring father.

With almost a full year remaining before graduation, the future looked promising for the young family.

Part II
The Great Turning Point

Chapter 1: Toward Destiny

Mark was not the only one turning the page of his life. The country itself was on the cusp of a new era, where words like «industrialization,» «plan,» and «five-year plan» had become part of everyday parlance. These words now defined the life of the Soviet people, and the nation was abuzz with unprecedented enthusiasm for building, developing, producing, and mining…

However, not everyone rejoiced at the successes of socialist construction, as reported in the newspapers. Detractors and enemies lurked in the shadows, threatened by the onward march of «Our locomotive, fly forward! At the commune is a station…» – the cheerful lyrics of songs broadcasted from every loudspeaker. The state dealt mercilessly with these real enemies, determined to safeguard its vision.

In essence, the Great Turning Point had arrived, reshaping families and destinies, while also paving the way for monumental achievements, albeit at the cost of colossal losses. Yet, at that time, thoughts of these sacrifices were overshadowed by the younger generation's boundless enthusiasm. The youth, untainted by the «cursed tsarist past,» wholeheartedly embraced the opportunity to construct their radiant future. The grand scale of communist ideals and transformative plans mesmerized them with courage and possibilities…

Now, the future of Mark Maretsky rested squarely on his shoulders and the favor of the admissions committee of the military school. In Leningrad, he paid a visit to Grigory Bersov, his mother's brother, who lived on Shpalernaya Street, now renamed Bolshevik Voinov Street, which brought some unintentional reassurance. «A good sign!» Mark thought. «The path to a military career is within reach!»

Shpalernaya Street turned out to be splendid, devoid of any overt military presence. Instead, it boasted impressive houses and even palaces, like the Tauride Palace where the Duma met, along with a prison colloquially known as Shpalerka. Nonetheless, Grigory warmly welcomed his nephew and explained that barracks from Tsarist times still stood, housing the Manege of the Cavalry Regiment and the officers' barracks of the Life Guards Horse Artillery. «First, I should explore the city,» Mark decided the next day as he walked toward the Neva River from Shpalernaya Street (the «revolutionary» names had yet to take hold, and streetcar conductors announced stops in both old and new ways). His destination was the Petrograd side.

Upon reaching the Equality Bridge (aka Troitskiy), Mark paused. This was where the legendary pilot, V. Chkalov, was rumored to have executed his first daring aerial feat, passing between the supports directly over the water. As he envisioned the spectacle, Mark's thoughts drifted back to his first year in Moscow…

* * *

Balancing work at the factory during the day and attending school in the evening, Mark found himself inundated with an abundance of impressions and worries. Childhood fantasies were now a distant memory, as the bustling capital demanded action from those who dared to dream. In various corners of the city, Mark encountered posters from the Dobrolyot society, urging workers to contribute to the construction of an air fleet, along with vibrant agitations from Osoaviakhim. And then, a spectacle that would forever stir his soul – the air parade commemorating the tenth anniversary of the revolution, where the remarkable Valery Chkalov showcased his awe-inspiring skills at Khodynka Field, Central Aerodrome. Though Mark couldn't attend the event in person, he marveled at the aerial acrobatics from a spot amidst the crowd of enthusiastic onlookers.

From that day forth, Mark's dreams began to rekindle, and he applied himself diligently to his studies, meticulously tackling additional assignments. The only aspect he lacked was physical training, but soon, an Osoaviakhim club opened at the factory, and joining was a breeze. Furthermore, he discovered that he could submit an application for admission to the military school directly through the local Osoaviakhim organization, which also facilitated a preliminary medical examination.

* * *

Mark had little concern about his health, as he inherited his father's robust constitution. However, an elderly surgeon during his medical examination, upon observing Mark's posture, hesitated before delivering a verdict and posed an unexpected question:

«Young man, did you sustain any childhood injuries?»

Mark found himself flustered – who hadn't experienced childhood mishaps?

The surgeon continued, «You have a minor spinal deformity. You may get another X-ray, but I doubt it will reveal anything different from what I can see now. I regret to inform you that the flight deck is off-limits for you.»

The revelation was perplexing. «A deformity? How? From where?» Mark was at a loss.

«I am healthy, fit, and strong – 'gesund und stark' (unhealthy), an old phrase from his memory resurfaced.

„Do not worry, your overall health is excellent; the deformity is minor. If aviation means so much to you, consider applying to a technical school. There, you might still find opportunities aligned with your passion.“

Life wasn't over, but the news left Mark wandering down the street with a gloomy air. „If only Sacha were here now,“ he thought, longing for his friend's support. „Hey, falcon! Don't fold your wings prematurely!“ – he could almost hear Sacha's voice. He shook his head vigorously to dispel the haunting illusion.

How could this happen? He felt perfectly healthy. Then, his father's words came to mind:

„I've told you a hundred times, and I showed you how to lift properly! Remember how your back hurt when we were fixing the workshops in Maryina Roshcha District?“

Once again, his father was right. Mark had never paid much attention to the occasional backache.

„Perhaps, you could study somewhere in Moscow?“ Anna, his sister, suggested with sympathy and hope.

„What a sister I have! And you call that support…“ Mark chuckled at her innocence.

The initial shock subsided, and he began to reason calmly: „I love machines, right? Absolutely. Working with tools? Definitely! Am I well-versed in physics? I outshine everyone in my class. Did I attend Polytechnic for nothing?“

At the grand Moscow museum of knowledge, the exhibits captivated and enticed him, but the most alluring was the radio engineering exhibition. Whenever possible, Mark eagerly attended the lectures on the subject.

As for his spine, there might be a chance for treatment. I shouldn't let the first setback shatter my dreams. No, the Maretskys were not ones to give up so easily.

„Well, Anna, fixing an airplane is quite different from fixing your sewing machine, isn't it?“

„That's the spirit, good for you,“ Yakov praised, „there's no reason to give up when destiny beckons.“

With a newfound determination, Mark set his sights on the Leningrad Military-Technical School of the Red Army Air Force, in the former capital – the very birthplace of the revolution.

* * *

Filled with nervous anticipation, he was nevertheless certain that he would pass the exams; there was no doubt about it.

The Military-Technical School was housed in the historical edifices of the Second Cadet Corps, located on Krasny Kursant (Bolshaya Spasskaya) Street. Across from it stood the Infantry courses, occupying the premises once home to the topographic school. Farther away, the former barracks of the Nobility Regiment now served as the Military Theoretical School of the Red Air Force.

During those times, the nation demanded skilled military personnel. The rapid rearmament of the army during the initial five-year plan necessitated the mastery of new equipment. Standing once more on Troitskiy Bridge, Mark felt as though this was his calling.

„Am I trying to convince myself?“ he pondered, forcing a sad grin. However, he answered with confidence, „What need is there to convince oneself? It's already decided. Everything is right!“

The exams were aced, and he proudly became a „red cadet.“ The former Cadet Corps barracks in Leningrad became his home for the next few years.

* * *

Leningrad presented itself to Mark in various ways: its orderly layout and grandiose buildings exuded a haughty and serious grandeur, an allure that captivated the young man. The people of Leningrad also appeared friendly, albeit reserved (though he would later learn that the city was home to diverse personalities). Nonetheless, there was an underlying sense of coldness in the air, perhaps driven by the brisk Baltic wind. That was the impression Mark had of the city.

On the other hand, Moscow, with its bustling streets and joyful commotion, resonated much more with Maretsky's southern temperament. Still, during his leaves of absence, he immersed himself in museums and streets, absorbing the rich cultural atmosphere of the great city.

As the warmth of the season arrived, he could venture out to the beach, preferably outside the city, where the Gulf of Finland offered serene sandy shores.

At the urging of his friend Valeriy a fellow Leningradian, Mark was drawn to Sestroretsk, a once bourgeois and now proletarian resort. Valeriy convinced him that no other beach near Leningrad could rival the beauty of this place. Valeriy proved to be right, as they arrived at the station, greeted by a splendid station building with a covered gallery leading to the recreation area itself. Walking a little further, they felt as if they had stepped into a fairy tale. For Mark, who grew up near the sea, this was a sight of unparalleled beauty – a pine forest gently met the long coastal strip of sand, creating a magical scene!

„Oh wow…“ he couldn't help but marvel, „Sorry, Arabat Arrow, but you're not holding the advantage right now.“

„I told you! You have never seen a sea or sand like this.“ Valera teased.

After exploring the park and its various attractions, the cadets settled on the beach. There, an unexpected encounter awaited Mark – a young man accompanied by an elegant dark-haired beauty. Valeriy was quick to notice them, but Mark's gaze was fixated on the horizon.

„Look at her, she's like a goddess! Aphrodite!“ Valeriy exclaimed.

„Yes, yes, I remember. Your grandfather was a historian, so myths were your fairy tales. That's why you see goddesses everywhere!“ Mark replied, glancing around and noticing many pretty girls nearby.

„Not like that! Stop staring! Don't even think about it!“ Valeriy was suddenly afraid of the competition.

But it was too late. Both of them were mesmerized by the enchanting girl. Two pairs of eyes were now fixated on her. However, the „goddess“ paid no heed to their gazes and seemed indifferent to their admiration.

Undeterred, the young men decided to swim and dive, impressing other vacationers who applauded their antics. Yet, they made no impression on the unapproachable maiden. Mark decided to take a direct approach.

Valeriy chuckled, „It's a fortress that can only be stormed.“

„What fortress can resist my charms?“ Mark retorted playfully.

„This one. She's got an attitude,“ Valeriy warned.

„You're mistaken, comrade cadet! She doesn't? If a girl doesn't react to the intrusive advances of strangers, that's a big plus!“ Mark declared with determination as he headed straight towards the couple (with no clear plan in mind-improvisation was always his forte).

„Young man, are you from around here?“ he inquired, turning to the beauty's companion, who appeared to be a teenager of about fourteen years old.

No, we're from Leningrad. You want something?» He replied.

«It's just I made a bet with my friend, who owns this wonderful palace now: kids or old men?»

Seeing confusing, Mark explained, «I mean, is for pioneers or pensioners-veterans of the Revolution and Civil War?»

The young boy chuckled. The girl glanced at Mark. Up close, she appeared even more beautiful: her immense hazel eyes held a mocking gaze, yet her countenance retained an air of seriousness.

The conversation had begun, though Mark couldn't consider his impromptu particularly successful. However, it served its purpose.

«So, what's here now?» Mark asked, silently congratulating the girl, «She doesn't fall for stupid jokes.»

«It's a sanitarium, just like before. There was a resort here before the revolution,» the talkative boy replied. «Aren't you from Leningrad?»

«I'm from Moscow. We study here. And my friend is a fellow countryman of yours,» Mark gestured towards Valeriy. «We're from the military-technical school. This is Valeriy, and I'm Mark.»

«I'm Vladimir, and this is my sister Bertha,» the boy introduced them with a sly smile. «Mom only lets me go to the beach under her watchful eye.»

Mark's heart leaped with joy at the mention of the fact that she was his sister, but it was evident that the boy was too young to be her boyfriend. And what a name – Bertha! A unique name that struck Mark like lightning.

Curiosity drove Valeriy to ask, «And how does your husband look at these errands for mom?»

«It's none of your business,» the girl responded confidently.

«What husband! She doesn't have a husband,» the boy chimed in, earning two appreciative and one critical glance.

Time flew by, with the conversation mainly revolving around aviation technology among the young men. Bertha remained somewhat distant from the discussion. When the time came to part ways, she declined the offer to be walked home, signaling her lack of interest in continuing the acquaintance. They bid farewell politely.

«I see,» thought Mark, «she probably has more suitors than the trees in this forest. What are a couple of green cadets to her?»

«Well, what did I say?» Valeriy gloated. «This fortress is impenetrable!»

«You wait and see. In a year's time, you'll be at our wedding,» Mark responded determinedly.

«Who's getting married?» Valeriy inquired.

«You still don't get it? I will be marrying Bertha,» Mark answered with unusual seriousness.

«Of course, you are! How about proposing right now?» Valeriy teased. «I bet it wouldn't work out. She wouldn't even look at us. You only know her name. How are you going to find her?»

«You'll see. We just have to hurry,» Mark declared, resolute in his pursuit of the girl.

With determination, Mark followed the siblings. He still wanted to walk them home, but he needed to adjust the plan so as not to be too obvious.

Fortunately, by evening, the platform was teeming with vacationers, creating a crowd in which it was easy to get lost. The boys tried to stick close to the station building, but their attempts were almost foiled a couple of times when Vladimir, not particularly adept at this, inexplicably pulled Bertha towards the timetable. Mark attempted to blend into the background, but Valeriy's exaggerated gestures drew attention. Their predicament was saved by two little girls who began crying loudly and whimpering. Bertha got distracted, and the novice detectives managed to slip away in the crowd. They were the last to board the next carriage, keeping a discreet eye on Vladimir and Bertha until they reached the Finland station.

The task became more challenging as the brother and sister made their way to the streetcar stop, where the pursuers could be easily spotted.

«You have to sit in the third or, better, the fourth car,» insisted Valeriy. «That way, they won't notice us.»

Mark dismissed the suggestion, saying, «Oh, come on. We won't even see where they're getting off.»

They settled into the second car with difficulty, squeezing past other passengers and hearing unflattering remarks directed at them. Seated by the window near the door, they spent the entire journey.

Finally, Bertha and Vladimir got off at the crossroads of Liteyny Avenue (Volodarsky Avenue, of course – thanks, conductor!) with Nevsky Avenue (Avenue of the 25th of October). Seeing a crowd at the bus stop on the opposite side, they opted to walk instead. The couple passed Vosstaniya Square and turned onto Suvorovsky Avenue. After crossing one intersection, they entered a narrow street lined with mediocre stone buildings, sparsely populated. The boys had to watch from around the corner. At one point, Bertha glanced back, as if sensing their presence, and the boys had to quickly hide. Once they dared to reemerge, the street was empty – they had missed them! But just as they were about to mark the right entrance, one of the front doors slowly closed, almost rewarding them for their efforts. Left with no other option, they beat a hasty retreat, unsure if the beautiful girl might decide to look out of the window.