The circle of feminine power.

The energy of the

elements and the secrets of seduction

Larisa Renar

***

Jenre
teaching novel
 Annotation
Larisa Renar invites you into a world where the various elements and streams of
energy play no less a role than the exchange rates and where relationships don’t
simply develop, but are artfully built according to the laws of psychology, and
where legends become reality.
Female energy rituals are here presented for the first time in a fascinating way
and through an impressively effective system. Aphrodite returns her power to the
world of the 21st century and Larisa Renar's book The Circle of Feminine Power.
The Energy of the Elements and the Secrets of Seduction is the most convincing
proof of it.

***

Copyright Larisa Renar 2015 г.

izdat-knigu.ru edition
 Contents

Part 1. A new life and the art of enjoyment

Chapter 1. A Promising acquaintance

Chapter 2. I still lack something
Chapter 3. Freedom and energy
Chapter 4. The field of sexuality

Part 2. Levels of Feminine Influence and Levels of Relationships

Chapter 5. From interest to passion

Chapter 6. What kind of relationship do you want? (A strategy for marriage)
Chapter 7. On the stages of relationships
Chapter 8. Any role demands rehearsal
Chapter 9. We begin the investigation
Chapter 10. Night of Love. Preparation
Chapter 11. A time of doubts. A psychological move

Part 3. The acknowledgement of expectation

Chapter 12. The energy of his gifts

Chapter 13. And let him be your savior
Chapter 14. Belief in the man is the key to his heart
Chapter 15. Recognition and attention - This is what he wants
Chapter 16. Do you accept it or not?

Part 4. On the peak of the dream

Chapter 17. Are you ready to change?

Chapter 18. Surprises and more surprises
Chapter 19. A decisive step, or the last chance

Part 5. Such a different happy ending

Chapter 20. How it happens: science and action
Chapter 21. Is he your man? The importance of knowing your desires
Chapter 22. The beginning of the next life, but not the last

About the Author

This book is dedicated to my teachers: to Svetlana Dmitrievna Tokton, the
keeper of the ancient knowledge of the lost continent of Mu, who taught me the
majority of female rituals; to Alicia who showed me the North American tradition;
to Virginia who helped me to discover the secrets of the Sufi traditions, and to
many others who have devoted their lives to the discovery of female power and
to the search for invaluable knowledge.
This book is dedicated to all students and teachers of the Academy of the Private
Life, and I am grateful to the world for each meeting with them. How many
magical and fascinating hours we have spent together. We have studied and we
have grown together, and many of them are still with us.
This book is dedicated to the teachers of the St. Petersburg Academy of the
Private Life: Larisa Sokolova, Olga Mikhailova, Natalia Maksimova, and also to
the founders and teachers of the Moscow School of the Feminine Arts: Zhenya
and Oleg Frolov, Maryanna, Olga, etc. which make this world a better and kinder
place and fill it with love every day.
This book is dedicated to my dearest friends: Natalia Dimanis, Elena Mikhailova,
and Olga Bogolyubova who always believed in me and supported all my
adventures.
And certainly, it is dedicated to my family, to my amazing mother and to my
clever and creative father. But most importantly, to my husband who brings out
the best in me, helps with all my projects, and has taught me with wisdom and
love for almost twenty years.
I am very grateful to my publisher Maria Smirnova, who was ready to try new
and unusual projects; to the editor Elizaveta Zvereva, who gave charm and
completeness to my book; to Veronica Yurkus who created a refined film that has
enabled many people to see and repeat these rituals, and to Julia Dzhurinskaya,
our marketing director, who is able to bring all our creative ideas to life.
Each of us creates her own world, and I hope that my book will help you to
create a world in which you will be happy and loved!
Larisa Renar
 Part 1. A new life and the art of enjoyment

Chapter 1. A Promising acquaintance

2003
Some people collect recipes for different dishes, some gather recipes of beauty
secrets, others do the same with recipes for health. But my great-grandmother,
princess Varvara Vasilievna Renar, collected recipes of seduction. To be perfectly
honest, calling the diaries where she gathered invaluable knowledge of authority
over men recipes isn’t quite correct. After travelling across almost half the world,
the princess knew a lot, and everything that happened she wrote down in her
'secret' diary. Like precious pearls, recipes for seduction are scattered throughout
its pages. This diary preserves her memoirs of the love stories which occurred
during her travels, knowledge of the ancient laws of love, descriptions of different
types of men, and the feminine secrets given her by the Chosen who preserved
titbits of the powerful knowledge of feminine power in different corners of the
world over centuries.
In her 80s, my great-grandmother still looked like a woman of 35 and continued
to besot her numerous admirers. Family legend has it that she was not
exceptionally beautiful, but nevertheless had all the men of St. Petersburg at her
feet. Nobody could explain how she attracted them, but any man who spent just
a little time in her company ended up falling head-over-heels in love with her.
While still very young, she was married to the French prince Renar, and upon his
death spent some years travelling around the world. No one really knows quite
what happened during these travels. Only that on leaving she was modest, shy
and unremarkable, and when she returned she had become an impressive,
sexual, and lethal woman with fiery eyes.
I inherited her passion for men but her diary, containing its secret knowledge,
had seemingly disappeared forever during all those revolutions and wars.
Ah, how keenly I felt the lack of this knowledge throughout my numerous love
affairs. I continued to make all the same mistakes as everyone else. Why is it
that we are not taught to build relationships or how to make men fall in love with
us, and how to avoid suffering at the inevitable partings?
All of my relatives considered me to be an exact copy of my great-grandmother.
I had the same red hair, big, wide eyes and charming dimples, but, unlike her, I
had no idea at all what to do with men.
When I turned 28, the same age as my great-grandmother was when she began
her travels, I was by then absolutely disappointed with men and had given up
hope of finding my one and only and finally, to marry. My grandmother had died
by then and we in the process of selling her house.
Perhaps because as a child I had spent long hours in the attic reading old
magazines, I was asked to go through the things there on the off chance that
something valuable be found. What I discovered was my great-grandmother’s
diary, carefully wrapped in a thin silk shawl and tied with a ribbon darkened with
age. It was a treasure beyond compare. My grandmother had other cares and
never aspired to learn the secrets of her mother’s life and my father had no use
for them at all. Yet here at last I held in my hands a real treasure, the diary
containing secret knowledge and the recipes of seduction. I had no idea on that
sunny June day how completely my life would change because of my discovery…
1903
How suddenly everything can change... Until recently I lived a quiet life in our
huge apartment in Paris, but now with the death of my husband, prince Renar,
my life has completely changed. I was wholly distraught and couldn’t imagine
what to do next. My parents married me off without so much as a care for my
feelings in the matter, but simply deciding that a forty-eight year old French
prince was a favourable enough match for their twenty-four year old daughter,
despite the absence of any fortune to speak of. They met the prince during a stay
in Nice. And the strictness of the education I had received at the SMOLNY
INSTITUTE had taught me to be obedient so I dared not complain. Besides,
France had always been a dream of mine.
However, I still don’t completely understand how it was that I came to be
married. But, after five years of marriage I had almost got used to a settled,
quiet life so that when I so unexpectedly and suddenly was left on my own, I
became thoroughly confused. My aunt, princess Sofia Nikolaevna Illiriyskaya, on
learning of my husband’s death, came to lend her support. She was a legend.
She didn't seem anything special from the outside with a thin-lipped smile and
gentle eyes, but something existed within her that forced men to turn their heads
and stare whenever she passed, despite the fact that Sofia Nikolaevna was
already well over 50.
Having raised three sons, she deeply envied my mother who had been blessed
with a daughter. While I grew and studied at Smolny, we saw each other quite
rarely. But I had enthusiastic memories about her magnificent gowns, glittering
jewellery, a the smell of her perfume and, most importantly, about her sparkling
eyes which drove all of St. Petersburg mad. Seeing the state of shock that I was
in, the my aunt who had arrived from St. Petersburg for the funeral invited me to
stay with her for a while. To relax and to get over my sorrow, I decided to take
short trip to Athens and then onto Russia. I collected my clothes and jewellery
and set out into uncertainty.
2003
‘I'm heading into uncertainty’, I decided, on going to my first class at business
school.
I sought changes in my life and changes in myself also. For a long time I worked
as the representative of a Dutch company that printed huge vinyl posters for
outdoor advertising. The durable and bright paints we used, the fine quality of
our work and my hereditary charm, as a rule, contributed to successful sales. But
I wanted to start my own business and before I set myself up, I decided to take
some courses.
At first, we were to leave the city for five days to stay in a hotel in a distant
suburb where we were meant to be taught the basics of strategy, marketing,
finance and management. Among the group of 30 participants, there were only
10 women, which offered huge opportunities not only for studying the rules of
the business world, but also those of a very different nature. Certainly, such rules
were described in my great-grandmother's diary, but I hadn’t had time to read
through it, and I resolved to do so as soon as I finished the first course.
I went to the town of Repino in impatient expectation of getting to know the
people in my group. I had come to know every part of the narrow world of
outdoor advertising over the years, and both the professional and personal sides
of my life held no promise of anything new. But the thought of making twenty
new acquaintances with successful and interesting men from twenty-five to forty-
five years old, as well as all the newness of it all, absolutely thrilled my
imagination.
I spent half a day preparing for the first day of the course, not knowing what to
put on. One dress seemed too frivolous, another too strict, the third one too
romantic. Finally I settled on a knitted white suit, which looked both serious and
sexy. A short jacket with gold buttons and flared hip huggers while initially
severe in appearance cunningly left a thin strip of a naked flesh exposed at my
midsection that drew attention at once. Having twisted and turned a little bit
more in front of the mirror and armed with a huge suitcase of clothes for every
conceivable occasion, I left for the course. Apparently, most of the group had
already arrived by bus as when I entered the lobby of the BALTIETS hotel.
Everyone there was actively engaged in general discussion. As I made my way
toward a group of familiar faces, I stumbled over a suitcase left lying on the
floor. Even in mid-fall, I felt how strong the hands were that steadied me on my
feet and the amazed voice that went with them:
‘Careful there! It is impossible to be so inspired by knowledge!'
I looked at my saviour with gratitude. He was so usual as to be almost invisible,
with short whitish hair, a faultless light suit, and a slightly mocking cast to his
cold light green eyes.
'Thanks for saving me', I babbled embarrassedly feeling slightly ashamed. The
stranger examined me from top to toe, stopping just a second longer on my
exposed navel, and asked,
'Where are you from, charming creature?'
1903
'Where are you from, charming creature?' the dark-haired stranger asked me,
still holding me in his embrace. His brown eyes looked mockingly and keenly.
Immediately after boarding the steamship bound for Athens, I had already got
myself into a mess. In search of my cabin, being unused to gangways, I slipped
and would have fallen if the tall gentleman hadn’t grabbed hold of me. I never
liked men of such a type as his, but this one had captured my attention. I tried to
imagine what he saw: an awkward red-haired creature with huge turquoise eyes
and charming dimples on both cheeks...
The stranger was tall, well proportioned, and something mysterious flashed in his
brown eyes. The high cheekbones, the expansive forehead, sharply outlined lips
which promised passionate kisses and... Here I interrupted my runaway
imagination, cautiously disengaged myself from his embrace and, after
murmuring 'Thanks', dashed off to my cabin and locked the door. My heart was
pounding, not because I had just avoided falling, but because of an intense
feeling of the strongest attraction for a man I had seen for only a few brief
seconds. I nervously paced about my cabin, trying to pull myself together and to
decide what to do next. In spite of having been married, I really had no idea at
all as to how one behaved with men, and I thought about how much I still had to
learn.
2003
‘How much I still had to learn’, I whispered to myself on entering my room.
Confused by the stranger’s question, I answered mechanically: 'From St.
Petersburg'. But the brief interview had terminated without really beginning. I
was immediately surrounded by familiar and friendly people. Greeted and hugged
by everyone I knew, I somehow lost track of the stranger. Finally having got the
key to my room and seeing that my huge suitcase had been delivered, I took
deep breath. The first lecture was scheduled to begin in half an hour to be
followed by dinner. I fixed myself up and went down to the auditorium. The
teacher looked at me with surprise and asked whether I was in the right place.
‘Perhaps in Sweden they don’t come to lectures in such splendid dresses’, I
thought, but there was no time to change now. I felt like a complete outsider but
consoled myself with the fact that everyone always notices and remembers such
a person. Unfortunately, the one whose attention I wanted to attract didn't
appear. ‘He probably came to Baltiets to have a rest', I thought with
disappointment, and immersed myself with great interest in a lecture on
macroeconomics, almost forgetting about what had happened in the hotel lobby.
Still discussing the theme of the lecture, I went for dinner with my new friend
Marina.
'How was the lecture?' I heard a familiar voice say, and trembled with surprise.
'It was interesting!' I answered after I turned back and met the familiar pair of
green eyes.
'It is a shame that I missed it, I had to take care of some things!' the stranger
said regretfully. 'By the way, my name is Matvey. Matvey Winner!
'What a mad combination of a thoroughly Russian first name and the American
surname', I thought.
‘And you? You disappeared so quickly that we didn't have a chance to become
better acquainted.’
1903
'You disappeared so quickly that we didn't have a chance to become better
acquainted', I heard someone say. At dinner I sat at table with an old French
couple. Quickly having eaten and pleading extreme fatigue, they went away and
left me alone. Already finishing my dessert, I felt as if someone was watching
me. Lifting my eyes, I saw my dark-haired saviour from earlier in the day.
‘May I join you and perhaps keep you company?’ he asked politely.
‘Yes, certainly’ I answered.
‘I am glad to see that you are safe and sound!’
‘It is all thanks to your heroic efforts!’
‘Yes, they should give me a medal for rescuing charming creatures.’
‘Well, let me draw you one.’ I burst out laughing. ‘Only, whose name shall I write
on it?’
‘Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mark Golber. I am a military doctor
from St. Petersburg.’
‘Really? I was delighted. I am going to the very city to visit my aunt after my trip
to Greece. She also lives in St. Petersburg.’
‘We shall have a great many things to talk about I see.’ he said smiling
mysteriously. ‘But you still haven’t told me your name.’
‘Varvaria Vasilevna Renar.’ I answered a bit coldly.
‘My God, so official!’ he burst out laughing.
Once again I felt that I would drop to the ground overcome by the strongest
attraction. For all his appearance of restraint, it seemed a fire blazed within him
and that if I didn’t run away that, perhaps, I shall lose all self-control.
‘Please excuse me, I must go!’ I said bidding Mark farewell. ‘I trust we shall meet
again!’
‘Yes, I hope that I can find you!’ Smiling back at me, Mark said goodbye.
‘I wonder, I thought, what he is looking for in a woman?’
2003
‘But what do they all see in her?’ Marinka asked as we watched Katya walk off
with her newest admirer during one of the breaks between lectures. Over the
next few days we all had time to get acquainted and make friends. Perhaps the
male participants of the course were interested in science, but it was the girls
who busied themselves with analyzing the men and their chances of success
more than anything else. I remained unattached to anyone in particular, or, to be
more precise, there were many interesting candidates, and I flirted with them all
without favouring one over another. Everyone else simple looked warily at each
other. Relations with Matvey still remained purely platonic. And now, standing
under the March sun, we discussed how Katya attracted men and why we, so
beautiful, so clever and free, remained in the company of women.
Having agreed that to learn the secrets of seduction would be a much more
useful thing in life than to study business strategy, we went along all the same to
sit a lecture in SWOT analysis. For me, however, it was as if the world had
stopped and my ideas ran to the diary of my great-grandmother. I decided then
and there that perhaps, just maybe, those rules which worked 100 years ago
were, in fact, eternal and that I needed to try and apply the secret knowledge of
my great-grandmother to modern life. I imagined that I should discover a lot of
interesting things for myself.
1903
I should discover a lot of interesting things for myself. The sound of the waves
told an eternal fairy tale of adventure, and the breeze played a staccato of
impatience on the mast. The very same impatience was inside me.
Though we chatted agreeably, Mark remained invariable polite and cautious.
Mark's touches brought to mind a certain ritual. A ritual that was unknown to me.
Every morning after breakfast we went up on deck and he gently wrapped my
shoulders in a plaid. As if by accident, he pressed a warm hand on the back of
my bare neck. My hair was swept upward as fashion dictated and I felt how he
admired the site of my tender skin. I grew faint and waited for him to continue,
but I only heard the same old phrase:
‘Good morning. You are as fresh as the sea air, and I sink into the depths of your
mysterious turquoise eyes’. Then he brought coffee and we began conversing
about medicine and politics, Russia and France.
Having heard this phrase for the third time, I was quietly enraged and decided
that he had found it in some self-instruction manual on seduction and simply
learnt it to use on such little fools as me. But when on the fourth day it did not
appear, I began somehow to miss these words. On the fifth day I already thirsted
to hear them and feel heat of his touch on my neck. Finally, I decided that
certain rituals were not so bad after all. But nothing more followed and Mark still
did not try to seduce me. Perhaps I was not to his taste, or perhaps he was
waiting for just the right moment. Then again, perhaps there was something I
was missing.
2003
Something spectacularly unknown occurred in my life too. I understood that I
had fallen in love. The general atmosphere of flirtation at business school did not
pass me by either. And although the men of my dream never were blondes, the
gentle attentions of Matvey, even in trifles, touched my heart. I wondered
anxiously if he took such care only of me or of all women.
But here the course ended as well as coffee in the mornings and his constant
‘Good morning, dear’. That, certainly, was not so florid and refined as at my
great-grandmother, but was repeated invariable throughout the five days we
studied.
I only understood that I had fallen in love on the last day. I managed to catch a
cold and, upon waking that morning, felt that I couldn’t go to the lecture, nor
even leave my bed for that matter. Marinka knocked at the door and asked
whether I would go a breakfast, and, having heard my weak voice, promised to
bring something up to me. And what a surprise it was when instead of Marina,
Matvey came in bearing tea, honey, aspirin and oranges. Whether his care was a
display of politeness or a display of interest, I couldn’t decide yet, but the fact
that he did not make any attempts even to kiss me, began to disturb me.
1903
The things which happened had aroused my anxiety. I already started to doubt
my own attractiveness. The journey came to an end with nothing having
occurred between us. I wondered how long Mark was going to communicate with
me politely when I am exhausted with desire.
On one of the evenings, a concert took place in the restaurant. I sat next to Mark
and listened to the arias and felt that I was simply dying of passion. The
inclination was so strong, that I had a real orgasm just being near him. And he,
for his part, seemed imperturbable and quiet. It is good that it was dark in the
hall and nobody could see what was happening to me. I tried to take myself in
hand and hoped that the dense dress and corset would hide my secrets. I never
knew that such a thing was possible. Mark has gallantly offered me his hand,
and, walking near to him, I noticed that he felt everything and understood.
Certainly there are the rules of decorum, but it sometimes seems to me that they
were created by men in order not to have to pay attention to a woman that
doesn’t attract them in all politeness. Because if a woman really is pleasing to a
man he will forget all rules of decency immediately. I was enraged, but managed
not to show it in the slightest. Only having returned to the cabin, did I give vent
to my indignation: ‘How dare he reject me, obviously seeing and feeling what
had overcome me?!’
2003
‘How dare he reject me, obviously seeing and feeling what had overcome me?!’
As a result of my indignation my cold disappeared. How could he slowly kindle a
passion for five days and then, at the last minute, give a friendly peck on the
cheek and say goodbye until the following course?
Still boiling, I began to throw my clothes into my suitcase. Marinka, who came for
me and saw the look on my face, asked with anxiety, what had happened?
‘Did something happen with Matvey? When he went to treat you, I thought that
the treatment would take longer! But he returned too quickly and left for some
meeting immediately.’
‘That's just what I don’t understand, what game he plays. Whether he is very
skilled in controlling himself, or if all this care is a display of simple politeness,
and nothing more.
‘Don’t blow your top!’ the reconciliatory Marina said. ‘It is time for us to go! My
suitcase is already downstairs. Should we call somebody to help you with that?
She asked, pointing at my bag.
‘No, I’ll do it myself! You know, this rage has given me strength!’ In a frenzy, I
grabbed the suitcase and carried it to the lift. However, my burst of energy soon
dissipated and when I met Gleb from our group in the lift, I was very grateful to
him for helping to load our suitcases into my red Volvo.
‘Marinka, I suggest we celebrate the end of the first course!’ I then told her the
idea which came to me while I rushed, both frightening and pleasing a string of
police officers along our rout to whom I was obliged to give 100 roubles at
intervals of about every 500 meters, or so.
‘Where?’ asked Marinka with curiosity?
‘At my place! I think I have a bottle of expensive Frapen cognac. My chief re-
gifted it to me as bonus for good work. Purely man's logic: ‘Take, my God, that
which we don’t need ourselves’.’
When we arrived at my apartment on the quay, I opened the cognac and cut a
lemon, strewing it with cheese and ground coffee. Marinka took a glass and
toasted:
‘To new knowledge! And don’t fret over Matvey! I always console myself with the
words: ‘Let sob those who didn’t get us, and let die those who neglected us’.’
‘Thanks for the consolation!’ I smiled, sipping the warming cognac.
And then Marinka’s gaze fell upon an ancient circular band of fine metal laying on
the bookshelf.
‘What is it?’ she asked, taking it in her hands and examining it closely.
1903
‘What is it?’ I asked myself, at last having pulled out something which dug into
my side. I stood in the middle of the temple of Aphrodite in the Acropolis and
held in my hands a silver diadem darkened with age. But this moment was
preceded with strange events.

Coldly enough, I left Mark in Athens and agreed to meet him two months hence
in St. Petersburg; I arrived at the hotel and having dropped my things, headed
straight for the Acropolis. It was already about three o'clock in the afternoon, and
I had only two hours to see everything, when suddenly, having entered the half-
destroyed temple of Aphrodite, I felt that it was important for me to come here
at night. Understanding that I wouldn’t be allowed to remain here until morning,
I hid myself in a stall in the ladies room at five o'clock they were closing.
Something inside me gave me no choice!
Everything gradually emptied out and the few voices I could hear faded away. I
waited a bit more and, realizing that the Acropolis was now empty, I ran into the
temple of Aphrodite. I stood in the centre of the temple and lifted my hands to
the sky and felt how streams of energy from space entered my body through my
palms and streams of energy from the earth entered my body through my feet. I
felt, in fact, that I passed into another dimension. I saw how the laughing
Aphrodite took a diadem from the hands of Hephaestus gazing at her in
adoration. Then I saw how Aphrodite gave the circlet to the high priestess. I saw
a beautiful ritual where four priestesses gathered in a circle of feminine power
and, connecting hands, created a funnel of feminine energy directed into space. I
saw how the diadem was given to the strongest of the four priestesses, who had
managed to collect all nine stones, to pass all four steps of initiation and, having
experienced all the basic types of masculine energy, learned to direct it.
Everything went dark and lost consciousness. I didn’t come to until morning
when it all seemed to have been a freak of my imagination or a strange dream. It
was cold lying on the sand, and something cut into my side. I tried to remove
whatever it was with my hands. It seemed that I was slowly going mad and I
began to dig while abusing myself for a naive belief in miracles. Certainly the
sight was worthy of description by some writer: a magnificently dressed woman
digging frenetically in the ground. You can imagine my horror and amazement
when I turned up a darkened and twisted diadem. I did reflect on where it had
come from but simply accepted it as an omen of the changes in my life the future
would bring.
As it was already dawn, I returned to my refuge and waited for the opening of
the Acropolis. When the first tourists appeared I lost myself in the crowds. The
diadem was in my handbag and nobody paid any attention to me. Still shivering
from the cold and the things I had experienced, a terrible weariness overcame
me. I don’t even remember how I reached my hotel. After a quick breakfast, I
almost crawled to my room and immediately fell to dreaming.
But the dream was a continuation of my vision of the night before. I dreamed
that Aphrodite placed the diadem, which now contained glittering jewels, on my
head. And I heard her say:
‘The time has come to return the knowledge of feminine energy to the world. The
time has come return to it the authority of women. You are the one who will
show the way and will find the right path. Many discoveries await you with lots of
new acquaintances, some disappointments and many happy moments along the
way. The time to gather the stones has come.’
I opened my eyes and lay in a stupor for a few minutes. I tried to assimilate and
accept everything that I had seen and heard. Somehow I had to gather all nine
stones to find power and authority over the world, and, most improbably, over
men. I held the ancient diadem and tried to understand what was happening.
I even tried to place it in my head but, obviously, even if its magic was real, I
hadn’t yet begun to work. With embarrassment I remembered my silly and vain
attempts to drive Mark mad with desire. Even though I am a good person, young
and free, I still lack something.

To contents

***
Chapter 2. I still lack something

2003
‘Even though I am a good person, young and free, I still lack something, young
and free, I still lack something. , young and free, I still lack something,’ I came
to the unfavourable conclusion. The month between courses had flown by
imperceptibly, and the thought of another meeting with Matvey began to make
me very excited. I had already decided to take definite action. However, I still
didn’t know just what they could be. What do I want: to seduce Matvey or to stir
his feelings, to drive hem mad or to astonish him with my cleverness?
Having decided that I would discover it as I went along, I began to pack for the
course. Most of my jeans were covered in rhinestones of all colours of the
rainbow, my disobedient curls stuck out in different directions, and the neckline
on my dresses was as deep as possible, and my navel exposed. To begin with
change of image, I decided to use the tried and true method of a makeover.
As I packed, I selected only the most refined and demure things, which was no
easy to feat. But I managed to find a severe black suit in the depths of the
wardrobe. Having gathered and pinned up my hair, I looked at myself in the
mirror. All I needed was a pair of glasses with no-nonsense frames and I would
look like a teacher. However, the Italian suit remained sexy no matter what,
emphasizing my bottom, showing off my slim waist. Still, it was a change from
my usual attire.
Finally, on Friday evening, the next course began with everyone embracing and
pleased to see each other again. I got loads of compliments on my new suit and
hair style. And Matvey approached unexpectedly and embraced me from behind.
‘You’ve changed! ’ he whispered in my ear. But, to be honest, from his tone of
voice, I couldn’t tell whether he liked these changes or not. This though was still
bothering me and during a lecture on marketing I suddenly realized, that, while
talking about sales figures, our Swedish professor said, as if reading my mind.
‘Ask the buyer what he dreams about, and show him that your goods are what he
has been dreaming of’, was the refrain of his lecture. I thought that it’s just the
same with men: before changing your look or to doing anything, it’a necessary to
know what he wants.
1903
‘And what did he want? ’ was the first question I asked my aunt, having hardly
crossed the threshold of her home in St. Petersburg. The carefree flirtation of
the voyage could not let me rest.
‘Who? ’ My aunt didn’t understand. ‘Maybe, you will change out of your travel
things, have a bath, and then we are set in front of the fireplace, you will tell me
everything. Yes, to allow a girl to travel alone is dangerous,’has sighed my aunt.
‘That’s the problem! ’ I burst out crying, ‘It’s as safe as houses. Men just don’t
see me! They glance past me and take n notice. I’m beautiful! Why? And Mark,’ I
again burst out crying, ‘made me suffer for five whole days!’
‘Did he seduce you? My aunt asked n horror.
‘No, and that’s just it!’ I shook my head, continuing to sob. ‘He didn’t even try. I
have already ceased to sleep at the nights, thinking of him caressing me, and he
was invariably kind and gentle. Something is wrong with me!’ I was filled again
with tears.
‘My God, you are 28 years old, and you have already been married, and yet you
are still so naïve!’ my aunt sympathized.
‘Oh auntie, what causes men to follow you with their eyes? And why do the men
not even look at me?’
‘My dear girl, the skill of carrying away a man is a special gift, but it can be
learned. I shall try to explain, if you are ready to trust me and to change.’
‘Of course I am ready!’ My tears had dried already and I gave her all my
attention.
‘I have wanted to share this knowledge with someone for a long time.’
‘Aunt, you’re not serious?’ was all I could say. ‘I once heard that there was secret
knowledge of how to attract and keep any man. I just want to get some of this
knowledge.’
‘Nevertheless, it would still be a good idea to change your clothes and have
supper first,’ my aunt countered.
2003
‘It would be a good idea to change your clothes and have supper,’ I thought
entering the room with almost no energy left. Unused to studying from 8 in the
morning till 8 at night, it was hard to prepare another case for morning after
dinner. I was already bored with my serious image and, having put my favorite
jeans, went down to dinner. People were excited. After supper everyone would
gather at the disco and present skits on the theme ‘Who works where and what
talents do they have.’ Oh, I thought, an opportunity to show myself off in all my
glory. And though Matvey and I were placed in different groups, I was still full of
enthusiasm.
Our group decided to do a number from ‘Moulin Rouge’, playing the manufacturer
of a chewing gum that sticks people together. I arrived onstage using my sexiest
wiggle and after a short dance fell, ostensibly drawn by the gum on the hands of
the company representative, Alexander. To cheerful laughter and a burst of
applause, Alexander carried away me off the stage.
After when I stood at the bar having a glass of water, Matvey approached and
said:
‘You were priceless!’
‘Thanks!’ I said smiling.
‘What are you drinking?’ Matvey asked.
‘Water with lemon’ I answered.
‘If you want, I shall order you a cocktail!’ he offered.
‘No thanks! I try to not drink!’ I refused.
‘Why?’ Matvey asked puzzled.
‘Because it can be dangerous!’ I answered ambiguously.
‘For me or for you?’ asked Matvey joining the game.
‘For you!’ I answered, looking at him with a mysterious glance.
‘Intriguing! I like to take risks!’ Matvey was already becoming agitated. ‘Let’s see
how dangerous it is up in my room.’
At this moment Alexander approached, and having already carried me in his
arms, decided to continue our conversation and invited me to a slow dance. I
didn’t like to offend him by refusing yet, at the same time. I was already starting
to become afraid of the game with Matvey. We should study the whole year
together and if I spend the night with him, who knows how things would turn
out. Apologizing, I went off to dance with Alexander.
Maybe it was a mistake. Matvey did not make any attempts to seduce me. The
course came to an end with only some lovely chats and a bit of flirtation. It is
pleasant to tease a man by saying that there are urgent matters to attend to and
the unplanned arrival of relatives but if the man does not make any attempts to
seduce you, you start to doubt of yourself. When we parted for the summer I
decided that it was a good opportunity to study somewhere and find out what I
lacked.
1903
‘What do I lack?’ I asked when, at last having unpacked and had supper, we went
up to my aunt’s boudoir to drink tea.
My aunt’s home in Konnogvardeysky Boulevard was built in a refined Venetian
style with huge windows and a cosy bay window on the second floor and seemed
to transport sunny Italy to the banks of the Neva.
We settled into a pair of soft armchairs and, having poured fragrant strawberry
tes, continued our conversation.
‘What do you lack…’ my aunt repeated, lost in thought. ‘Before we start, it is
important for you to understand why one woman attract men, and others,
despite her beauty, erudition, and youth goes unnoticed.’
‘Here,’ jumping from her armchair, my aunt took a marble sphere in hands.
‘Imagine that this is Sun,’ Sofia Nikolaevna addressed me, holding the sphere
aloft. ‘What keeps the planets circling around of the Sun?’
‘Aunt, I didn’t ask for a lesson in physics!’ I answered indignantly.
‘And do you not think that laws of physics are the universal laws of the Universe?
My aunt asked.
‘I’m sure I don’t remember, but it seems to me…’ trying to recall my grammar
school lessons, I rummaged in my memory and, at last exhaled: ‘Gravity!’
‘Clever girl! And what creates gravity?’ she continued her interrogation.
Nothing came to mind, as I was unprepared for such questions. ‘Energy, my girl.
Energy corrects the world, draws it and keeps it. The sun is a ball of fire, and
owing to that it draws planets. Woman too is a ball of fire, and owing to that she
draws men like a magnet, draws opportunities, the money, useful acquaintances,
and most importantly, can keep it all.’
‘Why? Doesn’t the man have energy?’ I still did not understand.
‘Yes! If they are monks or other experts on power. But regular men receive
energy from women. A men is not able to take energy from space; it all directed
outwards, towards action. Only woman is able to accumulate energy owing to her
uterus, receiving it from water, air, fire and earth, that is, from nature. Energy
attracts men. And he searches for this energy in woman, without it he cannot
embody his dreams, realize his plans, earn money and take authority.’
‘As always, men are conveniently set up.’ I was sincerely indignant.
‘On one hand you are right,’ my aunt agreed ‘but at the same time with
understanding comes responsibility. Only she and her energy create everything
that surrounds a woman. Also there is nobody to blame, especially her husband
or other men if she lives not in a magnificent private residence but a small flat,
that her husband is not a millionaire, but receives a tiny salary. It means that the
woman has not done her duty by the man, and that he has not been able to do
hid duty to the woman.’ My aunt paused.
‘So if my husband reaches a certain position, it means that I had the energy?’ I
clarified.
‘Yes, but if you don’t know how to replenish the energy, you lose it. Time,
children, and work deprive women of energy, and by the age of thirty-five many
are already devastated.
And then the man sets out in search of new sources, finding someone younger.’
‘All the same, it’s unfair!’ I said in defence of all the wives that had been left.
‘Unfair, but natural. Receiving energy through sex, men unconsciously want the
woman in whom he feels a certain fullness. If you are deprived of energy it is
unimportant that you are young, rich or good. You are empty. Consequently no
man will want you. They simply do not see or feel the woman in you.’
2003
‘They simply don’t see and don’t feel the woman in me,’ I though, having come
to a unflattering conclusion. I sat with my girlfriend from university, Aniska, at
her dacha and tried to digest the information which I had extracted from my
great-grandmother’s diary. My girlfriends and I served as a fine illustration of the
student's song about red-haired woman:
‘A red haired woman,
is more playful than a kitten.
And wherever you touch her,
everywhere she is fire.’
It was as if the refrain of the song was about me, and the first couplet about my
girlfriend, Manechka.
She is a cosy and appetizing woman, a children's psychologist, once a typical
blonde. In time, her hair darkened, but her state remains the same.
‘And blondes
All are like icicles,
There are no words:
You start to caress her,
And she begins
To follow bugs on the wall.’

The second couplet is as if written about Kisa, my second girlfriend. She is an

free and temperamental brunette with blue eyes and works as a designer.
‘And brunettes
All are coquettes.
They are good, while they are young,
And when they turn forty,
It is finished,
And even devil doesn’t need them.’

But our forties were still a long way off, so while Kisa did not worry too much
whether someone needed her or not. She slept with practically all of her
customers and friends. Kisa was convinced that sex is the best thing in her life
and that it is very good for the health. And about Aniska, our very dark-brown
haired friend, the song for some reason didn’t say anything at all. Perhaps there
was a couplet, but we did not know it. What we did know was that Aniska was
attractive.
Tall and stately, at a height of 174 cm, with a size four bust and long, fluffy hair,
she instantly attracted attention. Aniska, unlike us, had had short periods of
marriage and cohabitations. But she didn’t like being married very much, or,
maybe, she didn’t liked to be a wife. She prefers her career much more. Her
husbands, not able to compete with her career, somehow always seemed to
disappear.
So here we sat on the veranda of the dacha with Aniska and, sipping wine,
discussed such exciting topics.
‘My God, it sounds like a sentence of death. Everything is so hopeless. Or is there
some chance?’ Aniska asked with horror when I told her that I had read through
the diary.
‘But if you think about it, it explains why sometimes plain women find greater
success than supermodels. Men probably feel that one woman has this energy
and another doesn’t. Now I understand why Gala, the wife of Salvador Dali, had
such an astounding success with men, despite her mannish appearance and, to
put it mildly, her absolutely flawed facial features. We, probably, are like gasoline
for a car, without it the car can’t make a move. So a man can’t achieve anything
without a woman. It is interesting, is this energy given from birth or it can be
developed somehow?
 1903
‘It is interesting, is this energy given from birth or it can be developed
somehow?’ I asked my aunt.
‘Certainly, it is possible. Such knowledge is transmitted by word of mouth, from
mother to daughter. For centuries women sought and shared secret techniques
on how to guard and strengthen feminine energy. And those who possessed this
knowledge and was able to use her energy had enormous power. Men were ready
to give their lives for one night with such women. In fact energy is transferred
only at moments of deep intimacy. Even one night with such a woman can
change a man’s life forever. That’s why virginity is so precious, especially in
noble families. People have always understood that if the girl is pure, all her
energy will contribute to the prosperity of her kin, instead of be given to
someone unknown. That’s why in feudal Europe it was the master’s right to sleep
with any woman for the first time, thus robbing any energy his vassal might
received. The more men a woman sleeps with, the less energy she has and the
more effectively she is ruined. Too many contacts with men deprive a woman of
her strength and attractiveness. Prostitutes give nothing to men, they don’t make
him stronger. It is only a mechanical act, and nothing more,’ my aunt continued
to explain. ‘To return energy to yourself, you should be released from the affair
you had. Any connection remains for seven years.
‘Even a connection with a man who is no longer alive?’ I asked.
‘Even if he has gone from this world anymore, even if he is thousand of
kilometres away. Even if you spent only one night together, he continues to drain
your energy and this prevents you from attracting the man for which you search,’
she explained. ‘I shall show you the technique of freeing yourself from such
connections so you can end your ties with your husband’.
And so my aunt began to enlighten me.
‘By connecting your thumb, which symbolizes feminine sexuality, and your index
finger, which symbolizes authority, you will have created a circle of feminine
power. Place the circle of feminine power on your belly, there, above your womb.
The womb is a source of feminine power, and in it we accumulate energy and
store the invisible threads of power that connect us with all men with which we
have had affairs. We put this ring of feminine power at 12 o'clock, as the clock-
face looks downwards, and turn our head to the left, our past, and as you breath
in, imagine the man with whom we once spent the night, then we turn to the
present, face forward, and with a counter-clockwise spiralling movement towards
the centre we begin to gather a thread of power. We do three circles and, turning
to the right, for our future, we expel this connection by exhaling. It is better to
free yourself of such ties on the 19th day of the moon but if you feel that you are
not ready to wait so long, do it whenever you feel it necessary.’
2003
‘Remember everyone with whom I have slept for last seven years?’ Kisa was
obviously puzzled. ‘You demand the impossible from me. And at two o'clock in
the morning! In what books did you read it?’ she demanded sternly over the
telephone.
When Aniska and I had finally finished recalling all of our affairs and severed all
ties, it was already late and we had finished the last of the wine.
‘Listen, Aniska said, ‘maybe I am too suggestible, but it seems to me that I no
longer feel like a deflated balloon and begin to return to life. I need to call to Kisa
and tell her everything.’
And so we dialled Kisa’s number and shared our discovery with her. Having
listened to our instructions on what to do and why, and having wished us a good
night, Kisa quickly hung up. Aniska and I exchanged understanding glances and
feeling that we had fulfilled our duty, went to sleep.
I had already almost forgotten about our act of good will when, a week later, the
phone rang. It was Kisa calling. I had just decided to try on my great-
grandmothers diadem and, having forgotten to remove it, began to talk with
Kisa.
‘I needed almost three days to remember everyone by name with whom I had
slept for last seven years,’ Kisa informed me. ‘Just imagine, as soon as I
removed someone he called me immediately, as if he felt that he had lost
something. But the most amazing thing happened yesterday, when I went with
Aniska to have dinner at Ivanhoe. I met Albert.
‘A dog,’ I remembered Kisa’s affair with the inveterate womaniser from three
years ago and her suffering.
‘Yes, and he even stared at me with such interest and desire that I regretted that
I had severed our connection.
‘He stared because you cut him out. But, basically, you could switch him,’ I
suddenly said unexpectedly.
‘To switch?’ Kisa did not understand.
I did not understand myself and, as if under hypnosis, started talking:
‘If you want financial support from a man don’t separate fingers on the left side,
but change the middle finger for your pinkie; if you want marriage, change it for
you ring finger; if you would like a man to desire you as if for the first time and
see you anew, you change for the middle finger. The index finger symbolizes
authority and enables you to use a man’s connections and his position.
‘It looks,’ Kisa began to reflect, ‘that I don’t give them energy any more, and to
be frank I couldn’t care less.
‘Yes, like a lady with a heap of small dogs on a leash,’ I continued. ‘Such
wonderfully power leashes’. And we laughed loudly.
‘Yes, and can you imagine, the old dog treated Aniska and me to dinner. An
absolute feat for him. You know, I am beginning to trust in your techniques and
to change my opinion of men. I only had to devote three days to sever all the old
ties and energy once again began to seethe in me, my eyes began to shine and
my hope for a prince returned,’ Kisa finished optimistically.
I was sincerely pleased for her because recently all her romances ended very
quickly and the a belief in the animal nature of all men threatened to destroy her
life. It is good that I hadn’t had so many romances and that one evening was
enough for me to clear all past connections. Still thinking about Kisa and about
myself, I started to pace back and forth across the living room floor. When I
glanced at myself in a mirror as I passed, I stopped dead in my tracks. I was still
wearing the diadem. I cautiously removed it, began to examine it and wondered
what stones did it need in order to regain its former power?

To contents

***
Chapter 3. Freedom and energy

1903
‘What stones did it need in order to regain its former power?’ I dumbfounded my
aunt with my question which almost knocked her down on the way to the dining
room. After our conversation on feminine power in the bedroom, I wished my
aunt a good night and went off to bed. But in the middle of the night I suddenly
sat up, as if I had been stung. How could I forget to tell my aunt about the
diadem and everything that had occurred to me in the temple of Aphrodite? With
impatience I waited for morning to ask her the questions that began tormenting
me. And when I heard Sofia Nikolaevna's voice the next morning giving orders
about breakfast, I slipped on a peignoir and, holding the silver ringlet in my
hands, rushed down to find her.
My aunt smiled mysteriously and took the darkened and slightly crushed but still
graceful diadem from my hands. Thin curved lines, being intertwined, created an
unusual pattern as if it were made of rose stems, but instead of flowers there
were apertures for jewels, four which were large in diameter, and between them
four smaller. But the most amazing part was that from the each of the larger
apertures extended thin arches in the form of twigs, meeting in the centre and
forming a small aperture for a ninth stone. The diadem rather resembled a
unusual crown. My aunt looked with admiration at the fine creation.
‘I completely forgot to tell you what happened in Greece,’ and I had nearly begin
a full account of my experience when my aunt said calmly:
‘I think I know what is it!’
With amazement I looked at Sofia Nikolaevna.
‘So what is it?’ was all I could say.
‘It is a diadem of feminine power. Legend has it that Hephaestus shaped it for his
wife Aphrodite as a gift of love and in worship of her feminine charms. Four large,
precious stones symbolize the four basic elements, the four parts of the world,
the four manifestations of feminine energy; while the four small stones
correspond to the four manifestations masculine energy, to the four basic types
of men; and the ninth stone above is the basic symbol of feminine energy. The
woman who can collect all the stones will find power over men and over herself,
will find power over the world’.
‘And did anyone succeeded?’ was all I could utter.
‘Aphrodite was the first,’ the princess smiled. ‘But for her it was easy to turn any
man’s head. Then this diadem was long stored in the temple of Aphrodite where
priestesses studied the secrets of feminine power. In the temple there were four
main priestesses who represented the four manifestations of feminine energy.
Gathering in the circle of feminine power and connecting their four energies
together, they possessed enormous authority. Other priestesses, having
completed their training should, as a test, drive mad a man of a certain clan and
receive from him a small semiprecious stone as a gift. When a priestess managed
to collect four small stones, after knowing men of four clans, she passed to the
next step and should receive four precious stones as gift from one man. The third
step was passed when she received the ninth stone as a gift from a very powerful
person. When all nine stones were collected the diadem possesses enormous
power. But the one who could collect all nine stones herself possessed the
greatest power’.
‘By ‘knowing’ you mean,’ I decided to specify. ‘to spend a night with everyone?’
My aunt smiled indulgently and answered with a sad smile:
‘Unfortunately, when spending the night with a woman a man can’t even recall
her name in the morning. The art isn’t in spending the night with a man, the art
is to understand his psychology and to study his secret desires without spending
night with him, so that he will shower you with jewellery only for the opportunity
to be next to you’.
2003
‘Do you want a man to shower you with jewellery only for the opportunity to be
next to you?’ I dumbfounded Marinka with my question when I called her at the
beginning of summer.
‘And who doesn’t want to be desirable?’ Marinka asked, surprised.
‘Then you need to go again to study!’ I declared. ‘Theory is theory, but when you
are given knowledge at energetic and verbal levels it is absolutely different. A
skill can be learned only from a master. Marishka, you are my last hope! Do you
know if there are such schools for women in Moscow?’ I appealed to Marinka,
before methodically ringing round to all my girlfriends. Aniska couldn’t help with
anything, but asked me to take her along if I found something. Kisa was so far
from the idea of study, preferring the school of life instead of theoretical
research. And I dialled Marinka’s phone, guessing that everything could be found
in Moscow. Marinka did not disappoint.
‘Yeah! One of my friends told me that when her husband went on the prowl when
he turned fifty, she was trained at some school. And he forgot all about his young
lovers and now can’t feast his eyes on her enough and calls her twenty times a
day.’
‘Perfect! Can you find the phone number?’
‘All right,’ Marinka promised. ‘We shall go together, maybe we will indeed learn
something useful.’ Then, having reflected, she added, ‘But before we use our
mad energy for peaceful purposes, it might be good to understand where to get
it.’
1903
‘A woman can begin conserving energy, having cleared all connections,’ Sofia
Nikolaevna told me as we sat in the interior courtyard of her residence and gazed
at the moon. ‘Today is the 19th day of the moon, and you can clear that
connection which ties you to your husband.’
‘But you did not teach me yet how to save energy!’ I objected, having finished
severing the connection.
‘Well then, let’s try,’ my aunt hummed and again became serious. ‘But once
again we need to find whether there is any inside you. You can see by looking
deep within whether you have such energy and how much of it.’
Close your eyes, take a deep breath and, as you exhale, focus your attention on
your womb. As the darkness gradually dissipates you will see the basis of the
feminine nature. Look at what trees grow there, what blossom flowers there,
smell the smells, hear the sounds, the singing of birds and, if something is
unpleasant, if something spoils the beauty and harmony of this place - remove it.
Remove everything unnecessary, all dirt, all matter, and all traces. Having put
things in order, feel easy and free, and as you rise upwards, to the light white
clouds, and from the height of a bird in flight, look at your world, admire it.
Maybe, you see its most hidden nooks, or see something new, maybe you want
to change something, to add something. Having taken pleasure in the beauty and
harmony of the source of femininity, return to reality and open your eyes.
2003
‘Well, what did you see?’ asked Aruna when I opened my eyes. Certainly, her
words differed from those of Sofia Nikolaevna's, but the essence was almost the
same. I needed to see the source of femininity.
Aruna is the master of feminine rituals, a massive Buryat with long black hair
who, even when seated, towers over me and inspires awe and trembling. In her
deep burgundy attire with strange signs on the breast she resembled more a
shaman than a refined princess, but the depth of her knowledge and enormous
internal force literally compelled one to heed every her word. I had come to
Moscow, and in breaks between business courses Marinka and I decided to join
ancient knowledge and modern interpretation.
‘It was very beautiful - a field of daisies! However, there were some burnt
stumps, but I removed them.
‘Clever girl, but did you see any water?’
‘No, in fact you didn’t say anything about water,’ I was surprised.
‘Yes, I specifically don’t speak about water. Water symbolizes feminine energy. If
a woman has this energy then she sees water. For some it is a small stream, for
others it’s a sea. Not for nothing does a man say about a woman filled by
energy: ‘I thirst for her’. But if she is emaciated, he can’t find the source.
Therefore it is necessary to search.
Close your eyes, take a deep breath and as you exhale return to the source of
femininity. Look around, you came here to search for the source, perhaps you
will see it in a thicket of grass, maybe it as an ancient woman, you will call for
rain, or perhaps you must dig and find an underground source. The main thing is
to find it.’
I listened the words of Aruna, without really hearing them, and saw a fine
waterfall, bathed myself in its purity and enjoyed caress of the water on my skin.
It seemed to me, that water filled every cell of my body, dissolving and carrying
away all failures, insults, and fears. It seemed to me that I myself was dissolving
and became droplets of water, that a stream headed towards the sea picked me
up and carried me with it. And here I was already pitching on the waves and felt
how a current, turning into a whirlpool, carried me down to the bottom.
1903
‘You sink to the bottom and see a fine shell. You swim up to this shell and open
it,’ my aunt’s voice conducted behind me. When after the first meditation she
discovered that I didn’t see any water, she asked me to close my eyes once
again and to visualise the sea. First I saw something, and only after heard her
words. Before she said anything about the shell, I had already swum up to it and
opened it, and then I heard her words:
‘Inside of it you find the fine, shimmering pearl of your feminine attractiveness.
You take this pearl and put it in your womb and feel how it fills you with the
shimmer, making you attractive. And, so filled, you rush to the surface, toward
the sun and, like the ancient goddess of love, Aphrodite, you are born again from
the foamy sea. But this is the birth of a new woman, able to be as quiet as the
sea during a calm, and as playful as the oncoming surf, able to be powerful and
sweeping away everything in her way as the wave of a tsunami, and to be soft
and lulling. Able to be different things, but always remaining herself. And this
woman arrives on the coast of the sea, ready to give and to fill. The pearl is a
symbol of feminine energy, and the whirlpool is the primary structure of that
energy.
I opened my eyes and looked at my aunt, still being under the influence of the
bewitching imagery and feeling my own regeneration.
‘Darling, what colour was the pearl?’ she asked me.
‘Black,’ I answered, as if seeing before me a fine black pearl with bluish outline.
‘Now you know what ninth stone you should receive as a gift.
‘The ninth stone?’
‘Yes, the crowning stone in your diadem, the symbol of feminine energy, a pearl.
‘You remember, I told you that a woman can take energy from the world? You lift
hands to the sky, and keep your feet firmly on the ground, parallel each other.
You will feel how a dense, dark and viscous stream of energy from the Earth
enters your feet and through your legs rises to the womb. From above a light,
transparent stream of energy from the air enters into your palms and with two
thin streamlets rush to the womb. Meeting in the womb, the energy starts to
spiral upwards, gradually taking hold of your whole body to the tips of fingers.
You feel, how your energy blends with the energy of all the women in the world;
those who are now alive, those who lived before us, and those who will live after.
You feel that your whirlpool of energy becomes stronger and stronger. And,
having found this new power, you return to the whirlpool, enclose it in your
womb and give thanks to space. If you unwrap the whirlpool, it is necessary to
wrap it again, such are the ethics of space, otherwise chaos will come and there
will be neither creativity nor love. As you have already understood, the womb is
the seat of your feminine power; it is necessary to fill it. Continue to do this ritual
for some days, and then we shall go further’.
‘And is it impossible just to wave a magic wand so I would already be full of
energy?’ I asked her with hope.
‘Sometimes it is necessary to devote some time to yourself so that during the
rest of your life others will devoted themselves to you,’ Sofia Nikolaevna
answered coolly and, as if as an afterthought added, ‘It is good that Mark won’t
arrive for another two months. You will have time to work on yourself…’
2003
Kisa and I decided to go to Tunisia and devote ourselves to ourselves. After
returning from Moscow, I immediately told Aniska and Kisa about the classes I
had attended at the Academy of a the Private Life. Aniska had an urgent contract
she had to see to, but Kisa supported me and declared that such things should be
done by the warm sea, instead of in the cold and grey June of St. Petersburg. In
a week we had already flown to Tunis.
For the first three days we simply laid on the beach and swam in the sea,
gradually returning to our senses after the mad rush of work. But then we looked
around and saw that many handsome men surrounded us.
‘Let's train,’ we thought and decided to celebrate the beginning of our new life
with shopping.
In one of small shops a beautiful necklace made of black diamonds and white
gold drew my attention. Made in the eastern style, it seemed as if it had been
brought directly from a harem. I asked the shop assistant to show me this
necklace.
‘I will help you to put it on,’ I heard a low man's voice say in good English and
felt how the shop assistant cautiously lifts my hair and clasped the necklace
around my neck. I approached a mirror, but looked more at the shop assistant
than at the necklace. He was good-looking with a slender nose, dark-brown eyes,
two dimples, strong hands, a smile filled with white teeth and thick, sensual lips.
‘It is my great-grandmothers influence that I have begun to like eastern men,’ I
thought. With each cell I felt an animal magnetism flowing out of him. The
necklace looked magnificent but cost an inconceivable amount of money. I
regretfully allowed it to be removed, once again feeling a touch of warm hands.
‘Should we go?’ Kisa asked.
‘Yes,’ I answered unwillingly still bewitched and hypnotized by the shop assistant.
‘I can offer you tea,’ the shop assistant said, obviously not wishing us to leave
and speaking with such tenderness as if he was himself her offered rather than
tea.
‘Yes,’ I agreed without hesitation.
‘Are you out of your mind?’ hissed Aniska. ‘He has thousands like you!’
‘We decided to train!’ I reminded her imperturbably.
‘My name is Valid,’ the shop assistant presented himself. ‘and yours?
‘Kisa and Lara!’
‘Would you like to go to a disco with me tonight? I can pick you in 10 p.m. in the
hotel, we will go to smoke a hookah and drink coffee. I shall treat you to our
local sweets, and then we will go to a disco!’ Valid described our evening not
doubting our consent.
‘I was married without my consent!’ Kisa has burst out laughing. ‘But it is
certainly more enjoyable, than to sit in hotel among married couples!’
‘OK,’ I answered.
‘Then I will wait for you at ten o'clock with my friend in the lobby.’
‘We are madwomen,’ Kisa said as soon as we left the shop. ‘And why do we need
it?’
‘As part of our study of other cultures,’ I shrugged.
‘Now she calls it a cultural exchange!’ Kisa said sarcastically.
And here we heard someone calling us and turned to see Valid running after us.
In his hands he held a rose.
‘This is for you,’ he said handing me the rose and, once again reminding us of our
meeting, disappeared.
‘Oh, it is already serious! The professional!’ Kisa commented.
‘Kisa, don’t bitter!’ I pleaded. ‘A rose always symbolises passion!’
1903
‘A rose always symbolises passion!’ said my aunt as she returned from a flower
shop with a huge bouquets of claret-coloured roses.
I sat reading a book. My aunt had given me a pile of French novels and the task
that while reading, I was to pay attention not to the plot, but to the construction
of relationships. Lost in my reading, I did not catch what she had said.
‘Sorry, what was that? I asked, turning away from the book.
‘About the place of your feminine power, about your internal flower, your womb.
Put the book aside and we shall go into the garden.’
I liked my aunt’s winter garden. It was filled with greenery and a huge picture on
the wall of a red poppy with four stretched petals. I was forever asking my aunt
whether the picture held any special meaning, but she only laughed, saying that
‘everything is good in its season’.
In the garden she put the roses in a standing vase on the floor and took it to the
centre of the room. Around it she spread out embroidered pillows, and our oasis
became a rooms in a harem. Comfortably settled on the pillows, my aunt began
to admire the roses. I followed her example and felt myself as an odalisque. The
flowers bewitched me with their freshness and fragrance.
‘Beautiful flowers,’ she said and turned to me. ‘Well, shall we look at your
internal flower?’
‘My internal flower?’
‘Yes, the place of your feminine power, your vagina and womb! The walls of the
vagina are as four petals of a flower: top and bottom, right and left.’
I looked mechanically at the picture of the poppy. She caught my look and
nodded:
‘Yes, now you know the secret meaning of this picture. This is our fine nature!
Close your eyes and see with your internal look, what colour are your petals, top,
right, bottom, right.’
‘Dark blue,’ I said in surprise, having opened my eyes. ‘Why?
‘So, you are driven too much by reading. You should think less and feel more,’
answered my aunt. ‘White symbolizes innocence, pink the need for care, red is
readiness for passion, and dark blue and violet, intense thought.’
‘My aunt,’ I was indignant, ‘it’s impossible to please you, it was you who ordered
me to read.’
‘Yes! I did,’ she easily agreed, ‘but do you want to be a bluestocking?’
‘A bluestocking? ‘I gasped. ‘So that is where the expression comes from!’
‘I did not say it,’ Sofia Nikolaevna answered. ‘But you are probably right.’
‘And now look once again at the roses and choose the one which is most pleasant
to you,’ she asked me.
Still not understanding what she was getting at, I chose a dense bud from the
bouquet.
‘Your rose isn’t yet opened. You are still closed to the world and to men! Take a
rose and inhale its aroma, fill yourself with it, fill your womb with this smell. And
now touch your bosom with a rose.’
‘My aunt, I hesitate,’ I quailed with confusion.
‘Well then, I shall leave and you may remain alone with yourself and your flower
and try to touch your nature with a rose. Imagine how you gently pass the rose
on the top petal and it is filled with flowers, then you softly pass the rose on the
left petal, and it too becomes coloured, you touch the right petal with the flower,
and it too becomes coloured, you touch the bottom petal, and it also becomes
coloured.
Having given me these instructions, she disappeared. I twisted the rose in my
hands and, convincing myself that there was nobody around, closed my eyes and
touched my body with the rose.
2003
I felt the touch of the rose on my body and, having opened my eyes, saw the
dark head of Valid bent over me and gently dragging the rose from my bottom
up to my lips. I laid on bed sheets covered with rose petals and enjoyed his
passionate kisses. It was our third meeting.

Summer romances develop like a shot! Kisa had disappeared with Valid’s friend
on the first night ‘to get a moon tan’ on the beach and returned terribly happy.
‘How was the cultural exchange?’ I asked her during breakfast.
‘He kissed my every toe and whispered a lot of pleasant words in English,
German and Russian!’ Kisa shared with me looking modestly at the floor. ‘Rich
cultural traditions!’ she summed up. ‘And what about you?’
‘I decided to extend the pleasure and, having said goodbye, went to bed right
after disco. Though I truly wanted to stay!’ I answered.
‘And where do we go today?’ Kisa asked with interest.
‘I think that we shan’t go to the opera!’ I joked.
‘All right, we will see. They promised to come at 10 o’clock tonight. Maybe they
will serenade us!’ Kisa said, lost in dreams.
The second evening we listened to Arabian songs sung by a local star. I was still
clinging to my defences and looked at Kisa who had not slept well but
nonetheless shone in the morning, with envy. Healthy sex worked wonders. And
why is it considered that it is the man who uses a woman? In this case sex was
included in the idea of summer rest and relaxation as an element of a healthy
way of life. The main thing was not to take it too seriously, and Kisa followed this
rule: she simply used Bessem, as Valid’s friend was called, as a living sex-
machine. And it seemed to work for the both of them. I was envious because I
couldn’t do behave that way, couldn’t have sex without emotional involvement.
Valid showered me with small gifts: a silver bracelet, some ridiculous pendants,
ceramic turtles, and with the question ‘When?’
On the third evening, getting ready for the disco, I made a decision to study the
Arabian traditions of love more deeply. Eastern disco set my blood on fire, and
the dance reminded me more of making love than simple movements to a beat.
The disco serves as some kind of test for compatibility, I thought, examining the
dancing pairs. At once it became clear who fits each other and who doesn’t.
Those who rode a similar wave moved together and merged in a common
rhythm. Those who couldn’t match each other in any way, separated, most
probably, with the feeling that in sex they won’t fit each other either.
We fitted (at least, in dance) perfectly. Becoming tired, I sat down to take a
breather and to drink some water. Valid sat down next to me and jokingly asked
the habitual question: ‘When?’ And I answered joking: ‘Today’. A passing flower-
shop assistant was stopped immediately and Valid whispered something in his
ear. In few minutes the flower- shop assistant appeared with a huge package.
‘What is it?’ I asked intrigued. Valid smiled and whispered:
‘Let’s go dance!’ We joined to the rest of the crowd heaving on the dance floor.
And here I was showered with rose petals! The sensation was inexpressible!
‘I saved some for our night together! Let’s go, I want to see you naked, laying on
roses!’
I reddened and thought that it is good so few people here understand English,
and I followed him obediently. Valid carried me to the bed and showered me with
both kisses and roses petals. Melting in his hot hands, I ceased to reproach
myself for being too easy and simply took my pleasure. All the men of my past
seemed tasteless and primitive. The Arabic temperament amazed and stunned
me, and I understood the expression: ‘He revealed the woman in her, he
discovered her internal flower’.
1903
‘Did you open your internal flower?’ my aunt asked when she returned after half
an hour.
I still lay on the pillows, lost in deep sensations.
‘I tried,’ I answered.
‘Your shining eyes show that you succeeded! It’s a pity that a woman expects for
a man to wake and open her when she is perfectly capable of opening a canyon
of passion in her herself. And you can open your flower of desire, and you can
close it before troubles,’ she continued.
‘How can I open it?
‘Imagine your petals directed towards the object of your desire or towards a
desirable event and as you exhale they are extended, extended beyond the
borders of your body. Then, before you take the next breath, seize the image of
a desirable event and when you inhale, draw it into your womb. With what do
you want to please yourself today?’
‘Let’s begin with something simple, cakes,’ I decided and, having imagined the
freshest éclairs with chocolate, opened my petals and drew the flower back. ‘In
my opinion, it looks like a predatory flower which catches insects in such a way!’
I remembered.

‘The true woman is always a bit of a predator!’ she agreed without being appalled
with such a comparison at all. ‘The difficulty is in choosing the correct victim and
to wait for it, instead of spending time and energy on trifles! We will return to our
flower. You can close your space before troubles or undesirable events! You
imagine a picture of an undesirable event, you extend the petals, only don’t
grasp that which is unnecessary to you, and close petals in a bud in front of this
picture and draw the bud back.
‘Yes, it really is the place of feminine power,’ I agreed.
‘Now, when you have realized yourself, you can start to accumulate energy so
that your flower will be always fresh,’ she said and continued: ‘you breathe
through a point in the centre of your forehead (the centre of intuition) and
simultaneously compress and tighten the muscles of the vagina. On the pause
between breaths you pass the energy through your spine into the womb, filling it,
and as you exhale you allow the energy to rise in a wave upward, to the centre of
your intuition, then take the next breath. You do 20 such cycles. The stronger
your muscles become, the more energy you can obtain and be able to retain. I’ll
teach you special exercises for your muscles which you will do in the mornings
and in the evenings.’

To contents

***
Chapter 4. The field of sexuality

2003
‘You will need to do these exercises in the mornings and in the evenings. For
millennia women did them to strengthen their sexual energy. In antiquity,
mothers began to teach their daughters when they turned eight years old. Strong
muscles helped women to give birth and, most importantly, to give inconceivable
pleasure to both the man and the woman herself. But at the same time a woman
couldn’t allow man to enter herself if she didn’t want him to. Feeling the power of
such women, men began to be afraid of them and denigrated sexuality and
everything that was connected with the intimate muscles.
The tradition was guarded and passed on only in the feminine temples found
scattered around the world. Ordinary women couldn’t maintain such knowledge,
and gradually feminine power became just a legend,’ said Zhenechka, the
teacher of sexual rituals in the Academy of the Private Life.
Having returned from Tunis, happy and rested, Kisa and I rushed off to Moscow
to finish our studies at the first opportunity. On the second day, we felt that our
ideas about ourselves, about men, and about the world in general had just begun
to come nearer to reality. But the special delight for us was caused by the “little
stimulator” (as it was affectionately called at the academy) for the intimate
muscles. Having twisted it in my hands and amazed by the simplicity and grace
of the engineering (it was created by V. Muranivsky who as a young man had
spent the night with a woman with trained muscles and was so amazed, that he
spent the rest of his life searching for someone with same skill, and, not having
found her, created this device for the pleasure of all the rest), I started training.
It’s good that it took only five minutes in morning and five in the evening. Within
two weeks I felt that the reaction of the men surrounding me had started to
change. Their special looks amused my vanity and I felt desired and irresistible.
1903
At last I felt desired. However, it took a month of daily ritual training the
muscles. Every morning I sat down on my heels, straightened my back and,
slightly bending my head forward, closed my eyes. Breathing in, I contracted my
muscles and held them taught, counting, and only then exhaled and completely
relaxed. At first I could hold it only for about a second, then two, then three and
gradually arrived at ten seconds. My aunt warned me that it is important to not
be overzealous and not to work more than ten minutes: ten times at a slow
tempo, ten times fast, ten times slow, ten times fast, ten times slow, ten times
fast. It seemed to me, that 100 contractions at one time was an unattainable
feat, but Sofia Nikolaevna calmed me, having promised that in two to three
weeks I would find even 300 contractions a day easy.
Simultaneously I studied various rituals and sensual massage, so the time flew
by. The meeting on the ship seemed a distant dream, and I wanted very much
that it would became a reality at last. For now I enjoyed the greedy looks of
other men.
‘Dear, it is time to leave the house and walk along Nevsky prospect,’ said my
aunt one day. ‘And please look at then men, don’t look down. Men see only those
who notice them and who are surrounded by a field of attractiveness. The main
thing is to receive sincere pleasure from the effect you make!’
2003
I received sincere pleasure from the effect I made! Cars stopped after I appeared
in the streets. And what cars! ВМWs, Porches, Mercedes! If stopping a car in
Moscow had earlier demanded time and was rather problematic, now it was as if,
with a wave of a magic wand, all of them rushed to wherever I appeared. Men
were happy to take me where I wanted, and were offended if I offered money.
Certainly, before leaving the house it was necessary to open the flower and to
shroud myself with an exciting field of sexuality (to contract my muscles on the
intake of breath and on exhalation to open the petals in the region of the womb,
approximately four fingers below the navel, doing this until I felt a pleasant heat
in the pit of my stomach). And the results I achieved were worth it.
When an invitation for a summer party at the business school came, I already felt
prepared. It is good that the stimulator was invented and I didn’t have to spend
as much time to develop my muscles and my own sexuality as my great-
grandmother did. Therefore, two weeks of trainings were enough to be fully
armed for the party. By the way, I noticed at once that all twenty men from our
group began to look at me differently than before.
‘You dance with everyone, except me,’ whispered Matvey indignantly, at last
having pulled me from the embraces of one of classmates. The party near the
pool was in a full swing. Everyone was enjoying themselves and I enjoyed the
furore I made and, laughing, flitted from one partner to another. Pleasant offers
on how to spend the rest of night came from different directions.
Unfortunately, the one I liked most was not influenced by the ancient techniques.
Proudly rejecting other offers, I spent half the night reflecting and decided what
must be done to transform the apparent interest into passion.

To contents

***
 Part 2. Levels of Feminine Influence and Levels of
Relationships

Chapter 5. From interest to passion

1903
‘To transform interest into passion you need to save up enough power, my girl. If
you were already able to awaken the interest of a man then you already have
such power,’ my aunt complimented me during our small walk from one shop to
another. I tried to keep my eyes up, as she had taught me, but I so was
confused inside, that I did not notice reaction of men passing by. But their
reaction was not hidden from the close scrutiny of my dear my aunt. According to
her remark, she was very happy with the effect I made.
‘The more feminine energy you have, the stronger, more successful men you can
attract,’ she continued when we came back home, loaded down with purchases
and impressions. ‘To become desired by a gardener is easy, but only woman
having enormous sexual energy can be desired by an emperor. Some people are
gifted with such energy from birth, and some need years of trainings to reach the
same level.
The first level of feminine power is physical authority and the skill to attract. It is
given to us at birth and generally depends on our physical appeal. But it doesn’t
define everything. Only the power of our sexual energy defines whom we attract,
whether it is a beggar or a minister.
Men too have different levels of masculine power, to be exact, they have seven
of them. At the first level he earns money just to survive, on the second he has
enough for a house and to maintain a family, but, as a rule, he is still a hired
worker. On the third level he has energy for his own business, maybe small, but
bringing in a stable income, and other people start to work for him. The fourth
level of masculine energy is the level of the plasma of the sun. He becomes well
known; money flows to him like a river. But glory passes if the man doesn’t rise
to the fifth level of authority. Having reached it, he can become a celebrated
dignitary, a minister or to have a big business which is worth millions. It is the
level of the international companies with thousand of workers.
The sixth level is the psychological authority of the man. It is the level of kings
and emperors or those whose names are remembered for centuries:
philosophers, writers, and artists. A man who has reached the sixth level of
power is one whose ideas influence mankind for a long time, to one who leaves
an appreciable mark on history.
The man who reaches the seventh level is the one for whom the spirit has
become more important than earthly problems.
But behind each of them there is a woman. Only she can raise a man to such
heights or deprive him everything. As the sun draws planets, so a woman filled
with energy draws men. And the more energy she has the bigger the planet she
can draw, the more important a man she can attract. A specific number
corresponds to each level there. Doing the necessary quantity of turns, you
strengthen your potential energy and reconstruct the cells of your body. You
already make a whirlpool for the accumulation of energy. And now you should
untwist this whirlpool, to make it more powerful.

Whirlpool for the attraction of men

As you inhale, clasp your hands before your breast, as if you are praying. When
you exhale, lift your hands along your sides and enter into a power stream,
connecting the palms above your head. As you inhale, lower them again to the
level of the breast, between breaths turn them over to face downwards and
lower them to the level of the centre of passion (four fingers below navel), focus
your energy, and moving your palms apart, connect your fingers, forming a
triangle around this centre, and as you exhale open the whirlpool, lifting hands
you upwards without bending your elbows.
Also make clockwise turns. The quantity of turns depends on the level of the one
you wish to attract: three times for the first level, seven times to attract men on
the second level, seventeen for the third, thirty-four for the fourth, seventy-two
to attract a minister, and one-hundred eight to meet an emperor. Twenty-eight
days are required for your cells to be regenerated from one level on another. Try
to begin with seven times and if it goes easily, you can increase it to seventeen.
Also, don’t forget to give thanks after ritual and to mentally close the space.

2003
‘53, 56,’ I counted, turning around, struggling with nausea and with the desire to
stop and fall powerless to the floor. ‘It is good for ballerinas, they are taught
since the childhood to spin around in circles, that’s probably why Kshesinskay
drove three grand dukes mad,’ I thought, and finally, upon reaching 72, fell
exhausted on the sofa.
July came, and I decided that it was time to improve my skills; that oil tycoons
were quite worthy of my attention. Estimating that in modern terms they
correspond to the fifth level, I thought that if I could reach it then all managers
(the second level), owners of small enterprises, directors (the third level) and
stars in all fields (the fourth level) will surely follow. All the same, I had trouble
imagining where it would be possible to meet an oil tycoon, but my belief in the
power of the ancient techniques allowed me to hope for a miracle. And the
miracle happened, though not in Petersburg, but in Sochi where our corporation
decided to have three-day training seminar.
On the second day of my stay in this wonderful city, I arrived for breakfast and,
already having taken a croissant, began to search for a place to sit down. All the
small tables were occupied and, as I had overslept, there were no familiar faces.
When suddenly three men kindly invited to join to their company. We talked over
our breakfast, discussing what different winds carried us all to Sochi.
‘We too are here on business,’ one of them answered. ‘We arrived to check the
construction of one of our new gas stations. ‘But, I think, business can wait.
When you meet so charming a girl, it is better to enjoy the sea and a yacht.
When does your seminar end?’ He looked at me inquisitively with hooded eyes.
‘At seven,’ I muttered indistinctly, internally exulting that oil tycoons had
materialized in front of me.
‘So give us your phone number, we’ll call,’ he continued imperiously. The two
others, probably his employees, just smiled approvingly.
All day I was on pins and needles, expecting a call, and … he did not call back.
On the one hand, I sighed with relief: three unfamiliar persons and a yacht, who
knows what could happen. And, most likely, I wouldn’t go anyway. But the bare
fact of the silence depressed me. Probably I had learned how to attract, but did
not know how to keep.
1903
‘It seems to me, I have already learned to attract, maybe the time for a meeting
with Mark has come?’ I begged. ‘Enough time has passed already, I do
something, but till now I did not meet him.’
‘You can attract him, but will you manage to keep him?’ asked my dear my aunt
with some doubt. ‘The second level of feminine power also defines the skill to
keep. To maintain space, men, and money. And again the same numbers define
our ability to keep that has what appeared in our life. This level already defines
the space we take: someone lives in a hut, someone in a palace. To be the wife
of shoemaker is easy, but being the wife of an emperor requires much more
power. But this is all the second level, just the different strength of energy. The
power of one who lives in a palace corresponds to the number 108. So it all
depends on you, whose wife you will become.
But in fact I already told you, that woman creates man. If you will fall in love
with a shoemaker and marry him, he can become emperor despite his low
origins. History knows such cases. But if he remains a shoemaker, you should
blame only yourself. It will mean that you did not develop and did not save
energy but only lost it in the course of time and didn’t manage to use it as you
should.
But we shall return to the second level of feminine power, to the level of sexual
authority.
For this you do the same whirlpool as for attraction, only you open whirlpool
downwards and turn counter-clockwise. It is desirable to do the same amount of
turns upwards and downwards. For some it is easier to attract, for others to
keep, it is very obvious when you do this technique. If it is very difficult, don’t
forget to close the space. And always thank space after finishing.
I am sorry but I can’t tell you about following levels until you pass these first
two.’ My aunt reflected, as if she saw into the future, and continued: ‘Who knows
who will tell you about this further … But in any case, energy for following levels
you will take from the feminine energy. Therefore it is very important to have a
surplus, as further on you will direct it where you decide, to a man, to glory, to
authority, or to the attraction of riches.’
 2003
‘A skill to earn money yourself is the third level of feminine power, social power,’
Aruna told me. (Just after I returned from Sochi I rushed to Moscow to search for
the answers to my questions.)
‘This level is named the whirlwind and that’s why if a woman manages to
organise and successfully develop her business, in Russia people says, that she is
“unwound”, she unwound her whirlwind.
As you inhale, you connect you hands before a breast, as if in prayer. As you
exhale, you lift your hands and enter into a power stream, connecting your
palms above the head. As you take the next breath, you lower them again down
to the level of the breast, on the pause between breaths you turn palms
downwards and lower them to the level of the solar plexus. On the pause
between breaths you focus the energy and as you exhale you lift your hands
above the head again along your sides and clasp them, binding and directing all
the fingers upwards. Rising on tiptoe, you do a corresponding number of turns:
3, 7, 17, 34, 73, 108, 117.
At the third level a woman can earn thousands of dollars, it is the level of a small
shop, or salon, cafe, etc. One-hundred years ago only a few of women reached
this level, but times have changed and now many ladies are successful in
business.
But here there is one problem, masculine energy starts to dominate on the third
level and if a woman directs all her power towards earning money, she starts to
loose feminine energy of the second (sexuality) and the fourth (emotional) levels.
A man ceases to perceive her as a woman; he sees and feels a partner in her, a
friend, sometimes a competitor, but not a woman. And this doesn’t depend on
age or appearance.
This is the main problem of many businesswomen, they have achieved the third
level of authority, but the manifestation of feminine energy is blocked. If we
don’t know how to fill and increase the energy we can only do business, and
don’t have the energy for love.
Well, we shall try to look at what energy prevails inside you, feminine or
masculine.
Close your eyes and imagine that you stand opposite a painting of your own
portrait. You have a palette in your hands, but it has only two colours, red and
white. You take a brush and start to paint your figure - head, hands, trunk, and
legs. After finishing, you open your eyes.
What happened to you? If to give a percentage, what colour prevails?’ Aruna
addressed herself to me.
‘White is about 60 percent and red – 40,’ I answered.
‘Masculine energy prevails in you. In an ideal case there should be no more than
25 percent of masculine energy, and 75 of feminine. If the parity is broken, your
masculine energy starts to supersede the energy of your man. Therefore a man
starts to lose power near such women, turning into a “milksop”. For this reason
strong and successful men subconsciously stay away from strong and successful
women.’
‘That makes much clear, but why does masculine energy dominate in me?’
‘You took too much responsibility on yourself, you earn money but not because it
brings pleasure to you, but because you should maintain yourself.’
‘So what? Many people earn their own livings. What is wrong in being successful
and rich?’
‘There isn’t anything bad. But it shouldn’t be a surprise then that many men have
changed sexual orientation and so many impotent and weak men appeared. Our
independence and power destroy them. But the most terrible thing is that greater
responsibility also destroys the woman. Domination of masculine energy leads to
the development of female illnesses. The organism doesn’t forgive neglect of our
nature.
‘But how to be simultaneously successful, to earn money yourself without turning
into a man?’
‘Money will come thanks to creativity. A woman is an embodiment of the creative
energy of the Universe. Therefore those few women who discovered their talent,
who are engaged in creativity, no matter what the sphere, are successful and
rich, while maintaining their feminine energy. Because earning money isn’t their
overall aim. To get money enough to live is the primary goal of the man.’
‘And doesn’t such responsibility oppress the man?’
‘That's just the point, that responsibility makes a man even stronger. And a
woman pays for it with illnesses. Nature is wise and it is necessary to follow her
rules. The feminine belongs to the woman, the masculine to the man.’
1903
‘The feminine belongs to the woman, the masculine to the man. Now we will
divide masculine and feminine energy,’ I heard this through my dreams. It was
early morning, about 4 a. m., when my aunt came to awaken me.
‘Why so early?’ I protested. ‘No man is worth such tortures!’ and I buried myself
under the blanket.
‘The man isn’t,’ agreed my aunt. ‘But you do it not for the man, but for yourself.
So get up, you will sleep after your victory!’
I slipped from the bed, washed somehow and came in the dining room. My aunt
was already waiting there for me, drinking coffee.
‘Let’s go to the winter garden, or we will wake the servants.’
We went to the winter garden. Citrus trees blossomed in pots, filling the room
with their heady fragrance.
‘This ancient technique is called “The cocks”. It will help you to separate
masculine energy from feminine and help you to accept and love yourself. Close
your eyes and repeat after me.
Keeping our legs parallel, we exhale, we then lift our hands above the head and
connect them in a triangle. As we inhale, we lower the triangle down to the level
of the breast, mentally dividing energy in half: white to the right, red to the left.
As we exhale we turn the triangle downwards and lower it to the ground. We
repeat this three times. Then we sit down, put our elbows in the concavities
above the knee and wait until the hands are joined. Whichever hand moves more
quickly shows what energy prevails in us. When the hands join, we lift them up
to the chin and put our thumbs under the chin, and with index fingers press on a
point under nose (the point of pre-memory). The other fingers we make into the
shape of a megaphone. And in this megaphone we do 8 exhalations and three
times shout “cock-a-doodle-doo”, welcoming the sunrise. Having shouted “cock-
a-doodle-doo”, we then slide the thumbs upwards along the face to the top of
our head, from there we straighten our fingers and lift our hands towards the
sun.
Now you can open eyes.’
I opened my eyes and looked at my aunt.
‘It was ridiculous to crow!’ I said. ‘But my right hand really lived its own life.’
‘You shouldn’t do everything with a pious expression, laughter kills fear. This
ritual also takes away the fear of success, fear of publicity and fear of popularity.
If you are fine with the masculine and feminine energies and are able to
overcome these fears, you can pass to the fourth level of feminine authority, the
emotional level.’
2003
‘The fourth level of authority is emotional authority. It is at this level of charm
when a woman becomes an idol to everyone, when everyone is in love with her.
Having reached this level, she becomes well known; it is the level of glory. When
a woman reaches this level, money appears by itself,’ continued Aruna. I had
decided to stay in Moscow for a week to go to her classes.
‘Opening the whirlpool from the level of the heart helps you to attain emotional
authority. As always we stand with our legs parallel to each other. As we breathe
out, we lift our hands and connect them above the head. With an intake of
breath we lower the triangle to the heart and on the exhale open a horizontal
whirlpool. During the pause between breaths we imagine how we are applauded
by admirers, how they as for our autographs as we bathe in the light of glory;
then, with the next breath we close the whirlpool and put our hands on the
breast.’
While I repeated the movements, an idea dawned on me.
‘Maybe my great-grandmother is one of your embodiments?’ I asked
thoughtfully.
‘No, it’s just that knowledge is indivisible,’ answered Aruna easily, unsurprised by
my question. ‘And each woman collects her own mosaic, her own pieces of
information to create a picture of the world. You have everything to become a
woman of the fifth level.’
‘The fifth level of authority is an existential authority,’ continued Aruna. ‘It is the
level of the personal plane, of billionaires, of great authority. A woman of the fifth
level becomes a governor, the prime minister, or owner of a big corporation.
The sixth level is that of mental authority. A woman defines about what and how
mankind thinks. She can write only one book, but receives everything, glory, and
money, and a man, like, for example, J.K. Rowling, the author of HARRY
POTTER; or she creates a fashion, as Coco Chanel, or as Catherine the Great, she
creates a new country, expanding both physical and intellectual borders.
The seventh level is that if spiritual authority, of the connection between the
highest powers and people. They are the spiritual teachers of mankind, like Elena
Blavatskaya, Elena Roerich, and Mother Theresa.
You decide for yourself which level you wish to reach. Everything depends on
your feminine energy and your skill in directing it to the necessary channel. The
more you have it, the more you can achieve, the more men will be in your life.’
‘But I don’t want many men, I want one and only one,’ I objected, still stunned
by the fascinating prospect.

To contents

***
Chapter 6. What kind of relationship do you want? (A strategy for
marriage)

1903
‘I want only one man,’ I begged on one of evenings, addressing my aunt. ‘I
gradually start to lose hope that we will ever meet.’
‘Darling, before you meet him it is necessary to understand how you will build
relations from the beginning to the end. You should know yourself and
understand what you want. You have two ways: to become his lover or to
become his wife.’
‘Oh my aunt, in my opinion, everyone wants to marry their beloved,’ I objected.
‘Not necessarily, but you are right, it is always easier to take the second path, to
behave as if you are going to marry him. After becoming a mistress, it is almost
impossible to become the wife. Therefore, it is initially better to build relations
according to the script of marriage. It is possible to transform a potential
husband into a lover or an admirer at any moment.
In fact a mistress is just one of four states of woman.
In a wife a man wishes to have everything: a passionate mistress, an inspiring
muse or an unapproachable queen, an enthusiastic girl, and a ardent lover. The
man expects, even if unconsciously, for the satisfaction of all his needs: mental,
emotional, physical and sexual.
On the physical level he expects for a woman to take care of him, to feed him
with tasty breakfasts or suppers, to keep order in the house, to support and calm
him during difficult moments. This state of woman is called THE MISTRESS.
Simultaneously, on an emotional level, he would like to see a helpless girl
requiring his protection, a girl who admires him and enthusiastically listens to his
every word. A girl who recklessly trusts in his talents, is glad of his successes,
appreciates his efforts and gifts, even the simplest ones.
On the psychological level the man expects cleverness and erudition from a
woman, with the skill to conduct intellectual conversation, who will be well
informed about his business and its problems, who is able to direct and inspire
him, be interesting and independent, creative and unpredictable. He wants to see
in her a queen or a muse.
But all these are nothing compared with what a man expects at night. That’s why
people say: “A night bird gets more food than a day bird”. A passionate and
skilful lover, perfectly managing her intimate muscles, knowing all the secrets of
the art of love, the secret points on a man’s body, she is one who isn’t afraid of
any forbidden caresses, and receives unlimited authority. A man can never be
sated with such woman, and he is drawn to her again and again, he thirsts for
her and aspires to spend every night only with her.
A man dreams to find everything in one woman, a lover, a mistress, a queen,
and a girl. These are four basic manifestations of the feminine energy, the four
basic states of woman.
Men are at all times intuitively drawn to those who unites these different
manifestations because they felt that only such a woman can raise a man, help
him to find power and integrity. Only when a woman joins a man on all four
levels is he filled with energy and is ready to accomplish anything.
Only such a woman can help a man to win the world, which he will then be ready
to throw at her feet. Only such a woman can help her man to reach those heights
which are his by destiny. If a woman embodies all these states, she closes the
circle of feminine power and, as a symbol of it, she usually gets a wedding ring
as a gift.
During courting a woman should pass through all four of the states we which
talked about: a girl, a lover, a queen and a mistress. A man checks how well she
knows these levels, whether she can subsequently satisfy all his needs. On this
the strategy of marriage is built.’
‘The strategy of marriage?’ I jumped from the armchair. ‘Dear my aunt, will you
tell me about it?
‘Certainly!’ Sofia Nikolaevna told. ‘There is a certain sequence to be followed
when building relationships. Understanding the direction in which to move, you
will reach the goal and avoid many difficulties, but at the same time you choose
the way yourself. What do you think, in which state does the woman attract the
most attention?’
‘In the state of the lover?’ I assumed.
‘Yes!’ my aunt was surprised. ‘It seems that I told you everything! Maybe you will
continue yourself?’
‘No,’ I begged, ‘it’s better if you’ll do it!’
‘Well,’ said my aunt taking pity. ‘A lover attracts but if you spend night with a
man, you remain just a mistress in his eyes. To marry him, it is necessary to
pass on to the state of a queen and to awaken the man’s instinct as a hunter.
And after he has won you, you become the obedient girl allowing him to make all
decisions and take all the responsibility. Only after you become engaged can you
show what a remarkable mistress you can be. If you break this sequence, the
relationship either quickly comes to an end, or lasts without any result. If you do
everything correctly, you will close the circle of feminine power.’
‘For ever?’ I was doubtful.
‘Certainly not. If because of some event, or your own beliefs or education, the
woman concentrates on one state, for example mistresses, and forgets about
others, the circle of feminine power is broken and the man begins to search for
one who will satisfy his other needs, one who can give him a lover, a girl or a
queen.’
‘But my mum always told me that a good wife is first of all a good mistress!’ I
reminded my aunt.
‘And then mothers are surprised when their sons-in-law take a lover?’ my aunt
said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘In family life too many women focus all their
efforts on being a good mistress. Russian tradition has accustomed us to it. But a
greater danger is concealed there. A woman dedicates herself to the household,
to the education of the children, and at the same time to the education of her
husband. In preparing breakfast, lunch and supper she forgets how to be a
passionate lover or an enthusiastic girl.
She forgets that though a man may appreciate a mistress and is grateful to her
for the cosiness she provides, he does not desire her at all. Everything is fine in
moderation, To keep a man always with you flared in passion as in the first
years, it is necessary to constantly change yourself, to live in all four states.’
‘My aunt, do you think, is it possible that a man remain faithful to a single
woman? It contradicts his nature!
2003
‘You seriously think it is possible that a man remain faithful to one woman?’ I
addressed this question to Antonina. Antonina was conducting THE WOMAN AND
THE ELEMENTS seminar, which I was attending with enthusiasm.
I decided to visit every class I could find which mentioned feminine energy. Until
now I liked them all. Me and three of my girlfriends who I persuaded with great
efforts to devote their days off to getting to know themselves, sat on the floor
around Antonina and listened to her every word. Antonina looked closely at me
and answered easily:
‘Quite probably, if the woman is wise enough to play different roles. In different
traditions these roles are called differently, but the essence is the same. There
are four basic manifestations of feminine energy, four states of a woman: a
lover, a bitch, a girl and a mistress.’
‘It is very similar to what my great-grandmother wrote, only instead of a bitch
she had a queen,’ I noted.
‘Yes, the bitch is a recent development. Successful, self-sufficient, able to reach
her goals. There were hundreds of books on the theme of how to become a bitch.
But it shouldn’t be forgotten, that the bitch only is one of the states. A bitch
attracts, but men marry the girl.
‘And a girl turns into a mistress, and from a mistress the man leaves for a lover,’
I depicted a sad picture.
‘Yes, this happens if the woman ceases to be a bitch, a mistress, a lover, and a
girl in one person. But if she has everything, why would a man seek someone
elsewhere? Unfortunately, in due course women somehow forget this.’
‘Why forget? I haven’t heard anything about it before, and my girlfriends either.’
Aniska, Kisa and Manechka nodded their heads agreeing with me.
‘You may not have heard about them, but it does not mean that these states
aren’t familiar to you. To be born as a woman is already to be born with intuitive
knowledge of all these states. It’s just that the degree to which these states
manifest is different for different women. In some the mistress is more prevalent,
in some, the bitch, while in others, the mistress, and yet others, the girl.
If the state of the girl dominates, everyone around is surprised why such a
lovely, kind and obedient girl is still alone, forgetting, that it isn’t the girl that
originally attracts men, but a passionate lover. Or on the contrary, someone likes
to be independent and free, to make the decisions herself, to be in a state of the
bitch. Yes, in some way this state is the optimum to drive a man out of his mind,
but, having achieved what he wanted, a man expects for the tigress to turn into
a tender kitten and if this doesn’t occur, he, unable to stand the pressure,
disappears.’
‘What does the state depend on?’
‘From an element prevailing in you. Each element allocates to you a certain
energy at the moment of birth.
The element of Earth, strong and intrinsic, gives a woman calmness, practicality,
validity and reliability. The element of Fire is hot and pulsing, it makes a woman
unpredictable, passionate and sexual. The element of Water gives a woman
emotionality and spontaneity, playfulness and softness. The element of Air makes
a woman self-sufficient and persistent, independent and logical.
But a woman isn’t obliged to live only the life that is given to her at a birth. She
can strengthen those energies which are less prominent in her. Through
connections with the elements a woman finds a new state of integrity and power.
There is a legend that the first teachers of priestesses in the temple of Aphrodite
were four goddesses embodying these elements and sharing out a woman each
by her power and knowledge, authority and wisdom.’
Antonina showed us a copy of the ancient manuscript on which four goddesses
were shown, and told us about them:
‘The beautiful yellow goddess came from the West and embodied the element of
the Earth. The one in whom the Earth prevails is a good mistress.
The refined red goddess came from East and embodied the element of Fire. The
one in whom Fire dominates is a temperamental lover.
The charming green goddess came from South and embodied the element of
Water. The one in whom Water is strongly present is an enthusiastic girl.
The delightful blue goddess lived in the North and embodied the element of Air.
The one in whom Air prevails is a clever bitch.’
We looked bewitched at the fine goddesses, and then almost simultaneously
exhaled.
‘And how to learn which state is appears most strongly in us?
Antonina smiled, obviously expecting this question.
‘To learn which elements prevails in you, you need to go on an imagined voyage
and meet each goddess to feel her energy and vibrations, to understand what is
most comfortable for you. Are you ready? Then close your eyes, take a breath
and as you exhale, imagine yourself in an ancient wood. You come to a glade and
see…
1903
I came to a glade and looked round. A flute was playing somewhere, and I
turned to my aunt to ask who was playing. But she put her finger to her lips and
shook her head. On the morning of July 6th, my aunt declared, we leave for a
short journey and we will spent the night of Ivan Kupala on an island in the
middle of lake Ladoga. On this day the elements are active and it is possible to
take their energy.
It was already darkening, when we the lake. On the coast a boat was waiting for
us. Everything was mysterious and interesting. The boat quietly slipped across
the dark smooth surface of the water. My aunt remained silent. Silence helps to
conserve energy, and since that morning my aunt hadn’t said a word and forbade
me to stir.
We reached a small island. We disembarked and the boat disappeared. It seemed
that the island was deserted. And then, like phantoms, four feminine figures
appeared. They were dressed in long dresses of different colours: light blue, gold,
dark red and apple green. The style reminded me of medieval dresses, only much
more courageous: narrow sleeves extending from top to bottom, fitting at the top
to a sharp plunging neckline down to navel, slightly exposing the naked breast,
and wide at the bottom. The dress was held in place by a belt. Each of them had
belts twisted from a fabric of corresponding colour and something golden. The
faces of the women were covered with hoods.
They surrounded me. I looked towards my aunt, but she just nodded her head,
as if to say that there was nothing to be afraid of.
The girl in blue stayed in the North, the girl in gold in the West, the girl in red in
the East and the girl in green in the South. They connected hands: the right palm
above, the left below. Nobody said anything but the music became louder, and I
felt that I had become the centre of a whirlpool; it was as if I was shrouded in a
warm wave. Opening their hands, the girls approached me and began to undress
me as if I was a queen. Standing naked, I didn’t feel cold at all.
The thin girl, almost a baby, in a green dress took me by the hand and, throwing
off her dress with one movement, led me into lake. The water reminded me of
fresh milk. With light movements from top to bottom she washed all the
weariness off me, all the experiences of the past few months. I felt how droplets
of water permeated deep into me and dissolved all unnecessary sensations. The
girl started talking with a melodious voice, addressing the water, ordering me to
repeat after her: ‘Oh, transparent, smooth surface of the sacred lake, oh, divine
mother of everything alive! The sovereign of heaven and underground waters! Be
my patroness. Grant me clarity and cleanliness, sympathy and compassion,
belief, hope, and love. Give me power and authority to subdue the unsubdued
and, and to achieve the unachieved’
I repeated after her and felt how the element of Water filled me with a new
power. The girl again took me by the hand and led me to the shore. Throwing a
white dress of the same style as hers over my shoulders, she, still naked, with
droplets of water streaming down her body, handed me an open shell with a
black pearl.
‘It is the gift of the element of Water. It bestows emotional authority on you.
Take it and reign over the hearts of men just as you own this pearl.’
And the girl in green disappeared.
I stood admiring the pearl, and then came the girl with a magnificent body in the
red dress. She took me by the hand and led me after her. We came to a glade on
which a fire was burning. Suddenly drums began playing, and the girl, throwing
off her clothes, began a violent dance around the fire. The entire dance was
penetrated by primitive desire and passion. Her lips were slightly opened in
longing for a kiss, her breast rose and fell. She resembled a wild woman,
unpredictable in her actions and her desires, open to everything new and
undiscovered. The one who lives by instinct and listens only to the voice of
nature. I felt her pulse with the rhythm and joined in the dance myself.
Someone's invisible hands removed my dress from me and the girl took me by
my hand, drawing me into a circle. We danced around the fire and all my
puritanical bashfulness burned down in it and was lost in the rhythm of the
dance. A wave of excitation pierced me. It took me a while to understand the
words the girl addressed to the fire.
‘Oh, great eternal flame, creator of heat and light, the spark of a life, alive and
bright! Light me the path of truth. Be the true satellite in my explorations and
undertakings. Grant ardency and passion, desire and pleasure to me. Give me
power and authority to subdue the unsubdued, and to achieve the unachieved.’
When the music had ended, the girl with the red belt stood in front of me and
handed me a red candle:
‘This is a gift of the element of Fire. It bestows sexual authority on you. Take it
and own the desire of men as you own this candle. When the candle will burn
down, light a new one from its flame, and the power will pass to it.’
And the girl in red disappeared.
Still shivering from excitement, I didn’t feel the cool of the night air, but was glad
when the girl in yellow handed me my white dress.
She silently took me by the hand and led me into the depths of the wood. We
approached a cave. Two burning torches glowed in the cave. I was a bit terrified.
The girl in the yellow dress smiled approvingly, and I followed her. The cave was
dry and light because of the torches standing at its perimeter. In the middle
towered a big stone like a pedestal, which was crowned with a huge crystal of
pink quartz. The girl approached the quartz and touched it with her palms. I
followed her example. Powerful energy pierced me from the crystal.
‘Sacred Mother Earth, keeper of dark vaults, minerals and precious stones, the
lady of mountains and valleys! Become a support for me. Grant me purpose and
aspiration, durability and restoration. Give me power and authority to subdue the
unsubdued, and to achieve the unachieved.’ As I repeated the words after the
girl, I felt as if I had put down roots in the ground. Feeling the sensations, I
stood near the crystal. The girl approached me and handed small pink crystal on
a silver chain.
‘This is a gift of the element of Earth. It bestows physical authority on you. Take
it and own the body of man as you own this crystal.’
‘What do you mean, “own the body of man”’? I didn’t understand.
‘Everything, that he will eat from your hands will be the most delicious he has
ever had, everything he sees, he will see with your eyes, everything, he will
breathe in, will intoxicate him with your smell, everything he will touch, will
remind him of the tenderness of your caress, everything he will hear, will sound
like your voice.’
‘It is tempting, but it is unreal,’ I smiled.
The girl smiled, took the crystal from my hands and put it on my neck.
‘Everything is real, when you have enough power,’ she whispered and
disappeared, as if dissolving.
I left the cave, and was surprised that the night had almost ended, and that the
darkness was replaced by pearlescent shimmer of the pre-dawn hours. The girl in
the blue dress already hastened forward to meet me. We began to climb a hill
and, when we reached the top, stopped. Below, the waters of the lake splashed
and an easy breeze blew. The girl lifted her hands to the sky and addressed her
words to a growing wind:
‘The Master of winds, the master of the boundless sky, the trustee of heights! Be
my patron. Grant me flexibility and insight, idea and inspiration. Give me the
power and authority to subdue the unsubdued, and to achieve the unachieved’.
As soon as I stopped repeating these words I felt that something light fell at my
feet. I lowered my gaze and saw a feather. The girl in blue lifted it and, as if it
were of the greatest value, handed it to me.
‘This is a gift of the element of Air. It bestows mental authority on you. Take it
and reign over the minds of men just as you own this feather.’
I returned to the glade and saw all four priestesses. They stood around of me
and, silently connecting hands, shrouded me in calmness, harmonizing all the
energies that raged within me. Once again I felt myself.
Then my aunt appeared and handed me my clothes.
‘I hope it was interesting for you to discover something new in yourself. With
whom did you feel most comfortable?’ my aunt asked.
‘With the girls in red and in green!’ I answered unhesitatingly.
‘It means the lover and the girl are most strongly shown in you! And a mistress
and a queen aren’t active yet. There is still something to work at if you want to
find perfection!’ my aunt smiled.
‘And who were they?’
‘Priestesses of the elements. The woman becomes an embodiment of perfection
only after she finds the power of the four elements. Only woman has ability to
take energy from the world, dissolving in the elements and filling herself with
them; man is deprived such an ability. That is why, since time immemorial, men
have aspired to meet a woman in possession of all the feminine energy in all its
manifestations: sexual, emotional, mental and physical. They wanted a woman to
fill them with their sexual energy, to listen to their doubts and inspired them to
great deed, to give relaxation and care during moments of rest, to decorate their
lives with dance, music, and verse, to admire with them and their deeds.
Through connection with the elements a woman enters into the necessary state,
receiving that energy with which she suffices. But women can take energy from
each other. They find girlfriends on the basis of this principle, gathering to form
the circle of feminine power. Therefore, as a rule, they usually have a circle of
four friends: one of them is sexual, a second is clever and judicious, the third is
emotional, and the fourth is thrifty and practical. Women possess the ability to
strengthen each other if different energies are revealed in them.’
2003
‘Women possess the ability to strengthen each other,’ Antonina explained to us
when we opened our eyes and shared the discovery about the states each of us
had most prevalent in her.
‘What?’ we looked at Antonina puzzled.
‘It explains why women are often friends in groups of four, why there are four of
them in Sex in the City. Everyone bears her own energy and together they
recharge each other. Try to understand which of you is which.
I looked on Aniska and said:
‘Aniska, you are the queen; you are clever, free and independent. It seems to me
that the element of Air prevails in you most of all. And you are so good in talking
with any man.’
Aniska assumed a dignified air and agreed:
‘Yes, I love to rationalize and specially to give clever advice, even when I’m not
asked.’
‘Kisa, you are the lover,’ I continued. ‘You are passionate, temperamental and
spontaneous.’
Kisa reflected for a second.
‘There may be something in what you say. I still need to learn to hide my
impetuous sexuality, or the men first loose their heads and then fly away.’ Kisa
joked sadly.
‘And I’m definitely the mistress!’ said Manechka about herself without a shadow
of a doubt. ‘I have the passion to care about everyone and to feed everyone. And
why do all the men run away from my pies and borsch? I don’t understand. Even
my degree in psychology doesn’t help.’
‘Larka, you are the girl - naive and spontaneous, playful and enthusiastic,’ clear-
headed Aniska had pronounced her verdict on me.
‘Yes, I acknowledge it. But men flip out with boredom after some time with me.
In general, there is no perfection in the world,’ I voiced the unfavourable result.
We became gloomy.
‘So, stand in a circle,’ Antonina ordered, looking on us. ‘We’ll exchange qualities
with each other. Yes, none of us is perfect, but in fact your my great-
grandmother knew that in each woman there all the elements are to be found, it
is simply necessary to waken pre-memory and to help them to be revealed. You
can strengthen each other. To transfer to each other those qualities which each
of you doesn’t have enough of. Stand up!
We stood in a circle.
‘Manechka, stay in the middle of the circle opposite Aniska, put your hands on
the third centre (two fingers above navel) and when you exhale, it is as if you
remove a sphere from there and hand it to her.
Repeat: ‘I share with you practicality, economy and care’.
Aniska goggled and asked:
‘Antonina, what I should do?’
Antonina sighed and began to explain:
‘You, as you breathe in, should take all these qualities in the form of a stream or
a sphere and to draw them into yourself and also to put your palms on your third
centre.’
‘And when to breathe?’
‘It is so complicated with you!’ Antonina complained. ‘When you hold your palms
and feel that Manechka’s qualities go to you, then exhale.’
‘Let’s repeat it once again, in fact while we worked with the theory you didn’t felt
anything.’
Aniska repeated all the movements and became silent, stunned by her own
sensations. Then Manechka turned to Kisa, repeated the same and turned to me.
I felt as if a real stream of practicality and economy had flown into me from her.
‘Is it possible that now I will clean the apartment and wash dishes regularly?’ I
was lost in daydreams.
‘Now it’s Kisa’s turn to share with us the how to be relaxed and passionate, or
else while I make love I will continue to count all household budget in my mind,’
complained Manya. ‘So, Kisa, don’t be greedy and share with us what you have a
lot of, and we have a lack of.’
Antonina nodded agreeing with her and asked Kisa to stay in the centre of the
circle and to do the same, only from the centre of passion: two fingers below
navel.
‘Imagine how, when you breathe in, you take hold of a stream of sexuality and
when you exhale you give it to one of us,’ Antonina advised.
‘Manya, we will begin with you,’ Kisa laughed, ‘so you at last will cease to think of
the household and start to get some pleasure. Catch!’ And Kisa stretched her
palms towards Manechka.
‘I share with you the passion, relaxation and…’ Kisa thought for a second and,
mysteriously smiled, said: ‘the ingenuity.’
Manechka drew Kisa’s sphere to herself and began to make strange grimaces.
We wanted to ask what had happened but Manechka put a finger to her lips,
making us to understand that she would explain everything after.
And then everything was repeated. Kisa turned to Aniska, and then to me. When
Kisa told about ingenuity, I felt my skin crawl and in my head strange sexual
images began to form. And I understood why Manechka made such faces. It is
obvious that she too saw something absolutely indecent.
‘Now is Lara’s turn to share with us spontaneity and enthusiasm!’ Manya ordered.
‘Don’t forget, please, about naivety,’ interjected Aniska. ‘My healthy cynicism
sometimes annoys me so.’
With all my heart I shared spontaneity, enthusiasm and, certainly, at the
requests of my friends, naivety from my intimate centre (in the middle of the
breast). And at last Aniska’s turn came.
‘Well, my friends, what else do you need for happiness? I can offer common
sense, inaccessibility, independence and love of freedom, scepticism and…’
Aniska paused and added ‘What about enormous intellect? Do you want it?’
‘We won’t refuse,’ Kisa responded for all of us. ‘Sometimes it very desirable to
feel clever.
‘Aniska,’ begged Manya, ‘Share at least independence and judiciousness, the rest
we will get ourselves.’
Antonina continued, addressing herself to Aniska:
‘Start up a stream from the centre of the forehead, there, where is the third eye.
Aniska stood in the circle and tried to repeat everything, but it was visible how
difficult it was for her to imagine something that can’t be touched. Nevertheless,
once Aniska finished, we all felt like amazons.
Then we stood in a circle together and simply stood like this, holding hands.
‘In my opinion, it was fine,’ Antonina summed up. ‘What do you think?’
Manechka responded for all of us:
‘I feel in myself the temperament of Kisa, Lara’s spontaneity and Aniska’s
judiciousness. What I will do with all these riches?’ the ever practical Manyashka
asked Antonina.
‘To share with them with a man! Only by filling a man can we receive something
in exchange. But it is important to do it correctly.’
1903
‘In each of these states we exchange energy with a man differently,’ my aunt
continued to explain on the way home. ‘In the state of the lover we give him
energy, and he should return it to us in the form of gifts, money, a social status.
It’s impossible to sleep with a man without receiving something in exchange. It
deprives him of force, and you loose energy. There is a rule of ten percent: all
money invested in a beloved woman, comes back to a man tenfold, allowing him
to grow and prosper.
If you sleep with a man, he should compensate your energy by giving you gifts,
jewellery, money and, most importantly, a position in a society, a position as his
wife, allowing you to pass into the state of a girl. A man becomes a husband and
returns us energy when we are in the state of a girl.
It sometimes happens that you give a man not only feminine energy, but also
just spend your power on him: feed him, take care of him, and make decisions
for him, without demanding anything in exchange. But such self-sacrifice turns
against you because the only man to whom you can devote yourself and give
your all is a son.
If you will behave like this with a husband or a lover, he too will feel the mother
in you, and it’s very dangerous for your relationship. He will respect you, but will
cease to desire you, because it’s impossible to sleep with mother, there are the
interdictions of incest. In this case the man will start to avoid intimate relations
with you.
Maybe you have met such women who bought their husband houses, fed them,
and even put them in beds next to them. And it is no surprise in fact that he will
take a great interest in one whom he can take care of himself. Men like to
sponsor little girls, to buy them gifts, to carry them in their arms, to indulge
them. That is why the state of the girl is very important.
However even the naive girl soon begins to bother, starts to irritate. It’s
impossible to forget about the state of the queen when you are independent and
free. So the man feels that you are one step from leaving him. A woman should
inspire a man, but at the same time to be interesting herself.
So, in the state of the lover you give energy, in the state of the girl you receive
it, in the state of the mistress you give again, in the state of the queen you
receive.
But don’t forget that by giving a man energy, you take a risk. If the man is
married, your energy promotes the prosperity of his family. Thanks to you he
earns more, develops his business, builds the patrimonial nest. And what do you
receive? Nothing.
The long-term state of the lover is very destructive for a woman, it doesn’t
matter if is she married or free. If you are married, your energy goes to
prosperity of another man instead of your husband. So you make the decision
about where to live, in a palace with a husband or in a hovel near to the palace
of the lover.
2003
‘So, where do you prefer to live, in a mansion with a husband or in small flat near
the house of your lover? Realizing that only after you appeared in the life of your
lover did he became so successful that he could build this house for himself. And
now his faithful wife enjoys the arrangement of this house and you suffer with
questions of how to pay the rent on your apartment.’ Antonina watched us,
waiting.
We reflected and remembered our numerous affairs. We should look with a our
new sight at what has once happened to us. Kisa was the first who broke the
silence:
‘By the way, modern men completely provide for their lovers, he buys them an
apartment, and a car, and pay for her studies. So it’s a quite even exchange.’
‘Yes,’ Antonina agreed. ‘From the point of view of the man everything is very fair;
he receives energy and pays for it. But a woman receives only a mirage of
stability, and loses time. While she is young, she bathes in luxury and hopes that
the man will leave his wife. Meanwhile, the man is comfortable, not wishing to
lose what has been created with his first wife, and receiving new impressions and
energy from his lover. But then he disappears, either in the search for new
sources of energy, or he just passes away. A wife still has the inheritance, and
the lover remains with only memoirs and emptiness. And without energy it’s
impossible to attract new love. Everything follows the rules, and their
infringement is severely punished.
‘And if the wife has a lover?’ Manechka asked cautiously.
‘Then her energy goes to that lover, and the husband starts to be pursued by
troubles, financial loss, missed opportunities, etc. She reproaches her husband
without understanding why the lover prospers while her husband becomes
poorer. There are very few women in the world whose energy is enough for
numerous men.
If you know how to take energy from the elements, it’s safe for you to have
lovers, but nevertheless it isn’t necessary to tempt fate! It’s better to become the
one and only of a single man than to spend your time searching for your one and
only!
And Antonina, wishing us good luck, disappeared.
‘And what can I do so that a man understands that I’m the only one?’ Aniska let
the question hang.

To contents

***
Chapter 7. On the stages of relationships

1903
‘Well, my lovely girl!’ my aunt said to me about a week after our return from the
lake. We sat in Berenger's coffee house on Nevsky and drank coffee. ‘At last it’s
time for you to start a more detailed study of those steps which will lead a man
to understanding that you are the only one for him.’
You remember what state attracts a man, forces him to forget about everything
and to lose his head?’
‘A lover!’
‘Correct. Sexual energy draws a man most strongly. He sees it in a passionate
look, in a appealing smile, hears it in a hot whisper, feels it in a burning touch. A
woman always draws a man with the promise of passion, with something sweet
and forbidden.
To make a man see you, it’s necessary his feelings to be carried away, to grasp
him entirely with a smile, a look, a touch, a smell, a taste. To set him on fire. But
to do it, you need to burn yourself.
And your muscles will help you to activate your energy, to kindle your internal
fire.
And now use your muscles, contract them. You kindle heat more strongly than
being wrapped in furs; 10-15 times will be enough. Do you feel, how the fire
blazes inside of you?’
‘Yes!’ I answered with surprise, gripped with the new sensation. I did as my aunt
bid and felt how the heat spread in the pit of my stomach. As if a fire really
began to burn.
‘In your sight there was fire. A man will pay attention to a shine of the eyes and
to expanded pupils which make your look mysterious and ardent. But if you will
enclose erotic imaginations in this look or will repeat the phrase: ‘You are
delightful, I am delightful, love is delightful’ in your mind, the man will be struck
on the spot. The seductive look should last about seven seconds and to attract
dangerous and beautiful adventures. In seven seconds you need to look away as
if unwillingly.
If, after the second look you notice that the man looks at you, smile at him with
a winning smile.
‘A winning smile, my aunt? I don’t know how!’ I interrupted her explanations.
‘Oh, it’s easy! In such a smile the mouth is slightly opened and the corners of lips
are slightly lifted, and in your eyes should be the promise of passion.
‘Then nod to him easily, as if to an old friend, as if allowing him to continue a
game. And then he will decide whether to continue the game or to leave.
‘If he made the decision to leave, don’t be upset, it’s not your loss, there are just
different situations. Maybe yesterday he married the girl of his dreams, or, on
the contrary, left her, or he was just fired from his work. Everything can happen.
‘If the call is accepted he will try to appear near you, to approach more closely or
to pass by you.
‘But it’s important to look on men and not to lower your eyes.’ My aunt inspected
the few patrons of the cafe, but not seeing anyone worthwhile, continued:
‘Varya, try to look at me with such a look and to smile.’
I, trying to remember about the muscles, the phrase and the smile, looked at my
aunt.
‘Well, did I succeed?’
2003
‘So, did I succeed at such a look?’ Aniska was filled with laughter, trying in to
rehearse the necessary look in front of a mirror. Aniska came to me for a visit
and on finding me studying the book ‘How to make a man fall in love with you ",
joined in the process.
‘By the way, the book says that expanded pupils incline a man towards seduction
at once,’ I declared to Aniska, laying on the sofa and thumbing through the book.
‘It certainly sounds very simple but how can I expand my pupils if I don’t have a
bottle of atropine with me? Even if I had, while I will put the drops in my eyes,
the object of my desire would probably disappear,’ objected the practical and
always critical Anisya.
‘And in the diary of my great-grandmother it’s said that to make your pupils
dilate, you need to contract your intimate muscles 20-25 times. So train yourself!
Contract you muscles and imagine love scenes!
While Aniska tried to follow my recommendations, the doorbell rang.
‘Aniska, go and open the door!’ I asked.
My girlfriend opened the door and we saw my old boyfriend from university. I
grew dumb with amazement, and he did the same from look of Aniska. Standing
in the entryway, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.
‘Mishka? How did you find my address?’ I broke the stilted silence.
‘I called your mum! It’s good that her phone number didn’t change!’ answered
Mishka, still looking at Aniska.
‘Misha, this is my girlfriend, Anisya!’ I presented them. ‘Do you want to come in?’
‘No, I am just very glad that I found you! I will call you and explain everything.
But for now I must run!’
And Mishka disappeared as unexpectedly as he appeared. I turned to Aniska.
‘Aniska, did you feel the effect your look had? By the way, you forgot to smile,
nod, approach to him more closely, to say something and touch him,’ I listed the
five stages of acquaintance from the book.
‘Shouldn’t he should approach first?’ quizzed Anysya.
‘If you see that a step towards you isn’t taken, you yourself should appear near
him, at the distance of an extended hand. But the main thing is to say
something, and it’s unimportant what nonsense you utter, the main thing is that
the man hear your voice”,’ I quoted the book.
‘I can’t address an unfamiliar man so easily, without a prepared speech,’
objected Aniska.
‘Well, there are three safe topics: about yourself, about him, about something
happening around the two of you. Well, for example, say something about
yourself: “I lost an earring”, or “It’s raining again”, or, my favourite, “Oh, what
am I doing here?”’
‘Oh, and what am I doing here? Repeated Aniska and said: ‘I’m having a
conversation with myself. I can imagine how silly I look!’
‘Perhaps,’ I agreed and suddenly remembered how only quite recently I run into
Idealnaya Chashka to have a coffee. I stood behind a man on line and the girl
just before us took coffee and the last marzipan cake. I was so upset that I
involuntarily said something aloud. The man in front of me turned back and
sympathized. As I didn’t follow up the conversation everything was finished
before it had even started, and it’s a shame.
1903
‘And what should I say?’ I still was perplexed when my aunt continued on to
explain how to begin a conversation. A well-bred woman expects for the
reference of the man and only then continues the conversation. It was always
difficult for me to imagine how to begin first, especially to say something about
him.
My aunt tried to dispel my doubts.
‘If you are so confused about beginning a conversation you can always ask the
man for a help. Men adore giving advice and to come to your aid, even when
they are not asked, and especially when they are asked. You can pretend that
you have lost you way, you can ask advice about a choice in a shop, eventually,
admire with his tie, his faultless taste, or the smell of his cologne and thus
intrigue him.’
‘To intrigue?’
‘You can say quite innocently: “Any man choosing a tie of such colour possesses
one certain feature’.
‘What feature?’ I asked, involuntarily given to the provocation.
My aunt burst out laughing.
‘Exactly! The man will ask the same thing, and the feature you will think it up
later, just tell the man that it’s a secret and you will tell him another time,
meaning, that you will meet again. Let him suffer a little and think of you. At the
first meeting it’s not necessary to speak for long, no more than 10-15 minutes.
Also it’s not necessary to say anything about yourself, tell him only the most
general information, and the more mysterious, the better; the main thing is to
intrigue the man. But actually it’s not important what you say, but how you say
it.’
‘And how should I speak?’
‘Try to say something, focusing on your womb as if your voice comes from the
depths of your being, feel the low vibrations, and you will be amazed at how
sensual and bewitching it will be.’
‘What tasty coffee,’ I said. It was the first thing that came to my mind.
2003
‘What tasty coffee,’ I said, pushing my voice downwards into my stomach and, as
if from a distance, hearing the low and vibrating voice. A young man sitting at
the next little table in the coffee house heard my voice too.
Listening to my story about the acquaintance which didn’t happen, Aniska
declared that Idealnaya Chashka was the ideal place to build my skills and that I
needed to go there again to learn how to become acquainted with strangers.
Following Aniska’s advice, I ordered a coffee and, seeing a potential admirer at
the next table, began feverishly to try and think up an innocent phrase which
could be said aloud. In three minutes, I turned away from my coffee, I made 20
contractions of my muscles and decided, that it was enough. With my pupils
dilated, I darted a glance at the stranger, caught his eye, and stopped for seven
magic seconds, exuding passion and desperate desire.
I said to myself as if under a spell: ‘I am delightful, you are delightful, sex is
delightful’, I changes the direction of my gaze with a slight smile and pretended
to study the menu. Looking at the text without seeing anything, I remembered
that I had completely forgotten what I should do next, and, thinking of nothing
else to say, simply admired the coffee. This was probably enough. The young
man assumed a dignified air immediately and began to look at me with interest.
Smiling, I back studying the menu intently but the process had begun, and the
young man was already approaching my little table.
‘May I join you?’ he asked almost in the spirit of the 19th century.
‘Sit down,’ I allowed with mercy.
‘And which coffee do you like so much?’
‘Mexican, with spices, carnation, cardamom and chocolate,’ I answered and at
once assumed the offensive, ‘And what do you drink?’
‘Banal espresso,’ my interlocutor was confused for some reason.
‘Why banal? On the contrary. You know scientists recently discovered that men
choosing espresso possess one feature,’ I tried to improvise.
‘And what is that?’ the natural question followed.
‘I will tell you later. Please excuse me, I have to run.’ and I began to gather my
things.
The intrigued young man was not going to surrender so easily.
‘Well, at least there is the occasion for another meeting,’ the stranger smiled.
‘May I write down your phone number?’
‘Yes,’ I allowed and gave him my cell phone number.
‘My name is Konstantin! And yours?
‘Lara,’ I introduced myself and fluttered out of the coffee house, pleased with my
small victory.
1903
I repeated the phrase about coffee fifteen times until I was satisfied with the
results, and looked to my aunt in expectation.
‘The last stage is the touch!’ she continued. ‘A touch helps to run to the spark
which forces the passion to flash.’
My aunt settled herself in an armchair and continued:

And touching him as if casually,

She could start a fire.
So sensual were her caresses,
So hot were her palms!

So people talk about a woman whose touch forces a man to feel the heat in the
pit of the stomach. We already spoke that the state of the lover is born of fire.
And same fire is felt in the touch. You can fill your hands with fire, having sent
energy to the palms from the centre of the womb!’
‘How do I send it?’ I didn’t understand.
‘Imagine that in the centre of your womb is the fire and feel the heat inside. And
now imagine how a fiery stream rises upwards up to the middle of the breast
and, being divided into two streams, goes directly into your hands. You feel that
in the centre of your palms there are fiery balls. You can send these balls to the
centre of a man’s passion; it’s four fingers below the navel, at the top of the
pubic bone. While you listen to his stories, you can already begin to tease him.
There is always a moment when it’s possible to unintentionally touch a man.
Passing by, adjust his tie, drawing his attention to something. But the touch will
be stronger if you will move your hand with an easy sigh. Such touch work
wonders, they “switch on” any man. You can use it in any situation; it looks very
innocent yet at the same time \is very effective.
‘It’s time to go,’ said my aunt and, jumping up from the chair, went towards the
exit. On the way she casually brushed her hand over a back of some gentleman
sitting at a little table. By the time the man had come to his senses, my aunt had
already disappeared behind through the door.
‘It’s time to perfect your skills,’ said my aunt when I finally caught up her.
2003
‘It’s time to perfect my skills,’ I decided, inspired by my success at Idealnaya
Chashka, and went to the next course at the ACADEMY OF THE PRIVATE LIFE,
devoted to touch. The course was conducted a man, at first this confused me,
but then, on the contrary, inspired me. The teacher’s name was Timur, and he
was extraordinarily handsome. The sweet smell of aromatic oils, the soft light of
candles, the transparent organza on the ceiling and a soft white carpet created a
mysterious and very intimate atmosphere. Trembling, I sat down on the carpet to
listen. Taking a white silk scarf, Timur covered his eyes.
‘In the harem there was a game known as “the angel, the girlfriend and the
beloved”,’ he explained. ‘Try to touch my hand from these three states, and I will
try to guess who you represented.’
Slowly and with a sigh I touched his hand and felt a wave of excitement surround
me. Timur must have felt the same because he reddened deeply. Removing the
blindfold, he looked at me closely and said:
‘I can only teach you technique but they are not so important, more important is
to be able to transfer energy with a touch. Were you taught this already?’ he
asked.
‘Yes and no,’ I answered, not wishing to divulge my great-grandmother’s secrets.
‘But technique will be useful too,’ I said, trying to change to more prosaic things.
‘When you start to become acquainted with a man, the first touches should be
very shy and cautious, you touch him with the tips of your tips of fingers as if
studying him while at the same time teasing.
You can feel his pulse and tell that his heart beats more quickly because you are
near. You can touch his heart and, jokingly say: “Am I already here?” It’s good to
learn something about the lines of the palm and, touching his palm, with a
mysterious look, inform him that he has an outstanding success-line or a long
life-line. It’s possible to go up next to him, to stumble and touch him or, to
pretend that you have something in your shoe and ask him to support you while
you remove it. So, shall we try a rehearsal?’ Timur offered.
‘Well,’ I whispered thoughtfully, imperceptibly moving to him and stretching out
my hand as if I wished to touch his chest, but at the last moment drawing back.
Timur automatically continued my movement and in a moment was squeezing
my hand between his warm palms. But he immediately pulled himself together
and burst out laughing:
‘You’ve shown mastery over the method “Do what I wish you to do”.’
‘What did I show?’ I asked surprised.
‘Begin a movement but at the last second unexpectedly interrupt it and then the
man will intuitively continue your movement and will touch you himself. To touch
a woman who he liked is the natural desire of a man. For him to see means to
touch. And the reaction of the woman is very important. If she is quiet, the man
will understand that she doesn’t reject him but if she will shiver and close herself
the man will feel it at once.’ Timur continued the course more easily now,
describing different kinds of massage.
‘Ha!’ I thought, leaving the class and congratulating myself with another small
success. I realized, however, that any role demands rehearsals, even the role of
the femme fatal.

To contents
***
Chapter 8. Any role demands rehearsal

1903
‘Any role demands rehearsals, even the role of a femme fatal,’ my aunt remarked
casually, while walking with me in the park and smiling to all the men who
passed by. ‘I hope, you remember all the stages of acquaintance: the mood for
the state of the mistress, the sight, the smile, the nod, the approach, the touch
and fast disappearance. It’s only necessary to choose the correct image, and you
are ready to meet Mark.
I shuddered unexpectedly. At last Sofia Nikolaevna said that I was ready to meet
Mark. It seemed to me that an eternity had passed, even though in reality it had
been only two months.
‘He has probably already forgotten about me,’ I assumed.
‘It isn’t a bad thing if he has!’ my aunt answered imperturbably. ‘He will see you
as if for the first time!’
It seemed to me that I hadn’t changed, but my aunt thought that I was
mistaken. No, I hadn’t changed externally, but nonetheless some new sparkle
had appeared in my eye and I felt that I had begun to move more assuredly, like
a woman, instead of like a teenager. There was the tremendous feeling that I
shone from the inside. So I was almost ready to come out.
‘Well, my dear girl, soon it will be your own premier in the role of a femme fatal.
Only a week ago I asked my girlfriend princess Golitsyna to invite Mark to a ball.
He confirmed that he would attend.’
‘He couldn’t dare refuse,’ my aunt murmured, ‘such invitations can’t be refused.
Yes, for the ball I ordered for you a charming red dress.’
‘Red?’ I exclaimed. ‘But it’s so bold!’
‘Nonsense,’ my aunt said flatly. ‘Red is the colour of fire, the colour of passion. It
always attracts and will draw the looks of men. I think that red causes certain
reactions in their bodies so, consequently, it has a strong influence. If you wish
to draw attention, red is the colour which must be chosen.’
2003
‘Red is the colour to choose if you want to draw attention’, I decided, when I
came for a tasting of a new wine called ‘Essence’. Konstantin, my new friend
from the coffee house, invited me. The tasting took place at a restaurant with a
tremendous view on the Cathedral of the Spilled Blood.
We tasted the wine and listened to the story of its manufacture. History gave
wine its true taste, not technology. While I reflected on the perception of taste,
Konstantin, most likely, reflected on the perception of colour.
‘Do you know this charming person in the red dress?’ he suddenly asked me.
Considering that we had been sitting at a table and savouring the refined wine
for half an hour, it was quite difficult to understand whom he was talking about.
Obviously he had noticed her while we were all gathered together.
‘It seems to me that we met at some party or other. It would be awkward if I
didn’t remember her name.’
‘No,’ I shook my head, taken aback by such impudence that would allow him to
be with me and to ask about another woman. Apparently business interests came
first with him. I decided then and there that Konstantin would be struck off the
list of possibilities, and once again began to reflected on forcefulness of red. The
strange thing was that I didn’t even notice that there was anyone here in a red
dress, while the man noticed her among all the others immediately. I excused
myself from the rest of the evening, said a cold goodbye, and summed up by
deciding to call Manechka.
‘We must urgently buy red dresses!’ I declared without even saying hello.
‘Red?!’ cried my girlfriend. ‘But only easy women wear red,’ she continued with
indignation.
‘Maybe that’s because they perfectly understand the power of its influence. And,
in general, what puritanical ideas you have! It’s the most fashionable colour of
the season. Yes, just yesterday I read an article that red promotes the production
of phenethylamine, the hormone of desire. Men always pay attention to red, it
draws them like magnet,’ I finished my speech in defence of red.
1903
‘What else draws men’s attention?’ I asked my aunt, observing the elegantly
dressed public which was passing by.
‘Long earrings, high heels, a thin waist and high breasts, a long neck, long legs.’
‘Why should everything be long?’
‘A man searches for a lanky girl with the body of the teenager and the wisdom of
a woman. All the small distinctions we will discuss later when I will tell you about
archetypes. Now it’s important to understand their general expectations.’
‘And how can I create all this?’
‘Illusion, my girl! You need to create illusions. A corset makes the waist thin, and
the breasts splendid. The corset is beautiful, it is feminine. And in a corset it’s
easy to maintain energy. Long earrings visually extend the neck, and high heels
make you taller.
We sat down on a bench. My aunt took my new shoes in her hands.
‘Heels distinguish the noblewoman from the peasant. Heels extend the legs and
give a woman harmonious proportions. A simple woman can afford to be without
heels but a noblewoman can’t, even at home, specially in the presence of a man.’
‘But I feel so unsteady in high heels,’ I complained.
‘It’s necessary to fill your heels! It’s possible to put a man in your heel!’
‘He won’t fit there!’ I protested with an affected horror.
‘Imagine a man standing to the right of you.’
I imagined Mark.
‘And now allow him to become so small so that he can fit in the palm of your
hand, and as you breathe in, grab him and as you breathe out put him into your
heel.
Still holding a shoe in my left hand, I breathed in and with the right, I took the
tiny imaginary Mark and as I exhaled put him in a small house.
‘He will be comfortable and cosy there,’ my aunt said seeing that I looked
doubtfully on the shoe.
2003
"He is comfortable there,’ I felt, observing the behaviour of my client. Usually he
was dissatisfied with the terms of delivery, the prices, the brightness of the
paints. I decided to “fill” the heels of my old shoes and chose him as the most
suitable candidate to check the effect.
It became much easier to walk on heels, and the customer turned into an
obedient boy. After dinner a more difficult meeting with a terrible client was
coming. Customs had delayed delivery of the goods and we broke all the terms of
the contract, but could do a thing. I would have to take all the blame on myself.
Preparing for the meeting and shivering with fear, I thought about arguments in
my defence. There were none, but I found new shoes on the way to the meeting.
Glancing in show-windows and deliberating about the fate of my country and
customs officials, I saw a magnificent pair of red high-heel shoes. ‘If you are
going to die, do it with music,’ I decided, and went into the shop.
I played with the new Cinderella shoes, and suddenly thought: ‘And what if I try
to put our problematic client under the heel?’ Justifying the purchase of such
expensive shoes in the interest of business, I went into the toilet and put Natalia
Vasilevna, who suspected nothing, under the heel. I felt relieved as I moved
towards the thunderstorm. But the thunderstorm never happened.
‘Dear Lara, I’m so glad to see you!’ Natalia Vasilevna was courtesy itself.
‘Customs doesn’t allow your posters through!’ I began my speech with penance.
‘No problem, we decided to move the start of the advertising campaign back a
month so you still have time to get them.’
‘What luck!’ I sincerely exclaimed, feeling a lifting of the death sentence.
‘So we will wait! I hope the quality is worthy of our expectations!’
‘You will like it very much!’ I assured Natalia Vasilevna and run to the office.
Whether the magic techniques worked, or the stars were on my side, on a wave
of joy I decided to buy a red dress to match my shoes.
This must have been the day of red. I found the dress at once, in the first shop.
Laces on the sides of the jacket and the plunging neckline made it madly sexual,
and, looking at myself in the mirror, I felt, that I was ready for any adventure.
1903
‘Are you ready for new adventures?’ my aunt asked me as I looked at myself in
the mirror, trying on the new dress: the red lace, the slippery satin and the open
shoulders. I liked the way I looked very much.
‘And this is a gift from me,’ said my aunt, handing me a box with earrings.
I opened it and gasped: on a graceful platinum branch sat two huge rubies as if
soaring through the air.
‘These are my favourite earrings, given to me by my husband during the
maddest year of our love,’ Sofia Nikolaevna explained. ‘Only jewellery presented
by a man makes you stronger, those which you buy yourself are just beautiful
ornaments. Especially family jewellery, they bear the energy of kinship. They will
help you feel irresistible. A ruby is the stone symbolizing the power of the lover. I
hope that very soon you will receive such a gift from an enamoured men - a huge
ruby with which you will decorate the diadem. For now I will show you an ancient
ritual with a candle, it will help you to be adjusted to the necessary state. With
this state you will set any man alight.
My aunt took me by the hand and led me to her boudoir. Everywhere in the room
lighted red candles were placed.
‘Fire fills us with feminine energy,’ continued my aunt. ‘When fire burns inside a
woman she lights up everything around, and her light draws men.
Take a candle and imagine that its flame joins with your centre of passion (four
fingers below the navel), and, remembering the reference to the element of Fire,
repeat after me.
“Oh, great eternal flame, the spark of life, alive and bright. Be the eternal
companion to my dreams and undertakings. Give me inspiration and insight,
sexuality and heat. Give me the power and authority to subdue the unsubdued,
and to achieve the unachieved”.
As I repeated the words of the ritual, I really felt that I was captured by a fine
premonition in anticipation of passion. It was as if a thousand sparks spread
throughout my body: my eyes began to sparkle, a slightly thick smile touched
my lips, and with a voice hoarse from desire I said:
‘I am ready for my meeting with destiny.’
2003
‘I am ready for my meeting with destiny,’ I said to my reflection, looking in the
mirror and still holding the red candle. The new red dress fit perfectly. After the
ritual with the candle I felt slightly excited and at the same time confident.
Over the last month I had tried to become acquainted everywhere: in cafes, in
the streets, in shops. And if the first acquaintances were difficult for me - I
always forgot about the nod, about the touch, and often couldn’t think what to
say - in a month the quantity of business cards I had was nearly twenty. So
many new opportunities, useful connections, and interesting people!
Finally September came round and the new academic year started at the
business school. I had promised to meet Matvey at the airport and, sat in the
car, all throughout the journey I contracted my intimate muscles. Entering the
airport, I did not remain unnoticed in my red suit, with the reddened cheeks and
moist scarlet lips (lip gloss is a great invention).
When Matvey saw me, the only thing he could say was:
‘Is it really you?’
 1903
‘Is it really you?’ said Mark with amazement, looking at me as if I were a ghost. I
remember the ball as if I was in a fog. When my aunt and I entered into the
shining hall, I saw Mark at once among a crowd of people, and when he didn’t
notice me, I began to panic.
My aunt, sensing my disappointment, said with encouragement:
‘Look at him and enclose in your sight all your expectation, all the languor of
these months. And when he, feeling your attention, will look at you, look away as
if unwillingly and then look at him again, as if confirming: “Yes, yes, I am looking
at you”’.
I looked at Mark, mentally seeing us merged in a passionate kiss. He caught my
sight and became agitated. It seemed he hadn’t yet recognized me. I smiled with
the most charming smile and nodded.
‘And what now? ‘I asked my aunt.
‘Oh, I see friends! Now I will present you to them and, while you talk to them,
continue to throw glances at him.’
I followed my aunt’s advice and, briskly mixing with her friends, sometimes sent
smiles to Mark.
‘I will leave to powder my nose,’ said my aunt when we were alone. ‘Don’t be
bored!’ And she flew away to the toilet. I observed the waltzing couples with
pleasure when I felt someone's presence and thought that Sofia Nikolavena had
returned, I turned around and froze when I saw Mark.
‘Is it really you?’ were the first words I heard. ‘You have changed, but I can’t
understand in what way! I would like to learn more about you. Where I can find
you?
I was almost ready give him my address, but, remembering my aunt’s
instructions, just smiled as an answer.
‘Let it be my small secret,’ I said, being afraid that I would never see Mark again,
that he would see polite refusal in my words. But, as my aunt said, difficulties
just inflame a man, and Mark rushed again to the attack.
‘When I will be allowed to visit you?’
I was silent, thinking about how to answer. I wanted this meeting more than
anything in the world and now stood puzzled, and then I heard voice of my aunt:
‘You must be Mark Golber. My niece has told me of your meetings. I hope your
trip to France was successful.’
‘Yes, thank you. And you must be Varvara Vasilievna’s my aunt!’
‘Yes,’ she smiled,’ Sofia Nikolaevna Illiriyskaya. I will be pleased to invite you for
a cup of coffee.’
‘When?’ Mark asked hasty, obviously pleased.
‘In two days time, at five o’clock! Are you free?’
‘I will be without fail,’ Mark answered with readiness.
‘Then I hope to treat you to a wonderful coffee! You will easily find my home in
Konnogvardeysky Boulevard. Varya, it’s time for us to go!’ and my aunt, having
said goodbye, went towards the exit. I smiled at Mark and followed her.
2003
‘Will you invite me for a coffee?’ Matvey asked innocently. ‘We can drink coffee at
your house,’ as if thinking aloud, he continued. ‘I’m even ready to make it myself
if you have a coffee-press.
‘Yes, it’s a good idea,’ I agreed, freezing inside myself. Why didn’t I have time to
read what I should do next in the diary, instead of rushing to the airport?!
We drove, chatting about exams and our forthcoming studies, and I suffered over
the question whether I should sleep with him or not. I’m already big girl, it’s the
21st century, and it’s silly to continue to play the game ‘I want to, but I can’t’, I
was dying with desire.
We had almost reached my apartment, and I still didn’t know how should I
behave. Therefore I decided to rely on the will of destiny.
Reaching my apartment, Matvey rushed to make us a coffee, and I switched on
some music and searched either for sugar, or cinnamon, or cardamom, or
chocolate, in other words, tried to help him. There was something intimate in this
joint process. We drank coffee with a slight taste of chocolate and different
spices, looking into each other’s eyes, and I felt how the attraction had become
stronger. Not noticing how it happened, I was already held in Matvey’s embrace
with the taste of coffee dissolved in a kiss.
No matter how old you are, the first kiss is always like the beginning of a great
journey to unexplored areas. I waited for him for so long that it was the most
delightful kiss in my life. Thoughts passed through my head: ‘Yes, no, yes, no!’ It
was so difficult not to say ‘yes’!
1903
‘It was so difficult not to say ‘yes’!’ I complained to my aunt as soon as we
entered the street. ‘I was ready to leave with Mark at that very moment, he only
had to call. I had waited so long for this meeting, so long prepared for it and still
I don’t understand why I should torture myself with expectation.
‘Expectation hasn’t killed nobody yet,’ my aunt said philosophically. ‘And
unnecessary haste can destroy everything before it begins.’ We sat in a carriage,
and to the slow clack of the wheels my aunt continued:
‘As you remember, the man searches not for sex, but for the energy which he
receives as a result of sex. You can give yourself to him at once. He will take
away your energy and will disappear, without giving you anything in exchange.
But you don’t know yet if he is worth such a gift. The man should do something
before you will give yourself to him.
Remember, that giving yourself to him at once, you will start down the path of
the lover, and if one moment you will decide that you are ready to marry him, it
will be very difficult to change the lover into a husband - it’s practically
impossible. The state of the lover and the promise of passion help you attract the
man, but after the first meeting you must pass on to the state of inaccessible and
attractive queen immediately, able to constrain his desires. Evasion and
gathering knowledge about the man are the two main tasks during this period.
You operate the world and yourself; you are independent, free yet surrounded by
a retinue of admirers.
Just as the queen with her retinue, so admirers make any woman a star! The
admiration of some men always draws the attention of others.’
‘But I don’t have retinue of admirers!’ I objected with grief.
‘Create the illusion of their presence,’ my aunt shrugged her shoulders. ‘Who said
that admirers had to be real? Imaginary ones will do just as well!’
‘And how to create the illusion of their presence?’
‘On your admirers we will work later, now a more general understanding is
important,’ my aunt said to stop my questions. ‘So, you are a queen! Your
attention costs a lot! As queen’s court expects for an audience as if for the
highest favour, so too should the man wait for meetings with you. Keep him in
suspense! The man should invest time, money, knowledge, and emotion to make
you pay attention to him, and even more for a night with you. He will appreciate
it more if he gets it after such great effort.
For sixteen appointments you evade intimacy, but without rejecting the man. You
burn with passion and desire, just as he does, but something always disturbs you
both: urgent business, the unexpected arrival of visitors… Therefore try to meet
him on neutral territory, at a restaurant, the theatre, or a reception.
I know that when candles burn, music plays and the hint of passion clouds your
judgement, distances becomes shorter, and hearts beat stronger, so it’s difficult
to keep the control! Therefore don’t provoke him or yourself so you won’t live to
regret it later!
‘I will try!’ I said with disappointment. ‘Cold women, not as temperamental as
me, are lucky, they don’t want anything!’
‘But they are not wanted either!’ my aunt cut me short. ‘Time is necessary for
the man to deserve your gift, and time is necessary for you to collect the
necessary information on him. So thank God that something irreparable didn’t
happen and that you didn’t dash away with Mark towards the ruin of all your
hopes.
2003
I thanked both God and my neighbour Anya. When I had already decided to say
‘yes’, someone rang the doorbell. Hearing the call, we jumped apart from each
other and froze, not knowing what to do. Someone rang very persistently, and
the idea that it was possible to remain silent and not open the door, disappeared.
The ringing continued, and I, sighing, went to open the door.
‘I smelled coffee and so I cam,’ my neighbour began to chatter. ‘Did you think up
a new recipe? I could smell it all the way downstairs. I saw your car and decided
that, perhaps, I need to stop by,’ Anya blurted out in one breath.
‘And where is the coffee?’ she said pushing past me into the kitchen where she
saw Matvey. ‘Oh,’ she said surprised, ‘You have a guest?’
‘Yes, this is Matvey; we study together at business school. We just came before
class for a cup of coffee.’ I tried to speak as calmly as possible, without betraying
the emotions which raged within me.
‘Matvey’s coffee is made to a special recipe!’
And, having poured a cup of coffee which was already cold, I went to change my
clothes.
Anya was saying speaking passionately when I returned in fifteen minutes later
with a suitcase in my hands, and Matvey’s eyes glittered suspiciously.
‘I didn’t know that you are such a popular girl,’ Matvey said.
‘What do you mean popular?’ I became puzzled, looking at Anya with a mute
question.
‘I just told to him about your secret admirer who sends you a bouquet of red
tulips every month and calls you, but is afraid to meet you,’ Anya said to excuse
herself.
‘And you don’t even suspect who is he?’ Matvey asked with interest.
‘No!’ I shook my head. ‘But it’s even more interesting to receive flowers and calls
from a stranger! It’s so romantic!’
‘I’m ready to write you letters by e-mail, will it be ok for now?’
‘Well, the intrigue will be gone, I will know that they are from you.’
‘So I will send them from another name!’
‘Spy games! It’s time to go or we’ll be late for our analysis of newest
breakthroughs in the world of finance. I’ll see Anya out!’
Having reached the door and being convinced that Matvey wouldn’t hear us, I
hissed at my neighbour:
‘Why did you tell Matvey about my secret admirer! Now he will think that I’m not
normal, chatting on the phone with some loony!
‘He won’t,’ Anya said confidently. ‘Men are gregarious birds! If one appears all
others will come too! Do you think I didn’t notice how strange and dishevelled
you were when you opened the door? I got into this conversation specially. He
will appreciate you more. Something desired by others always seems sweeter!’
1903
‘Something desired by others always seems sweeter!’ my aunt noticed
thoughtfully when we entered the house. ‘Do you wish to sleep or to discuss the
theme of admirers?’ she asked me.
‘Certainly, to discuss admirers, specially as I don’t have any!’ I answered without
doubt.
‘Yes, before going to bed is the best time to discuss how to tell fairy tales,’ my
aunt smiled craftily.
‘Don’t people tell fairy tales to children?’ I laughed.
‘Oh, men are big children and they also love fairy tales, even more than in
childhood!’
‘And what will we tell fairy tales about?’
‘About admirers, dear, about knights in shining armour which fight for a glance
from you and your smile!’
‘My aunt, I am serious!’ I said with a start.
‘And I too am serious,’ my aunt answered, approaching the fireplace.
In the meantime the servant poured tea for us and brought in some tasty
shortcakes. We sat down and continued the theme which was so exciting for me.
‘Darling, look at this casket!’ My aunt took a graceful box made of Venetian glass
from the mantelpiece. ‘When I was young and travelled across Italy, I spent
wonderful week in Venice. I lived in a small hotel with view on the Grand Canal.
And every evening I went to the Rialto Bridge, dreaming about my other half. On
the last day an Italian gentleman approached and handed me this casket. He said
something, but I didn’t understand. I opened a casket and found some letters
written in Italian. Only after I returned home, did I asked to have these letters
translated and found out that they were written by the owner of hotel. He had
fallen in love with me on the first day of my stay and started to write declarations
of his love. Only on the last day did he dare to ask his servant to give me this
casket.
I listened with silence.
‘It’s so romantic,’ I sighed. ‘What a beautiful story!’
‘Oh!’ my aunt burst out laughing. ‘The men like it too, after they hear this history
they start to look at me through different eyes. In fact, don’t you agree that it’s a
very beautiful fairy tale?’
‘A fairy tale?’ I didn’t understand.
‘Certainly, I bought this box myself, wrote all these letters, and then had them
translated into Italian! I was very proud of myself.’
‘So, we create an illusion of the presence of admirers even if they don’t yet exist,’
I summarized.
‘Exactly, my girl!’ my aunt nodded and continued.
‘For example, you can accidentally tell him about a lovely knickknack which was
sent to you by an admirer, or when invited to supper, apologize and say that
unfortunately this evening you already have plans to spend with old friend who
has begged you for an appointment for a year.’
‘And if nobody begs?’
‘Did I say that it had to be the truth? Just stay in for this evening and enjoy a
book! Loneliness is sometimes useful, so that the hours you will spend together
seem more precious! Then, send yourself flowers from a secret admirer; tell him
about an enthusiastic letter which you received! Use your imagination and you
will think up thousands of variations!’ my aunt finished.
‘And won’t he think that I neglect him?’ I began to doubt again.
‘Not if you emphasize his exclusiveness. But don’t forget to speak with respect
about the other men.’
‘They are so sweet! I just don’t know what to do? As soon as man sees me, he
falls in love immediately!’ I tried to play the role, joining the game.
‘Perfect!’ my aunt complimented me. ‘Men love competitions, so create the
conditions for them! A man should feel that he fights for a prize which is desired
by many. And consequently, having won this prize, he will value it!’
‘And if he will be frightened of the competition?’
‘Perfect! It means he isn’t worthy of you! If he isn’t ready to fight for you in the
beginning of the relationship you need to wonder if he needs you at all.’

To contents

***
Chapter 9. We begin the investigation

2003
‘Does he really like me?’ I asked myself while driving. It was half an hour before
the beginning of class and I just had enough time to reach Repino.
I thought about Anya’s words and decided that there was some truth in them.
Matvey sat next to me and thought of something too, I just hoped that it was not
about my secret affairs. Especially as I was really as innocent as baby.
‘After class I suggest we run to the beach and have a meal!’ Matvey said to me.
‘What do you think?’
‘Great idea! If I have the energy!’ I agreed, absolutely unsure as to how to
behave.
1903
‘How should I behave when we meet?’ was the first thing I asked the next
morning.
We ate the tastiest filled pancakes. Our cook specially didn’t say which pancake
had which filling so every time I took one I became faint with curiosity, what will
be in: meat, cottage cheese, apples or caviar. I didn’t like pancakes with cottage
cheese and when I had one I made a face.
‘And what kind of pancakes does Mark like?’ my aunt asked unexpectedly,
noticing my grimace. I shrugged my shoulders.
‘I don’t know! Should I?’
‘Certainly! You don’t want to be a pancake with an unloved filling! Before
undertaking something, it’s good to investigate what the person loves, what he
doesn’t like at all, you need to learn his preferences in the most different areas!
You have from three to six meetings to collect complete information on him:
what he looks for in a women, what he appreciates in men, his favourite dish and
his favourite animal, what music he likes to listen to, what books he reads. Your
task is to find out about his hidden fantasies and his most courageous dreams.
To learn as much as possible, ask him about the future, then about the past and
only then about the present.
‘Just to ask and to tell nothing about myself?’ I was surprised.
‘For the first three meetings he should tell you all about himself. To present, to
show himself. Therefore listen closely, remember the smallest details, you can
even write them down. When you will become better acquainted, try to learn
delicately about his first kiss, his first love and his experiences connected with
them.’
‘His first love?’ I asked again.
‘The more he tells you, the more his feelings will be enclosed in you. And you will
understand better what kind of woman he is looking for and what qualities he will
appreciate in her. If you decide that you can become such a woman or already fit
his requirements then it’s possible to say a bit about yourself, but only the
information which will show your common tastes and ideas.’
‘And if I don’t like his expectations?’
‘Then you can leave him easily. In fact you didn’t have any intimacy with him and
haven’t yet got used to him. It’s more painful to leave a man when you realise
that you don’t fit each other and you were already close. Don’t amuse yourself
with illusions! It’s better to know as much as possible before the moment you
decide the time has come to go to bed with him.
Yes, and never tell him about your last unsuccessful affairs, romantic adventures
or passions! The longer you will remain silent the more opportunities he will have
to make up information about you himself and to see the woman of his dreams in
you.’
2003
“It’s so difficult to become the woman of someone's dream,’ I reflected, sitting at
a small restaurant on the Gulf of Finland and listening Matvey after class. During
the lecture I had time to thumb through the diary quickly and now, following my
great-grandmother’s advice, decided to cool my ardour a bit and to collect some
useful information. It was the most fascinating pastime. Usually I relied on my
own ideas about what things men find pleasant. But I found that this particular
man liked absolutely unexpected things.
‘You know, when I was small, on winter weekends, our family made pelmeni, put
them in the snow and then ate them for a week,’ said Matvey with nostalgia.
‘So,’ a thought flashed in my head, ‘Manya can teach me how to make the dough
and meat for stuffing, and I have to learn how to make pelmeni. I can if I want!’
‘Can you make pelmeni?’ Matvey asked.
‘Yes!’ I lied confidently, understanding, that over the next five days I wouldn’t
have a chance to show my skill.
‘Fine,’ Matvey said inspired. ‘And when is the nearest tasting?’
‘In the winter! In the autumn they are not so tasty!’ I answered leaving more
time for ritual. ‘And who will you be in five years?’ I changed the conversation
toward a safer theme.
‘Rich and well known,’ Matvey burst out laughing.
‘I am serious!’
‘And I too am serious. I will build a gigantic house with a huge deep-freezer for
pelmeni! I will also arrange pelmeni parties so all my friends can make pelmeni
together, and then eat them in good company.’
‘Yes, pelmeni is the subject of the day! I never thought, that this dish was an
aphrodisiac!’ I smiled.
‘And a strong one! My favourite billboard is the one with woman’s bottom,
slightly powdered with flour, and the slogan ‘My favourite pelmeni’. Siberians
knew what food to like!
I like resilient butts too,’ Matvey made the statement in all seriousness. ‘Specially
Catherine Zeta-Jones’s in THE MASK OF ZORRO.
I didn’t know whether I should be offended or laugh. At least I knew Matvey’s
ideal woman. And realizing that it would be difficult to change from a small red
fox to a deep brunette, I decided that it’s easier to learn how to make pelmeni
and, perhaps, to develop my gluteus muscle. The main thing, of course, was that
I need to listen as much as possible!
1903
‘To listen as much as possible,’ my aunt counselled me before Mark's arrival. She
was very serious for the two days before his visit.
On the morning of the day following the ball my aunt woke me up and, having
treated me to an easy breakfast, reminded me that at the first appointments I
should be in a state of queen.
‘All little girls play princesses, but only a few become queens! To be a queen is a
special state, and you should experience it.’
‘But it’s so difficult for me to be a queen!’ I complained.
‘It is your doubt which prevents it!’ my aunt said simply, ‘Only one’s self-loathing
can change you into a slave, to put you on the ground. You remember the pose
of slave laying on the ground? If you beat yourself up for something you don’t do
very well, if you imagine that you are ugly or stupid, you immediately become
this slave! To rise from the zone of low vibrations of illnesses, poverty and
humiliation to the zone of high vibrations of happiness and prosperity, first of all
you need to stop denigrating yourself!’
‘Go from zero to hero,’ I joked.
‘Exactly! Now, lay down on the floor in the pose of a slave, your right hand
ahead, feel the depth of this insult and make the decision that you will be rid of
it.’
I sprawled on the floor, extending my right hand and feeling all horror of such a
pose. I made the decision to get rid of insult to myself.
‘I’m clever, beautiful, successful and a very diligent schoolgirl,’ I complimented
myself.
‘Now raise up on your left knee and from the right knee cut all chains connecting
you to this state with a cutting movement three times three from right to left.
Now straighten and cut all the chains from the left knee! You are ready to meet
any strokes of bad luck without blaming yourself for it and without taking the
offence on yourself!
Now put on your riding habit. As you breathe in put on boots to protect you from
the zone of dirt (37 cm from the ground) and the zone of pain (height, 72 cm),
then a wide belt closing your bottom centres and keeping you from the zone of
failure (137 cm), finally, sit down on the horse.
The horse is our desire! (this energy can bolt just like a horse, if you aren’t able
to manage it.) The one who can’t bridle it rushes to abyss, while the one who is
able to control it can subdue the world. Such a person will be rewarded with
success in everything!
The height of a horse’s withers is 156 cm; at the same height is the zone of
success. Therefore people say about successful person: “He is on a horse”.
‘And how can I sit on the horse?’
‘The right hand is forward, the left one behind, and as you breathe in, connect
them in the lock between your legs and do eight high jumps.’
2003
Having made eight high jumps, I thought that if someone had glanced into my
room, he would have had a real laugh seeing how at three o'clock in the morning
a decent young lady gallops around the room on an imagined horse. But the
desire that had bubbled up after supper with Matvey had finally calmed down.
It’s good that during the lecture in finance I had time to read through the diary
and to realize that I nearly made a fatal mistake. If to consider each business
course as one meeting, though prolonged for five days, it was just our third
meeting and still too early for sex.
After a supper, having kissed Matvey on the cheek, I tried to escape early
understanding that my power of resistance was already on the edge. Just a few
minutes more and I would end my night in his room.
‘Evasion leads to promotion!’ I repeated the suddenly remembered Japanese
expression. I needed to hold out for only four more days. And why shouldn’t I
feel like a queen, favourably accepting signs of attention and indulging herself in
these days?
1903
‘It’s important to feel like a queen favourably accepting tokens of affection and
allowing indulgence! Also, you shouldn’t aspire to pay any reciprocal favours at
once. It’s necessary to make him feel that just being near you is already enough
pleasure. And he should be ready to do everything for this privilege!
And now it’s a time to get your own pleasure!’ my aunt said, sending me off to a
bath with a jasmine after my jumps.
‘After the bath a massage is waiting for you, and then we will have the
coronation. The crown will give you confidence and will confirm your greatness!
And now take your bath and try to enjoy every moment!’
When the massage ended, I wasn’t convinced that I was ready to engage in any
rituals, but my aunt was uncompromising.
‘You have appointment in three hours and you should shine with beauty. Now
you look like a wet chicken!’
‘Aunt!’ I begged. ‘You sent me for a bath and a massage!’
‘Yes, I did. Now close your eyes and we will travel to your world. The second
centre of feminine nature is in your mouth, your palate is the dome of your
throne hall, a place where you will sit and gain strength! Touch the palate with
your tongue and feel that the darkness gradually dissipates and you appear in
the throne hall. See how the walls are decorated, then how the floor is
decorated. Approach the throne, see what stuff it is made of, and touch it. And
just as we put things in order in the first centre of feminine nature, you should
clean the throne hall. Clean everything, all the long centuries of dust, all
unnecessary and broken things. Having put things in order, approach the
windows and open them, filling the space with light and fresh, cool air. Look from
the last window and admire the royal garden and murmuring fountains. And
feeling yourself light and weightless, flutter out from the window. Fly around the
palace - look at its turrets and ornaments. Travel to that world which you should
rule.
Glance into its most hidden corners, upon its arable lands, in the woods, at its
springs, look at the citizens. Having accepted and grown fond of the world, come
back to the palace. In the palace everything is ready for your coronation.
Everyone wait for you, men on left, women on the right. Solemn music plays as
you enter into the throne room. You feel how your shoulders are covered with a
cloak and you are conducted to the throne. You hear the sounds of prayer, sit
down on the throne and feel a crown placed on your head. You feel its weight
and feel how a sceptre and orb are put into your hands. Henceforth your every
word is law. You feel your authority and power. Henceforth you will decide whom
to execute and whom to pardon! Henceforth you are a queen!
2003
‘Henceforth I am a queen!’ I told myself, having tried to repeat the meditation.
But for some reason I still didn’t feel like a queen! Obviously, my case was been
more desperate than my great-grandmother imagined.
Following the lectures everyone took a break in the bar and discussed things, and
I sat in my room and tried to achieve the state of a queen. In despair I switched
on the TV and froze. They showed an old recording of Alla Pugacheva's song ‘A
King Can Do Anything’. I intuitively began to repeat her gestures - I splayed the
fingers of my right hand into the form of a crown at the back of my head. The
crown appeared to be one-sided, and I, without thinking, put my other hand to
my forehead, also spreading the fingers wide. Inhaling, I changed the position of
my hands, bringing the left hand to the front. But the most interesting thing was
that I actually felt a crown on my head and, proud of my success, went to the
bar. As soon as I went down, Matvey approached to me.
‘You know, I have the strange feeling that you have a crown on your head! I
have probably had too much cognac; I am already seeing things …’
‘Did I really succeed?!’ I exulted silently, but have aloud remarked:
‘Yes, you should drink less!’ Then and there I innocently asked: ‘Do you like
cognac?’
‘I love many things! And what do you love?’
I wanted to say then and there what I loved, how perfectly I cook and what good
taste I have, to brag of my intellect - in short, to crow about all of my merits. But
I bit my tongue. The best I could offer was to praise the taste of cognac (which I
hated) and to keep my mouth shut.
1903
It was very difficult to keep my mouth shut! I wanted to tell to Mark everything
that had happened to me over the past two months.
Mark arrived exactly at five. I was very nervous before this appointment. My aunt
has advised to put on a modest yet graceful dress the colour of a pearl, to
straighten the disobedient ringlets in my hair and to try to remain in the state of
a queen!
‘Varvara Vasilevna! I am glad that we meet again! I had forgotten how beautiful
you are!’ Mark said greeting me.
‘Thanks! I too am pleased to see you aging!’ I answered smiling. ‘My aunt is
waiting for us in the drawing room.’
After a cup of coffee and having talked about this and that, my aunt left us,
complaining of a headache.
We sat sipping coffee for two hours but by the end of our meeting I knew
practically everything about Mark - his favourite dish, his favourite scents,
verses, his hopes and fears. But most importantly, I learned what he wishes to
see in a woman – the colour of her hair, her hairstyle, her fashion, manners and
hobbies. Paradoxically, the more silent I was, the more interested he became. At
the end of our meeting Mark unexpectedly said:
‘I like you very much Varvara Vasilevna!’
‘Many men say it to me,’ I said, looking down, ‘but I trust more what a person
does than what they say.’
‘What should I do so that you believe me?’
‘Something,’ I shrugged my shoulders, ‘so that I will feel that they are not mere
words.’
‘I will do anything you want! Speak!’
‘Even take the moon from the sky?’ I teased.
‘I will try!’ Mark promised.
‘Then I will wait for the moon,’ I smiled. ‘But now it’s time I looked in on my
aunt.’ And I stood, indicating that our meeting had finished. Mark thanked me for
the coffee and left while I went directly to my aunt’s boudoir.
‘So what next?’ I blurted out, hardly having crossed the threshold.

To contents

***
Chapter 10. Night of Love. Preparation

2003
‘So what next?’ Aniska asked, having listened to the entire account of my
meetings with Matvey. ‘Were you a total bitch?’
‘It was awfully difficult. I had to control myself with an iron fist to keep from
sending an email or text, not to agree to an appointment and to not rush off to
Moscow at the first call.
‘Strange!’ murmured Aniska. ‘For me its very easy to torture men … By the way,
tomorrow I am finally going to the cinema with Michael. He invited me two weeks
ago.
‘Which Michael?’ I didn’t understand.
‘Your university friend who I have met at your apartment. We have bumped into
each other recently on the underground and now he calls me almost every day.
What did you say it’s necessary to do on first dates?’ Aniska decided to specify.
‘To collect all the information on his secret faults and his desires, how his mum
expressed her love and so on,’ I said spiritedly.
‘Yes, to make a full investigation’, Aniska noted. ‘And have you found out all
about Matvey?’
‘Perhaps not everything, but he has learned that I have tons of admirers around
the world. I tried to give this information to him.’
‘And what next?’
‘Now I prepare for the final coming out.’
‘What do you mean, “final”?’ she had become interested.
‘A night of love. I think that during the next course in Sweden, it should all
happen!’
‘And what does your great-grandmother recommend? Is it necessary to do
something special on your first night together?’
1903
‘Do I need to do something special on our first night?’ I asked my aunt.
Two months has already passed since our meeting at the theatre. I would have
liked to see Mark every day but my aunt restricted our meetings to two times a
week. We visited all the private-views, premieres, and receptions, but each time
I disappeared after two or three hours. I was already exhausted with passion and
noticed that Mark too trembled in my presence. When we were together, I felt
such a strong attraction between us that I was ready to forget about all my
aunt’s advice and to go wherever he asked.
Therefore my aunt had to give me a good lecturing following every meeting.
‘Passion is stronger than reason and logic. If you wish to burn up everything at
once and then spend your time collecting the ashes of your heart then, of course,
it’s possible not to wait. But if you wish to enjoy long this fire for a long time,
allow it to smoulder. My aunt was extraordinarily serious.
‘He is already in flames,’ I answered. ‘Can’t he burn out?’
‘Sometimes its acceptable. If you wish to remain friends with the man or to make
of him and admirer who only sighs, but who no longer has any hope, then you
can continue to flirt and so on. Eventually it will burn itself out and he will either
leave or turn into an mere admirer. But we are speaking about you now, not
about him. Are you are ready to begin calculating?’
‘Perhaps not!’ I answered. ‘I will certainly try! But I am afraid that as soon as I
see him, all my good intentions will evaporate then and there.’
And here my aunt declared that it was time to pass from the state of the queen
on to the state of the girl.
‘Most of the time you will be in this state. The girl gives the man belief in himself,
shows attention, accepts things as they are, does not criticize, admires his
achievements and is able to appreciate everything he does. Remember, the
queen is attractive, but men marry girls,’ Sofia Nikolaevna reminded and at last
began to explain about first intimacy.
‘So, on your first night. Let’s begin with the colour of your undergarments. If you
wish to appear innocent and virginal put on white or pale yellow. On your first
night you should be sensual, but seem absolutely unskilled.’
‘Unskilled? But I was married for several years. I can’t be unskilled, it’s against
common sense,’ I objected.
‘Perhaps it isn’t common sense, but on the first night you should be an
unsophisticated, naive, unskilled girl. Therefore on the first night it isn’t
necessary to surprise the man you’re your knowledge of all conceivable positions
and French manners.
‘Aunt, I even am blushing!’
‘It’s better to blush now, than then turn pale with shame!’ as usual my aunt
answered simply and continued in the same instructive tone: ‘Allow the man to
teach you even if you already know everything. And in general, ritual makes
perfect! On the first night simply enjoy the man’s company.’
2003
Enjoy the man’s company! It’s easy to say, I thought, as I browsed through the
lingerie shops. It seemed that to buy magnificent pale yellow underwear was
difficult. At last my week of searching was crowned with success, and, having
come tearing home, I tried them on then and there. Admiring on myself in the
mirror, I have recalled the beautiful ritual "Weaving of a Web of Attraction".
Perhaps I read about it in some book, or maybe someone told me about it, but I
wanted to do something special. I have collected objects of feminine power - red
and pink candles symbolizing the element of Fire, a feather symbolizing the
element of Air, pink quartz symbolizing the Earth, and a bowl of water with
several drops of aromatic oil as a symbol of the element of Water.
‘I acknowledge and revere these gifts which I am, and I intertwine with their
force in a magic web of attraction.’ I silently intoned lighting the candles, having
placed them in front of a mirror. Turning on some music, I began to dance
slowly, looking at myself in the mirror and at the reflection of the candles. Taking
a feather and dragging it from top to bottom, I have cleared out all negative
energy. Taking the pink quartz in my hands, I felt how it gave me its energy.
Pink quartz possesses the ability to strengthen feminine energy. Having dipped
my index and middle fingers in the bowl of water, I touched my three basic
centres: the mental centre in the middle of my forehead, the centre of love
between my breasts, and the centre of passion at the base of my stomach. Then
I continued the magic dance and, repeating the words of the ritual, executed
each movement as if spinning a web of attraction.
‘Great stream of passion, fill me with beauty, voluptuousness and sexuality. I am
able to seduce and entice. So it is and so it shall be.’
My eyes have begun to glisten, my cheeks turned pink, and in my changed state
I took a dark red velvet suit from my closet. A narrow dark skirt and vest with
small buttons completed the image, making me irresistible.
1903
‘You are irresistible,’ my aunt said, admiring me.
‘Yes,’ I agreed, still fighting with the small buttons on my dress. ‘Is it really
impossible to reduce the number of buttons?’
‘Every obstacle, even in the form of tiny buttons, only strengthens passion and
desire. And I chose velvet on purpose. Everything the man will touch should be
pleasing.’ My aunt approached and lent a hand. ‘My darling, you are ready for
your date! Only don’t forget the fairy tale about Cinderella!’
‘Why Cinderella?’ I didn’t understand.
‘It very important to disappear in time.’
‘And what is the connection between disappearing and the first night?’
‘Disappearance makes this night special. When the man at last receives what he
has so long desired, time is required for him to understand whether it was really
what he was seeking. Distance strengthens love. If he doesn’t see you, doesn’t
hear from you for about three to ten days, he starts to realize what he can lose.
While you are with the man he doesn’t have time to understand how necessary
you are to him, but as soon as you disappear, he starts to see only the best in
you. And then he rushes to find you.’
Oh yes! If something is vital to the man he becomes very inventive! Therefore
don’t believe obstacles can prevent a man from finding you or amuse yourself
with illusions. As soon as the passion of this night has subsided, leave the man
then and there! Well, I think you are ready!’ and with that my aunt tenderly
pinched my cheek.
2003
‘Am I ready?’ I asked, sitting down in the plane. In my suitcase lay the velvet
suit and the pale yellow set of underwear. Perhaps some take the easy way, but
not me. I decided to arrive in Stockholm two days before the beginning of the
course and to take a walk. At the last minute something prompted me to call
Matvey and to invite him along!
As soon as he picked up the phone, I began to regret that I had gone against all
my great-grandmother’s advice about absence taking the initiative. Yes, the 100
year struggle for the rights of women and freedom of speech were not in vain. To
restrain my own activity was even more difficult than to contain my passion.
At last the plane landed and we met at the airport. I felt like a little girl who had
long been promised a night at the theatre. Finally the moment had come. The
anticipation, the fantasies, and the fear all churned inside me, but on the outside
I just smiled. We gave each other a friendly kiss and chatting about the
upcoming course, began searching for the bus to the city centre.
Some shyness made us acts like teenagers on a first date. From the outside
everything seemed innocent enough as though there were old friends or
colleagues off to a business meeting. Sitting in the a train, we absent-mindedly
thumbed through magazines and were exchanged meaningless phrases about
common friends, the coming exams and business school in general. I had no idea
in which hotel Matvey decided to stay and so I turned to him and asked:
‘And where you will stay?’
‘With you in your room,’ he answered, as if it were the most natural thing in the
world.
I froze and finally realized what sort of game I had begun. But it was too late to
turn back. In the time it took to reach to centre and find the hotel I suffered
many doubts. Having filled out the registration forms, we arrived in our room.
Having thrown me on the bed, Matvey began to kiss me but I, still struggling
with my conscience, jumped up. It’s ironic but the more you wait for something
the more you struggle against its finally happening. Not knowing how to cross
the line that separates longing from intimacy, we looked at each other and went
out for a walk in the city.
1903
We walked through the Petersburg evening, which looked like a watercolour
painting. The transparent air, the graceful buildings and the playful conversation
with no hint of seduction, lent itself to easy flirtation. I reproached myself for my
overactive imagination. Why did I decide that everything should happen at this
meeting?
‘Varvara Vasilevna,’ Mark has addressed me, ‘should we look at St. Petersburg
from a bird’s eye view?
‘Are you suggesting that we take wing?’
‘No, I am suggesting we fly up to the colonnade of St Isaac’s Cathedral and look
at the city.’
‘But the cathedral is already closed!’ I objected.
‘Today is special, and for us the cathedral is opened,’ Mark replied.
We approached the cathedral and, having climbed all two hundred forty-five
steps, at last have reached the top. The watchman really did allow us to enter
without so much as a word. The city lay below us as if on an open palm. I
admired the magnificence of its palaces, its open bridges and the great Neva.
Mark came up behind me and, having hugged me as if protecting me from the
cold, began to kiss me on the neck. His kisses became frantic, and his lips began
to investigate every part of my face.
‘A tremendous view,’ Mark exhaled.
2003
‘A tremendous view,’ said Matvey, after placing an armchair in the middle of the
room opposite a huge picture window overlooking the amazingly mild Stockholm
night which was spread before us as if on the palm of a hand. It was already
midnight when we returned to the room after walking in the old city, taking a
boat ride and having supper at tiny restaurant along the shore of the gulf.
‘Come,’ he called silently. ‘see how beautiful it is.’
As the hotel armchair was small I tried to sit on the armrest, but after a few
seconds slid onto Matvey’s knee. The quiet of the room and the sounds of the
city at night merged with the sound of my heart. I stood waiting while watching
the lights of the city below. As if afraid of frightening me off, Matvey began to
kiss my neck cautiously, slowly reaching my ear and turning me to face him.
With my eyes closed, I melted in his embrace kiss which seemed to go on
forever. Gently lifting me, Matvey carried me to the bed.
1903
Mark gently lifted me in his arms as if showing the city his trophy, and
whispered: ‘Aren’t you cold? Do you want to come back to mine?’ Excited by his
kiss and my desire, I didn’t feel the cold. But all the same we went down and on
to Mark’s.
It was as if I melted in his hands. He was gentle and at the same time
passionate. His lips investigated my body as if he wished to learn all its most
precious secrets. Soon I began shyly to kiss his body, but only his neck and
chest, not going lower as if he really was my first man and I had never gone
further than innocent kisses.
‘My God, you have so much to learn,’ Mark said indulgently at the same time
tenderly kissing me on the forehead as if I were a little girl, and then
passionately biting my lips.
2003
Waves of pleasure flooded my body, and I was overcome by orgasmic
convulsions. At any moment, it seemed to me, anything could happen. His
hands, lips, and fingers created in me something unexpected. At one moment I
lost all sense of reality and my consciousness grew dim as I simply melted in his
hands. Even as Matvey embraced me I couldn’t calm down. And only when my
senses returned did I see that he wasn’t yet ready or that his desire had left him.
Matvey continued to kiss me. ‘Maybe it’s a refined sort of torture’ I thought and
have looked at Matvey quizzically.
‘I have waited too long for you, have desired you for too long,’ Matvey whispered
confusingly.
I could caress his hands, or kiss him or take a handful of ice and revive his
manhood. But these actions would destroy the image of the innocent and
unskilled girl. I simply sighed gently and whispered:
‘What happened? At one moment I ceased to understand what was occurring. I
left somewhere. How did you do it?
Matvey only smiled and hugged me even more strongly.
‘Lovely girl, you are so sensual and spontaneous, I lost my mind gently tugging
my hair, and I, having curled up, thought: "Let happen what will happen. I won’t
do anything." And with that I fell asleep.
1903
I had almost fallen asleep in Mark's arms. The magic evening was almost over.
‘It’s time for me to go home,’ I though. But most of all I would have liked to be
woken up in the morning with his kisses. But its not always necessary to indulge
desires, and my aunt was right: the main thing was ‘to in time disappear.
‘Another fight with your buttons is coming,’ Mark laughed, dressing me. ‘however
now the business will go more quickly, since reason has returned.
‘I liked the loss of reason more! I laughed. ‘It was a magical ritual.’
‘We also conducted a magic ritual. Intimacy with a woman is always magic,’ Mark
answered seriously.
‘With any of them? I burst out.
‘No, but with you, yes!
2003
I was woke at daybreak by a long, gentle kiss. Still half-dreaming, I didn’t
understand where the dream ended and where reality began. But even in such a
dozy state I felt his supple flesh inside of me. My pleasure seemed to be a
continuation of my dream …
‘The first breakfast was delightful! Whispered Matvey. ‘I will shower while you
sleep more.
I rolled over and thought that there was something delightfully satisfying in the
ordinariness of this morning. I heard the sound of the water, the buzz of the
electric razor and smelled of Matvey’s cologne. I wanted every morning to begin
with sunbeams and kisses from my beloved.
‘Get up, sleepyhead, it’s time to have breakfast. Matvey had left the bath
wrapped in a towel around his waist. I am stretched sweetly and walked in to the
bath wearing only my g-string. Matvey playfully slapped me on the ass.
‘An appetizing pelmeni,’ he commented. " Certainly,’ I thought, ‘my special
exercises every morning were not in vain. Perfection isn’t so simply achieved."
And when we went to have breakfast, I suddenly realised that it was imperative
to think up some excuse and leave. A few more days together and the magic will
disappear.
After breakfast I was late and, having called the office, asked them to call me
back in twenty minutes and say that the tax inspectors had arrived and that I
should return urgently.
‘I suggest we go to the royal palace today! Offered Matvey.
‘A wonderful idea! I agreed, and then the phone rang. Making a horrified face, I
said in a faltering voice:
‘I should collect my things. I have to leave urgently.

To contents

***
Chapter 11. A time of doubts. A psychological move

1903
‘Help me collect our things we must leave urgently! Was the first thing my aunt
said when I have returned home after my date with Mark.
‘When? I asked, surprised by such haste.
‘Immediately! Answered my aunt with a tone which wouldn’t stand any
objections. ‘I think we will return in a week. If, when we will return, Mark won’t
be standing at our door, aflame with the desire to see you, that means the period
of doubts has not yet ended or as we will sadly and painfully learn you are not
the woman for him. All of us search for an unattainable ideal, and sometimes
reality disappoints. But it isn’t your fault and not due to any mistakes on your
part, the man simply didn’t find something essential in you. And how was your
first night?’ said my aunt, switching topics. ‘Did Mark justify your expectations?
‘Yes, I reached the heights of ecstasy,’ I answered as seriously as possible.
‘Oh! Such a skilled tempter,’ complemented my aunt.
My aunt hummed.
‘Yes, sometimes the man should be aged to give unforgettable sensations.
‘It’s all so complicated! Can I not even send him a card?’
‘No, dear. After the first night with any man comes a period of doubts, a time of
hesitation. Even more so after such a first night as you have had. Allow him time
to understand with his emotions. It’s better if he doesn’t see you and doesn’t
hear from you. Someone makes a decision quickly enough, someone can’t choose
the unique woman long enough. You only need to wait!
2003
‘You only need to wait!’ I thought, sitting at the airport. Matvey suffered when he
heard about the invented tax authorities, and tried to stop me. But for the first
time in my life, I was unshakable. Certainly it was silly to leave without having
completed the course, now it’s necessary to redo everything, but I hoped that
the game was worth it. We both went back to our own lives and I had absolutely
no clue as to what I would to do next. My great-grandmother’s diary was silent
on the matter of how to behave if people live in two different cities. Before flying
off there was still more than enough time and I have decided visit a bookshop
and to buy something to read on my journey. And what to my surprise did I have
see but the second part of Sherrie Schneider and Ellie Fein’s "The Rules”, with a
chapter devoted to long- distance romances.
"Allow the man to visit your city three times before you will go to his", it said.
Yes, I have already made every possible mistake; I thought and have decided to
follow this wise advice next time. For now I suffered with the question of whether
or not I was necessary to him and whether he was necessary for me?
1903
‘Am I necessary to him, and is he necessary to me,’ I asked myself in some
confusion, having returned to Petersburg after a ten-day absence. Learning that
nobody had asked after me, I couldn’t sleep at night and panicked, accusing
myself of being too easy. Pacing around the room, I was torn between going to
Mark, writing him a letter, or inventing a formal reason to call on him.
‘Only don’t you dare cry. You lose energy. Yes, it is very hard to wait for the man
after he has spent the night with you. But through it’s necessary to go through
this.’ My aunt consoled me as best she could, but noticing that verbal
consolations were little help, has said:
‘It’s necessary for you to find release from the fiery circle of love.’
‘The fiery circle of love? You speak all the time in riddles.’
‘When your thoughts are gripped by a man and you can’t think of anything but
him, you are caught in a fiery circle of love. If can find no way out by yourself,
someone must help you. Go the centre of the room and imagine a flaming circle
around you. Now extend your left hand forward and draw a semicircle around
yourself, imagining that from your hand water falls and extinguishes the fire.
Now extend your right hand and, outlining a semicircle from the right, also put
out the fire. Leave the right leg the circle and say: "My deed is correct". Now
take a step to the right and mentally draw the same circle repeating everything.
Take two steps to the left and repeat the entire ritual.
And now place the man in the ashes of the three circles and he will begin to
suffer doubts and think about you.
2003
Meanwhile I suffered with doubts and thought about Matvey. Two weeks had
passed since the date of my return from Stockholm, and Matvey still hadn’t called
or written. Every morning with a sinking heart I opened my e-mail and, having
read through business letters, disappointedly began the working day. I wanted to
howl, to sob, groan and hit my head against the wall. If not for my great-
grandmother’s diary, I would think up something and write him myself. A
hundred years had passed, and I wanted to believe that times had changed and
that the equality of men and women had arrived. But real life dictated the rules.
All the same, I wanted to understand these rules more clearly and consequently I
called my three girlfriends to sit in on a military council. We decided that flight
analysis was better at combining advantages for the health and at the same time
for doctoring the soul and indulging the body.
Therefore we have gathered at a spa. After steaming and relaxing under strong
hands of brawny young masseurs, we sat in cosy wicker chairs and, sipping
grapefruit juice, started our discussion. Aniska, Manechka and Kisa, having wide
experience of successful and unsuccessful romances, possessed the unique ability
to be able to offer support in difficult times and to give wise advice.
‘Tell us!’ they demanded.
‘Can somebody can explain to me what happened?’ I appealed to my girlfriends,
describing my trip to Stockholm in all its detail. ‘Everything was simply
remarkable, and now I don’t know what to do,’ I finished the story.
‘And what did you expect when you dragged the man to Sweden? Initiative is
always punished,’ Aniska condemned me.
Manechka as the professional psychologist, assumed:
‘There can be something unforeseen, the person can be ill, have an accident, who
knows what can happen, therefore it’s possible to take control and call so as to
be convinced that all is fine. I was told one story. After a night together the man
disappeared and the girl didn’t dare to call first. She suffered because it seemed
to her that it was real love, but she didn’t call. Then, a year later, they met
casually and he told her that had had a car accident and spent a month
unconscious in intensive care and when he work up, he found that his phone had
been stolen, and as he didn’t know her surname, couldn’t find her. Wrapped in a
cast, he prayed that she would find him. He was sure of too, that it was real love.
And when he didn’t get her call, he felt used and betrayed. So sometimes it’s
better to forget your pride and to check whether everything is fine.
‘What a touching story!’ was all I could say.
‘Well, well,’ Aniska took pity. ‘Send him a message, but absolutely neutral like:
“Why do bumblebees fly?” Such a message will cheer him up, remind of you and,
at the same time, won’t oblige him to answer. For men time flows differently.
Work, business, and sports - he will be surprised that so much time has already
passed. And having realized it, will decide that you have taken offence and that if
he doesn’t call, you will go into hysterics. So don’t be afraid and send an SMS.
‘I wouldn’t call or write!’ Kisa said. ‘I can always be found, if he wants. One of my
admirers has found my phone number by calling my parents four years after we
have last saw each other.’
‘It’s remarkable! Only I haven’t understood what to do,’ I murmured absent-
mindedly.
‘Try to relax and enjoy life. Everything will be fine!’ Aniska summed up. ‘Also try
to look satisfied and happy.’
1903
‘Try to look satisfied and happy,’ my aunt told me when two weeks had passed
without a message from Mark. ‘We leave in an hour. Even if at night you sob into
the pillow, in the afternoon your eye should sparkle with anticipation of new
adventures.’
In half an hour I went down, dressed in a gentle pink dress, my aunt looked at
me with curiosity and commented on my image.
‘A correct choice. Tender colours show that you require care and emphasize your
defencelessness. Let’s go walk in the Summer Garden. Today we will work on the
state of the girl.
We left the house and have set off in the direction of the banks of the Neva. As
we went along the English prospect, my aunt has asked me a question:
‘Do you remember when we spoke about the state of the girl?
‘That we spoke, I remember, but only vaguely. I can barely remember what to
say and how to behave.’
‘Well, first of all is passivity. You should not make the first move.’
‘Now, in my opinion, this is exactly what I am doing. I indulge in vain hopes,’ I
complained.
‘And you are correct. Why tempt fate and rush into the storm. I know it is
difficult to do nothing with your mad energy, but now it’s really important. So,
continue to exist in the state of the girl: easy, pleasant, playful, whimsical,
cheerful and at the same time defenceless, innocent, and touching. By looking
upwards at the man from below with admiring eyes, you allow him to feel like a
hero.
We reached the Summer Garden, here the princess turned to me on her heels
and with a crafty smile has asked:
‘Are you ready?
‘For what?’ I didn’t understand.
‘To turn into the girl!
‘Here?
‘And why not now?
I looked back, the Neva slowly flowed, people hastened about their business, and
in general nobody paid attention to two well-dressed ladies. Perhaps only the
sculptures showed some interest.
‘What qualities do you think keep you from feeling like a girl, from returning to
this wonderful state?
I reflected for an instant and answered with the first I thought of:
‘Spontaneity, unpredictability, risibility, ease and …’ looking at my aunt, I added,
‘Slyness.’
‘Well, these qualities are quite enough to start. And now imagine that I am the
mistress of a small magic shop in which there is everything you could desire from
the world.’
‘It’s easy to imagine,’ I smiled and have imagined a darling little shop with white
carved furniture, decorated by peonies in gentle pink vases, huge cardboard
boxes and lace. There were a lot of various knickknacks, very lovely and making
the place cosy. And above everything towered a white case filled with every
possible kind of dress and hat.
‘So,’ my aunt said looking around her imagined possession. ‘what symbolizes
spontaneity? Choose any bagatelle!’
‘A huge pink bow,’ I joined in the game.
As she breathed in, my aunt plucked a bow from thin air and exhaling, handed it
to me. I fastened the imagined bow, not on my head, but on my bosom.
‘It suits you,’ my aunt laughed.’ What embodies unpredictability for you?
I then and there imagined a graceful butterfly made of beads.
‘In your small shop is there a brooch in the form of a beaded butterfly?
‘Certainly!’ my aunt answered, as she inhaled she found the butterfly and
exhaling, attached it to my hair.
‘And what will make you fun loving?
‘Snowflakes!’ I said recalling a children's story. ‘Let it be beads made from
snowflakes,’ I started to dream.’ in my opinion, it’s very nice!
‘Anything is possible!’ my aunt assured me and, having repeated the magic
ritual, placed a string of beads from snowflakes on my neck.
‘And for ease, balloons are necessary. Give me five,’ I continued with
enthusiasm.
Sofia Nikolaevna handed a sheaf of balloons to me.
‘You still have the last purchase to make - slyness. What will make you feel
crafty?’
‘A hat, a charming straw hat with bands.’
‘Oh, I need to look for such a hat in the store rooms,’ my aunt shook her head.
‘Well, what won’t I do for my favourite niece?’ And after inhaling and exhaling
she put the hat on my head. ‘How do you like your purchases? The huge pink
bow symbolizes spontaneity, the butterfly - unexpectedness, the snowflake beads
- risibility, the straw hat - slyness, and the balloons - ease. Feel how all these
qualities fill you, become part of you. Do you see yourself in this outfit?’
‘Yes,’ I answered, and wanting to jump on one leg like a child.
‘If you want to do something, do it, don’t hesitate, there is nobody around,’ my
aunt encouraged me. And really, the Summer Garden had became almost empty,
and, raising my magnificent skirts, I began to jump on one leg on the path.
2003
I jumped through the room on one leg and, being out of breath, switched on the
TV. There was a film from my childhood, the Soviet version of ‘Mary Poppins’,
and when Mary started singing:
Ah, what pleasure,
To know that you are perfection,
To know, that you are the ideal
From your smile to your gesture, it’s above any praise.

I began to dance, taking blue high-heeled shoes from the air, symbolizing
mischief for me; a soft muff, giving me the sensation of softness; a pink dress
with white spots with a bow on the back and some knickers, meaning playfulness
and impudence for me.
The knickers came to my mind when I remembered my school days, when little
girls recited together during school breaks:

Mum sewed me knickers

Of remarkable beauty.
All the boys in the yard said: ‘Please show them to us’,
And why, you big fool,
Don’t you beg me to do it?
I have knickers with polka dots, don’t you know?

I also decided that I didn’t have enough enthusiasm, so, having made two
ridiculous pigtails, I decorated them with roses. I liked myself more like this and
dancing to the music from ‘Mary Poppins’, I felt how all these qualities of the little
girl - mischief, softness, enthusiasm, impudence and cockiness, woke in me. I
felt the shoes, dress, knickers, muff, and ponytails decorated with roses on my
skin. Being out of breath, I flopped on the sofa and, as usual, looked at my
mobile phone. The display showed: ‘One message received’.
‘I was too busy. I had a lot of work. I am thinking of you and miss your gentle
smile. Matvey’.

To contents

***
 Part 3. The acknowledgement of expectation

Chapter 12. The energy of his gifts

1903
‘I missed your gentle smile so much,’ Mark whispered, holding me close.
After two weeks of expectation, when I already reconciled myself to the fact that
Mark had disappeared from my life forever, one evening, while Sofia Nikolaevna
went to visit her friend, I was told about his arrival. I went down to the vestibule.
Mark rushed at me, still wearing his travelling clothes.
‘My God, I’m so glad, that found you at home. I had to go urgently to Moscow on
business, and I didn’t know how to warn you! I wrote a note, but the confused
messenger didn’t find you at home and brought it back, and for these two weeks
it stayed at my place completely forgotten.’ And he rushed to me so promptly
that I involuntarily rushed towards him. Embracing him, I forgot all my doubts
and hesitation immediately.
‘I need to leave. When and where will we meet?’ Mark beseeched me.
Because I didn’t have any idea, I decided that it would be better if he made the
decision.
‘You know St. Petersburg better than I, therefore, I think, you should offer
something interesting.’
Mark reflected for a second and suddenly had an idea which made him shine with
happiness.
‘You know, a new exhibition at the Hermitage has recently opened. I think you
will like it! Are you free tomorrow afternoon?’
‘Yes!’ I answered with a voice ringing with happiness.
2003
‘Yes!’ I answered with a voice ringing with happiness when the mobile phone
rang.
‘It sounds like you are in a good mood today!’ I heard Matvey’s voice say. ‘Did
you receive my message? I’m in St. Petersburg and if you don’t have any other
plans, I’d like to invite you for a coffee.’
‘Ok!’ I felt like schoolgirl who was invited on her first date.
‘Let’s meet at four o’clock at James Cook. They have my favourite almond cakes,’
offered Matvey.
‘Perfect. So long!’ And I hung up the phone. With the same enthusiastic mood
and a heart beating with pleasure I turned round and round in the apartment and
began to prepare.
I wanted to wear something bright and impudent, and I decided that orange
trousers and a pullover with an orange tiger would be in keeping with the theme.
‘The sky is orange, the sun is orange, and I’m orange too,’ I sang a children’s
song, making my lips orange with lipstick. And though it was gloomy and grey
out, I felt excellent.
‘Today you are like the sun!’ was the first thing Matvey said when he saw me.
‘I’m enjoying my life!’ I answered. ‘With what will we spoil ourselves today?’
‘I ordered jasmine tea and an almond cake. What do you want?’
I already opened my mouth to place an order, but suddenly I madly wished that
in this my new state I wouldn’t just be courted, but also allow someone to make
decisions for me, even something as simple as choosing a cake.
‘Today you choose for me. I am overwhelmed by the abundance of tasty things!’
I said unexpectedly, forgetting about emancipation and independence. H looked
at me puzzled, thought for a minute, and offered profiteroles.
I burst out laughing.
‘You read my mind. It’s what I secretly dreamed of, but had absolutely forgotten
what they were called.
‘It’s so easy to make this woman happy!’ laughed Matvey.
1903
‘It’s so easy to make this woman happy!’ Mark said when we left the museum.
The exhibition was remarkable. I didn’t hide my delight and was sincerely
pleased by each minute. I liked Renoir's picture "Two sisters". I came back to it
several times to admired it. And on leaving the museum, we came to the shop.
Mark, without a word, disappeared and while I wandered between he counters
and examined the knickknacks, he returned with a print of the picture which I
liked, a charming box and an umbrella.
‘It’s all for you, darling Varenka!’
‘For me?’ I opened my eyes wider. At this time a whirlwind of ideas started in my
head: whether I should simply accept these gifts or if I were to refuse, whether I
would offend Mark? But then I remembered the state of the girl and with a child's
spontaneity and delight took the gifts
‘How lovely!’ I exclaimed.’ How did you guess that I liked this picture? What a
graceful box! You have excellent taste! And a umbrella … to tell the truth, I
dreamt of an umbrella, but was unable to choose. And this one is very pleasant!’
I thanked him effusively, and while I said all this in a single breath, Mark stood
with a happy, silly smile on his face. It seemed that he felt like a kind wizard, and
this feeling was probably very pleasant. I recalled the words of my aunt: " Gifts
are given to those who are sincerely pleased by them and doesn’t hide the
pleasure ".
2003
" Gifts are given to those who are sincerely pleased by them ",’ I thought, putting
my hands around a bottle of windshield cleaner. Apparently, the role of the girl
was made for me. I tried to not to impose any decisions, to radiate only positive
energy and to be pleased with life. And though the gift had confused me a little
with its practicality, the display of care from Matvey was madly pleasant.
We returned from the cafe. The weather was awful and to windshield dirt from
under wheels was constantly flung. Already approaching the house, I saw that
the liquid for the windshield wipers has run out and that in a few metres I would
cease to see anything. Matvey noticed my absent-mindedness and asked.
‘What’s wrong?
‘I think that the windshield washer fluid has run out, but I don’t know, where to
add more or where to buy it.
‘Stop at the next petrol station, please.’
I stopped, perplexed. What could Matvey need from a garage in St. Petersburg?
After a few minutes Matvey returned with the liquid, and without speaking a word
filled the tank found out under the hood.
And here I stood, hugging the empty bottle to my chest, and melting from the
display of thoughtfulness.
1903
‘Thoughtfulness creates love in a man,’ my aunt summed up when I returned
from the museum loaded with gifts. ‘The more the man does, the more he
becomes attached to you. The main thing is to allow him to show this care. A
man would very much like to accomplish great feats for the sake of the girl, to
feel omnipotent and almighty. But we have so got used to solving all our own
problems, that simply we don’t give him the chance to prove it by rushing to buy
things we like. Sometimes it’s necessary to even create a situation from which he
can rescue us.
‘The knight in shining armour?’ I specified.
‘Why not?’ Sofia Nikolaevna answered easily.’ But most importantly is to
remember to offer your sincere thanks.
‘But what happens if the man doesn’t show he cares, no matter if you appeal for
it and make hints.
‘Yes, in this case there is a remarkable ritual. Sit down comfortably, close the
eyes and imagine that you are sitting on a veranda on a warm summer’s day.
The easy breeze stirs your hair as you sit in a rocking chair and read a book.
Lifting your eyes, you see a little girl not more than five years old enter the gate.
And you recognize yourself. The little girl approaches you, and you rush to her.
You take her in your arms, hug her, pat her on the back, kiss her cheeks, turn
her around and speak about how you strongly love her, that she is the most
beautiful and clever girl in the world.
You tell to her what a remarkable woman she will become - strong, assured,
seductive and charming. You dance and play. And the little girl gives you
playfulness, spontaneity, the skill to be pleased with each instant. And both of
you find what you lacked most of all.
You continue to run and play hide-and-seek, and when she is tired, you swing
her in your arms and see how she starts to shrink, like Alice in Wonderland. She
becomes the size of Thumbelina, already she fits in your hands and continues to
shrink, and becomes so tiny that she turns into a pea. You take this pea and put
it in your heart or in the heart of the person whose care you require.
2003
‘Whose care do you require? And whom you have seen in the meditation?’
Manechka asked me when I opened my eyes.
Manechka was the psychologist, wanted to help me when I decided to try to
apply the ancient techniques. One Sunday evening we found the song "Colour
dreams" from "Mary Poppins," my favourite film, and made a meditation of
inclusion and care.
‘The answer so is obvious that it’s uninteresting,’ I answered. ‘But you know, to
me it seems that to one little meditation isn’t enough, It’s necessary to think up
some situation in which Matvey’s help is really required. Something important
should happen to me, like in love stories and then he will rescue me and he will
be terribly proud of it. Men always fall in love with those whom they have
rescued, with whom they have invested many emotions.
‘And what will that give you?’ Manya was surprised.
‘I think the care gives the man the sensation of being in demand, a feeling of
being needed. And it seems to me that such situations show how the man will
behave with children and during those moments when you really depend on him,’
I continued to argue, ‘for example, when you have a baby.’
‘Maybe you are right!’ Manya said supporting me. ‘One friend told me that when
their child was born and the financial difficulties began, she was nearly dying of
hunger and her husband went to his mum for suppers and breakfasts. I thought
then that it was really impossible to understand how a man will behave. So,’ she
turned to me, ‘what are you going to do?’
I was lost in thought, but nothing came to me.
‘Maybe you could break a leg or to get in an accident?’ Manechka started to offer.
‘No, I think it’s possible to do without such things. Especially from Moscow. No
matter how much you want to help you won’t come tearing along to the rescue
immediately. But the most amazing thing is, I can find a way out of almost any
situation myself. Yes, to find a graceful situation isn’t so easy, so let’s just drink
tea.’
With these words I went to the kitchen to make tea. Lost in thought, I recalled
my student days. I was in my last year of university when I joined the drama
group. I lived in Peterhof then and was always afraid to miss the last train.
During that moment one my friend has suggested that I move into his empty
apartment while he lived at his parents. He solemnly handed over the keys to me
telling me the door code, but forgetting to say how to use it. Once rehearsal went
so late that I decided to spend the night in his apartment. And at two one o'clock
in the morning I appeared in front of the door with the keys. Happy that a warm
sofa was so close, I have typed in the code and, to my horror, understood that
the door wasn’t going to open. I rattled, pulled, prayed at the door, hoping some
neighbour returning home late will enter or leave the building, but in vain I
waited half an hour and the door still didn’t open. I stood in the street and didn’t
know what to do, the last train had left long ago and of course I had no money
for a taxi. The prospect of spending the night in the street became more and
more real.
And when I was ready to burst out crying in despair, on deserted street there
was a lonely young man. I rushed to him and begged him for the help. He too
had tried the ill-starred door, typing the code and pushing, but the door
remained unshakable. Then he lifted his head and, having seen an open window
above the door grasped the little porch cover and in a few minutes had opened
the door from within.
I couldn’t thank him enough and invited my saviour to share the tea that I had
made. The young man was obviously fascinated by his daring and also by me.
Unfortunately, there were no cellular telephones at the time and we didn’t met
again, but I still have a warm feeling when I remember that night.
When I told Manechka the story, she suggested we get stuck in an apartment,
having broken the lock of the door and to beg for rescue, just when there the
next course starts. Maybe the idea wasn’t too original, but at least Matvey would
have the opportunity to show he cares. I liked the idea, though it brought up
many organisational problems.
‘And so do you understand exactly how to behave with a man during this period
when you have already given your body to him, but his heart is yet to be
offered?’ Manechka asked me thoughtfully.
‘To do everything emotionally: to be capricious, to not show up for appointments,
to pout without reason and at the same time to be pleased, like a child, with his
attention and to show him attention, to wait for him to make decisions, to
consider him the best, to admire him sincerely, in a word, to rely on him and to
trust in his dedication,’ I rattled off in a single breath.
Manechka stared at me in mute amazement and said:
‘And the man won’t run away if you will rain all of this down on him?
‘I will find out!’

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***
Chapter 13. And let him be your saviour

1903
‘It’s time to see how keen Mark is and if he is ready to come tearing along to
your aid on the first call!’ Sofia Nikolaevna declared. But be ready to end all
relations if it doesn’t justify your expectations.
‘And isn’t that too severe?’ I did not want to break that fragile sense of happiness
which I had found at last.
‘Sometimes it’s better to risk something by refusing something then to receive
nothing at all.’ My aunt remained silent a moment and then her eyes began to
glitter and she declared:
‘Tomorrow you will leave for Moscow, but, my dear, you should miss the train.
You will leave the train at one of the stops to take a breath of fresh air and won’t
notice it leaving without you. You will do everything you can and send a telegram
to Mark with an entreaty for help!’ she turned to me smiling craftily. ‘You won’t
drag an elderly woman to the middle of nowhere to rescue you. So, dear, pack,
but try to not take anything especially valuable. Nobody can be assured that you
will have them returned.
‘But is it good to deceive him?’ I asked my aunt. I was still not ready to pretend,
to invent and play.
‘My darling, illusion decorates our lives! Most people are afraid of boredom,
especially men. You don’t deceive; you create illusions, like an artist, a writer, or
director, just not on the stage, not in books, not on a canvas, but in reality. You
create a life filled with events, instead of observing what occurs.
I did not share my aunt’s enthusiasm, but resolved that a small adventure always
inspires. Even if Mark doesn’t rescue me, I will still learn something about myself.
A small test never harmed anyone. Having calmed myself, I went to pack my
things. I had barely finished preparing a small travel case when the maid has
announced Mark's arrival.
When I went down, Sofia Nikolaevna and Mark were already talking and drinking
tea.
‘Varenka!’ my aunt called out.’ I was just telling Mark about your sudden decision
to go to Moscow to visit a girlfriend.
Mark looked at me in surprised but asked only when I would leave and when I
would return.
‘The train leave s tonight. Tomorrow morning I will be in Moscow. I will return in
three days! I have received a letter only today from my girlfriend and understood
how much I missed her. We haven’t see one another since leaving from Smolny.’
I justified the decision, at the same time being amazed by my own imagination.
‘Well, I wish you a pleasant journey! I will wait to hear your new impressions! I
will spare you, if you don’t object!’ and Mark continued to discuss mutual friends
with Sofia Nikolaevna. I went to change clothes and take my suitcase.
 2003
Having changed clothes after work and quickly packing a suitcase for the course,
I tried to plan my schedule. For some reason on Fridays and always before my
business courses a heap of work appeared. As I missed Monday and Tuesday it
was necessary to finish everything today. I needed to be in time at the airport to
collect Matvey and Marinka and to try to be on time for the first lecture. Today
the course was led by any important professor from Sweden and consequently
everyone was asked to not be late. As if in spite, since the snowfall this morning,
the road to Repino was very bad. And though the plane arrived in five in evening,
and the lecture began at seven, I was worried.
There was still an hour before the plane arrived and I rushed from through the
apartment at dangerous speed, searching for things. Once I had found
everything I have remembered that I had promised the neighbour to give her
some film for her camera. I grabbed the canisters and rushed off to Anka’s. She
opened the door herself, as she was late to the gym. Delighted with the
cartridges, she kissed me on the cheek and also dashed off.
With a feeling of duty fulfilled in perfect kindness I have ran across the floor and
was already out the door when I realized in horror that I had forgotten the key in
the apartment and the door, naturally, had slammed shut behind me. I rushed to
the next landing in my t-shirt and jeans not knowing what to do. I sat down on
the stair and burst out crying from my own stupidity, from being so weak that I
was already late for everything and had no idea what to do next. It’s a good
thing that I always take with my mobile with me. Still sobbing, I have dialled
Matvey, praying that the plane had already landed.
‘Matvey Winner,’ the quiet voice at once inspired hope of rescue.
I tried to explain clearly what had happened, and to warn him that I couldn’t
meet them.
‘Stop sobbing. I will take a taxi and in half an hour I will be with you, and
Marinka will go at once to Repino and warn them that we will be late.
I calmed down at once and suddenly remembered, how sceptically I had treated
Manya’s idea to break a lock and get stuck inside. In fact it would have been
much nicer to sit in a warm apartment than in a freezing cold hallway. While I sat
lost in thought, a half an hour must have passed. At last the front door slammed
open and Matvey appeared. He kissed me and, having slapped the little girl on
the bottom for playing pranks, began to assess the situation.
‘Did you leave a window open on the balcony is?’ he has asked me.
‘Even if it’s open, how will you ever get up to the second floor?
‘Let’s go have a look from the street. I think we’ll find a way out of this,’ Matvey
offered. We stood in the street but it looked rather hopeless. The was been
opened, but is was too high, and the trees were too far away to be of any use. I
looked balefully up at windows of the apartment but didn’t see how we could
manage, while Matvey feverishly tried to think something up.
‘You know, it’s possible to simply call for help,’ suddenly an idea had dawned on
Matvey. I was amazed at how such an obvious solution hadn’t come to me.
Matvey, having made the decision, at once set to work. He began to call for help,
to first find the phone number for the emergency services, then to call
emergency services and at last, with after speaking to the switchboard operator
declared that we would be rescued within the hour. We looked at each other and
kissed like mad. I don’t know whether finding a solution after going through all
our emotions played a part, but the kisses were never sweeter.
‘When I have heard your sobbing voice I began to imagine terrible things, that
you were sitting here frozen, frightened, and forlorn,’ whispered Matvey. I was
thrilled with his words and was glad that he didn’t begin to chide me for my
stupidity and nonsense.
‘I tortured the poor taxi driver with demands that he go faster!
1903
‘I tortured the poor carriage driver with demands that he go faster!’ Mark
whispered to me, embracing me and pressing himself into me. The train stood in
the middle of a wood near Sablino, somewhere between St. Petersburg and
Moscow. Seeing me off to Moscow, Mark was so gentle and cautious and so upset
that I was leaving that I decided to not follow my aunts advice and to escape
from the train. Rocked back and forth on a train, I fell into a sweet sleep. I was
woken in the middle of night by the train remaining stationary for a long time.
Frightened that something awful had happened I rushed to the conductor barely
dressed.
‘Nothing terribly, simply a tree down on the tracks. They promised to remove it,
but nobody knows when. Luckily, the engineer noticed in time and we didn’t have
a real accident.’ The conductor was quiet, there was nothing to do in this
situation.
‘Young lady, we will most likely be stuck here for quite a long time, everyone has
sent couriers to back to St. Petersburg or on to Moscow to those expecting them.
From whom would you like to ask help?’ the conductor looked at me
sympathetically, expecting an answer.
"Here too I have got myself into a real mess,’ I reflected. ‘Destiny is wiser than
we are, and still it’s necessary for Mark to rescue me ". I wrote a note entreating
him to help and finishing the address, handed it to the courier. It was necessary
to wait. Sighing, I went to my compartment and decided lose myself in sleep. I
was woken by a knock at the door. To my amazement I saw it was Mark!
‘How did you us so quickly?’ was all I could say.
‘I hurried!’ and with that Mark began to kiss me then and there. Our bodies
intertwined and I understood how unforgettable the an atmosphere a night train
compartment creates …
In an hour, after collecting my things we were already leaving the compartment.
All at once I nestled against Mark, thanking him for rescuing me.
‘I knew that you would come. You know, I trust you even more than fate!’ and
though my words sounded a bit pathetic to my own ears, it was clear that Mark
was flattered.
2003
Staring at me following my pathetic words: "Remind me that it’s not possible to
understand men, only to trust them", Matvey began to tell his dream of
constructing a huge country house after creating a Russian network of delivery
companies for restaurants with even greater enthusiasm. By opening my
apartment it was as if the dam of mistrust between us had broken and,
obviously, my confidence in him now included every possible situation.
Throughout the five days of the course I listened to his grandiose plans while
trying to imagine all these warehouses and offices already set up and working
successfully.
‘When I tell you about it, I start to believe in the reality of these mad plans.’
Matvey smiled. We drank coffee in a bar, and, listening to him, I saw everything
he described clearly in my imagination. If I didn’t like any particular idea I didn’t
object, I simply remained blank.
I remember hearing something on a course about granting the man space: "Men
operate, and the woman creates the field of action". Sometimes it’s difficult for a
woman to explain why this or that project is doomed to failure, she simply feels it
without being able to prove anything logically. In such cases the best she can do
is to close the space. It’s very simple. You need only listen to the man blankly
and he will feel hopeless about the business. But if the woman trusts her sixth
sense and speaks of what the man dreams of quite vitally it is doomed to
success. His rich imagination will draw iridescent pictures of the future, and even
more courageously than the man can admit. If the man says that he wishes to
open a restaurant, dreaming of an international chain, we inspire the man give
his inspiration wings. And now I had a fine opportunity to see if it worked
‘When I look into your eyes, It’s as if see what you are saying!’ Matvey was so
inspired by my attention and my belief in him, that all his grand projects were
quite real and achievable, that I suddenly understood that the thing that no man
ever has enough of is belief in his own power.

To contents

***
Chapter 14. Belief in the man is the key to his heart

1903
‘Belief in the man is the key to his heart!’ my aunt said solemnly when I told her
how Mark saved me from the train. We sat in the Berenger and Woolf
confectionery shop on Nevsky Prospekt and, treating ourselves to a cream puff,
observed the people on the street.
‘Look, you can distinguish at once the man who others believed in, from the man
deprived of such belief,’ my aunt followed a man with lowered shoulders with her
eyes.
‘And how do they differ?’ I was confused.
‘The one in whom a women believes is as if filled with this belief: his shoulders
are erect, his head is held aloft, his eyes are wide open, and his movements are
quiet. Look, do you see a lot of such men around?’ she asked me.
‘I always thought that successful men look like this,’ I said thoughtfully.
‘You are right, but only those we believe in achieve success,’ my aunt cut me off.
The most important thing for any of them is your belief in them and your trust,’
she continued. ‘All of his projects, all of his deeds should be supported by you
with sincere belief in his ability to complete them. There should be no doubts
about his ingenuity and talent!
‘Even if I feel that an absolute failure and crash is inevitable?’ I asked.
‘If you trust in the man, even that which may seem a hopeless business at first
sight can succeed! Only your blind belief gives him the force and energy to
achieve everything, as silly as it may seem to them. And even if something will
go wrong because of some objective and unforeseen reasons, the man can deal
with it somehow, but he will never forgive your disbelief in him. Your belief gives
him wings, but your doubts chain his hands. You must show this same belief in
him in your personal relations, belief that he loves only you and is faithful to you
even if everything tells you it’s not true! Even if he didn’t come home to spend
the night.
‘But it would be silly after finding him with another woman to pretend that
nothing happened!’ I was indignant.
‘It’s wise! With your belief in his innocence you will disarm him and at the same
time show a belief in yourself, your confidence. You show that you know that it’s
impossible to eclipse you or to replace you. Yes, other women will try to take him
because you chose the best man but as long as you believe in both him and also
in yourself, they are doomed to failure.
Belief inspires and supports and it is the man’s primary emotional necessity,’
Sofia Nikolaevna said finishing her ardent speech.
I looked thoughtfully at the men passing by and saw that there were very few of
those who were believed in.
‘And how can we show, that we trust the man and in all his mad projects?’ I
wanted precise instructions. But my aunt didn’t have time to answer; a tall man
with long blonde hair gathered in a ponytail entered the cafe. Though his
shoulders were lowered, one could see in him former success. I thought that he
looked like an artist, and he saw Sofia Nikolaevna and rushed directly to us.
‘I’m glad to see you, Sofia Nikolaevna! It's been ages since we met!’ The young
man exclaimed joyfully and, turning to me presented himself: ‘Alexander
Barteev, architect.’
‘Varvara Vasilievna!’ I answered smiling softly.
‘What luck that we have met, Alexander Viktorovich!’ my aunt looked at me with
a warning and addressed to the architect: ‘We were just discussing with Varvara
Vasilievna the project of her new house and whom to invite to construct it. I
heard that you finished a summer residence in Sestroretsk for colonel Ognev. I’m
dying with impatience to see your creation. Everything you do is simply genius,’
the princess said enthusiastically.
‘Oh, Sofia Nikolaevna, you flatter me,’ Alexander Viktorovich was confused.
‘And can we see this summer residence?’ I lighted up. I was madly curious for
me to look at Barteev’s work, though the idea of the construction of my house
stunned me too, but, obviously, my aunt had some plan.
‘I will be very pleased! Is it convenient for you to come this Sunday? We can take
a walk by the gulf too,’ the architect invited us kindly.
I exchanged a glance with Sofia Nikolaevna and we nodded simultaneously.
‘Then I will fetch you at midday next Sunday.’ Alexander looked at his watch and
left with an apology for his haste.
‘What did tell him about the house?’ I attacked Sofia Nikolaevna. ‘I’m not going
to build anything!’
‘Not yet, perhaps. I just want you to have opportunity to chat with him and at
the same time to learn how to give belief to a man. He was very well known
architect once, but there was a unpleasant case during the building of a private
residence for one very foolish and rich woman. When the architect was out, the
supplier brought rotten wood for the beams and the workers had already started
to use it when the owner’s manager came. It was huge scandal, and many
turned away from the talented architect even though it was no fault of his. She
was just in love with him, and he refused her.
But the most awful thing was that Barteev’s wife who was used to success and
the worship of society, left him too,’ my aunt told. ‘Now he requires support as
never before, as well as belief that he can overcome everything and become a
successful man again.’
‘But what will Mark think and why do I need Barteev now, I’m not going to flirt
with him at all,’ I tried to object.
‘Don’t flirt, but enjoy his company and chat with him!’ my aunt corrected me.
‘You will inspire his belief, you will help him, just think of it as charity, a kind
deed. And also, my dear, every man needs some competition, and if you will
concentrate all your attention on Mark he will be bored. He should see and feel
that many like you, though belong only to him.
At the same time you should show or, if it’s impossible for you, to create the
illusion that a man too can like many others, but that you know he is faithful to
you alone. This is a demonstration of belief in him too, when you show that you
can’t even imagine that if the man is late or didn’t come to spend the night, it
means that he spends time with another woman. No, with all your deeds you
should show that you understand that there are different situations, but
understanding that it’s impossible to find anyone better than you doesn’t allow
you to show even the smallest doubt in his fidelity. You should trust in his
infallibility and show it in every possible way.
‘What nonsense!’ I was sincerely indignant. ‘Even if I have proof that he really
cheated on me?’
‘Especially if he cheated! If you want to lose him for certain, you can kick up a
row, but if you want to win and to earn his love as a prize, you have to
understand what thing in you forced him to cheat! A man leaves not for someone
else but because of you!’
2003
‘A man leaves not for someone else but because of you!’ this refrain sounded in
my head. I woke up during the night because on the other side of the wall was
talking and making love. This time everything somehow went criss-cross. Almost
half a year of study at business school had passed and all this time I lived from
course to course, from one meeting with Matvey to another… It seemed to me
that the last course changed our relations, that we had become closer, but,
obviously, I was under some illusions. ‘Broken illusions pave the road to new
opportunities’.
These past two months I had had too much work and only wrote letters to
Matvey from time to time. One moment I began to write more about myself, my
feelings, my plans, and this didn’t correspond to the state of a girl whose
attention is completely captivated by the man at all. And, as one would expect,
his answers became more self-restrained and dry. I tried to find justifications for
Matvey, that, perhaps, he works too much, that time flows differently for a man.
But the facts were obstinate, though I persistently refused to believe in them. I
hoped very much that when we would meet next everything would change.
As always, I met Marinka and Matvey at the airport on Friday, and we had a
lovely chat on the way to our suburban boarding house. The Stockholm School of
Economy had decided to try the course in a new place and changed from our
habitual and homey Baltiets. While we were searching for this new place we
became so hungry that we decided that Matvey and I would buy some buy food.
We sat in the car together but somehow the conversation did not flow. Matvey
drove while I sat and tormented myself with the question of what had happened.
Finally we reached a shop and after we bought fruit, sweets and other stuff, went
back. I noticed a small cosy restaurant on the road with a lightened turret and
pointed it out to Matvey, hoping secretly that he would invite me for supper.
‘Yes, that restaurant is really lovely,’ Matvey agreed, ‘but we have hungry friends
waiting for us.’
In consolation he made a shy attempt to kiss me, that I regarded as mockery
because Matvey didn’t even try to stop the car. But I hoped that after we’d
arrived at the boarding house, everything would change.
Blindness on behalf of our educational secretary had lodged us in neighbouring
rooms this time. Wishing him a good night, I waited secretly for an invitation
from Matvey to stay in his room or an offer that he stay with me.
Therefore I laughed when he attempted to give me some grapes and chocolate
and said, that if I were hungry I would come for meal even at night.
Matvey smiled and, kissing me on the cheek, wished me good night. I light a
candle and filled two glasses with cognac like a naïve little fool. I heard Matvey’s
footsteps behind the door and imagined how he would take some grapes and,
knocking on my door, ask whether I am dying with famine and need to be fed.
But my expectations were vain. I rushed about my room trying to read
something, to watch TV, to go over some materials from the course, but nothing
helped. At last, exhausted by expectation, I dozed off. And instantly woke,
hearing another voice and familiar sounds on the other side of the wall. I ran
across my room like a wounded animal with the pain of infidelity and a burning
desire to know who Matvey was with, drove me mad. I poured a glass of water
and put it against the wall, hoping to hear who had taken my place in his room. I
wanted to rush in and make a scandal.
In few minutes I realized that if I stayed in my room a minute longer I would
simply go crazy. Not having thought of anything better, I dialled Gleb’s phone
number, who studied in our group and flirted with me. Grasping the bottle of
cognac, I rushed off in his room. Gleb, seeing me choked with sobbing, tried to
be polite, which is difficult at four in the morning. He refused the cognac gently.
Being burnt with shame, I dragged myself back to my room. ‘Besides Matvey
cheating on me, I have destroyed my slight flirtation with Gleb,’ I reproached
myself. It was almost five a.m., and everything was quiet on the other side of the
wall - either the guest had already left, or was sleeping in Matvey’s embrace.
Until seven a.m. I reviewed our romance in my head, hoping to understand what
had happened. I remembered Tsvetaeva’s words: ‘It’s the lament of women of all
times, my darling, what did I do to wrong you?’, and tried to create some way to
behave. According to my great-grandmother’s diary, I needed to show that
nothing had happened, but it was as painful as if my heart was cut into pieces
and I doubted whether I would have enough power to pretend that I knew
nothing. Switching on the TV at the highest volume, I put myself in order and,
smiling, went into the corridor where I immediately met Matvey leaving his room.
Smiling with a radiant smile, he welcomed me as if nothing happened.
‘Good morning, how did you sleep?’
‘You could have had the best, but I hope you enjoyed what you got,’ I answered
mysteriously and angrily with the first words which came to my mind. With this I
broke all my great-grandmother’s instructions. At breakfast I sat down at another
table in a pointed manner and, chatting about some nonsense with the girls,
went to the classroom. Everyone noticed my pale face and asked with sympathy
what had happened to me. I tried to laugh as if nothing was wrong and peered at
the familiar faces, endeavouring to understand who the other woman was. Gleb
didn’t joke with me as usual and this upset me even more. ‘In the end,’ I
thought, ‘it isn’t important who I was cheated on with.’ And then Kira entered.
Small, with a short boyish hairstyle, acute brown eyes, she proudly bore a
plateful of green grapes. The grapes which I chose with Matvey in the shop…
Her every step hammered a nail into my soul. I couldn’t even imagine that it
could be so painful. I was ready to beat my head against the wall, to tear out my
hair, and all of this seemed to me not neither silly nor far-fetched, but quite
natural and necessary. I listened to the lectures half asleep and muttered
something muffled when answering questions about whether or not I was ill.
Hardly waiting for the end of the lectures, I rushed to the car and drove home.
The security guard in the parking lot was frightened that in such a state I would
get into an accident, tried to dissuade me from a the trip. But I, like an animal
covered with wounds, drove home to lick my wounds in private.
The fact that I didn’t get in an accident was mere luck, tears dimmed my eyes,
and the only thing wanted was that somebody would released me from this pain.
1903
‘Release me from this pain!’ I shouted to my aunt, calming down and beginning
to sob again. It was a long time I had sobbed so much. Obviously, Mark was
really able to cause strong emotions. It was in such a state that I returned from
Sestroretsk resort.
Preparing for the date, I didn’t assume that anything could spoil the
cloudlessness of the weather and serenity of my mood. The sun is a rare
phenomenon in St. Petersburg, and the city seemed especially beautiful. The
architect kindly fetched me, and we were enjoying the sun in an open carriage on
the way to Sestroretsk.
‘The most awful thing in this unpleasant story with my client is that my wife
declared that I was not capable for anything and will never succeed again. I
wanted support, wanted to believe that despite of these troubles, I would
withstand and become even stronger, but meanwhile scandals waited for me
every evening at home,’ Alexander said.
‘What helped you to go through all of this and begin to believe in success again?’
I asked with interest.
Alexander looked at me closely and smiled.
‘Another woman!’
‘Another woman?’ I asked again.
‘Yes, one fine day I came into that confectioner's shop where we met, and there
saw a charming creature. She had just bought cakes for her mistress. I liked her
smile so much and the sensation of ease in her that even knowing we are from
absolutely different worlds I gave her advice on what dessert to choose. She took
it with pleasure, and in few minutes of conversation with her I realized that the
clouds had been dispatched and all my failures with them.
‘And you began to date her?’ I was carried away with Alexander's story.
‘Yes, but they were innocent meetings. I told her about my life, about myself.
She was completely uneducated, simple, but there was some feminine wisdom in
her. When I told her about the accident she simply looked at me and said that
anything can happen and that, certainly, I will overcome and be even stronger,
that I would achieve greater success. The most amazing thing is that she
managed to return to me a belief in myself. She extolled my talent, my mind, my
business qualities so sincerely that I gradually began to believe in them’
Alexander's voice became warmer.
‘And then what happened?’ Are you still together?’
‘Unfortunately, no. Thanks to her I found new commissions and new clients. I
was ready to marry her despite of the difference in our social status. My former
wife for all her fine upbringing, refined manners, and magnificent appearance,
was so far from this girl. But the girl appeared to be wiser than me, she said that
my life didn’t attract her, that she wants a simple, calm life, and she
disappeared. But I still hope that one day she will bring me cakes, will curl up on
my knees, and will listen to my dreams, and to believe that they will all be
realised!’
I thought of Alexander and this girl and understood how important it is for the
man to hear that we believe in him, especially when he has difficulties. The one
who gives words of support always eclipses the one who criticizes even if it’s
justified. Reminding the man of his failure, we deprive him of his last power.
Even if he is a very self-assured person, he is also under the influence of the
woman’s words, they possess so much power. Even if we ourselves often don’t
pay attention to them.
With our conversations the time flew by, and as we approached the summer
residence which was almost finished. The house was constructed in the
fashionable art-deco style and looked so refined that I really did want him to
build me a house.
It was almost time for lunch and Alexander invited me to a meal on the shore of
the gulf. We continued to chat and enjoy the sun when I heard a joyful greeting,
and, turning back, saw the daughter of one of Sofia Nikolaevna's friends. She
was about ten years younger than me, with huge azure eyes, a turned up nose
and light curls. The charming smile and beautiful blue dress completed her
appearance.
‘Varya, I’m so glad to see you!’ Nastya chirped.
I introduced Alexander, who invited her to join us. We discussed the art-deco
style, ballet premiers at the Mariinsky theatre, my beloved aunt. Nastya flirted
with Alexander and everyone enjoyed the sun. Alexander was called by one of his
friends. Apologizing, he left. Nastya bent to me and, looking with her huge eyes,
whispered:
‘Varya, I need your advice!’
I smiled approvingly and showed my readiness to listen.
‘I have an admirer,’ Nastya informed me with anxiety.
‘Why that’s wonderful,’ I smiled.
‘Perhaps. He has showered me with enthusiastic letters and bouquets during the
last month, invited me to go with him to the theatre or receptions and I don’t
know how to behave.’ Nastya said in a single breath, looking at me expectantly.
‘And what do your parents say?’ I asked, interested.
‘They consider Mr. Golber as a remarkable match for me.’
‘Mark?’ I asked feeling the ice build inside me.
‘Yes, but he is old, almost forty years old,’ Nastya wrinkled her nose.
‘Mark should hear what an eighteen-year girl says about him’ I thought angrily,
but to her just said:
‘But he can teach you a lot.’ I tried to be impartial and quiet though inside I
seethed with insult and indignation.
‘What, for example?’ Nastya became interested.
‘To flirt, manners, the skill of communicating with people!’ I listed Mark's
advantages, trying not to show my feelings.
‘Do you think I need to be acquainted with him more closely?’ Nastya was lost in
thought.
‘Nastya, that you must decide yourself!’ I was ready to burst out crying and tried
to finish the conversation gently. Alexander approached us just in time, and we
started preparing for our return to the city.
Saying that I was tired, I remained silent all the way back.

Upon entering the house I rushed to my room and started to sob. I cried and
shouted at my aunt that she should do something.
‘I feel like I have stake in my chest,’ I shouted, sobbing. ‘Why did he sleep with
me, gave me all these gifts and compliments, and at the same time dream about
young Nastya?’
‘Get up, dry your tears and repeat after me.’ Sofia Nikolaevna looked at me
strictly. ‘Stop sobbing, the world didn’t end. Mark behaves like the typical lady's
man; he acts on all fronts at once so you shouldn’t amuse yourself with illusions
that you are only one. You need to fight instead of hoping that everything will
happen by itself! Now you will be released from the pain and insult, and then we
will discuss what to do next.’
My aunt stood opposite me and, holding her elbows in her hands, showed that
everything was good: the thumb upward, the other fingers in a fist.
‘So, everything was fine and now you decide that you were offended. You lower
your fingers downwards: with insult energy is lost, and you fall to the ground.
Loss of energy leads to illnesses and poverty. All sensitive people, as a rule, are
very poor and sick. You make the decision that you will get rid of the insult and
pain. You pass around your feet with your thumbs three times and finish at the
point on the internal side of the leg from the external side from bone and as if
drawing, you lift the thumbs along the legs up to your knees. You draw from
inside to outside three circles around your knees and you continue to move your
thumbs on the internal side of your thighs to the bosom. You connect your
fingers above the clitoris and you draw the letter “V”, drawing the fingers to your
ribs. The woman who doesn’t take offence always wins; she doesn’t waste time
or energy on small offences. From the ribs you conduct your fingers to a point in
the middle of your chest.’
‘Similar to the shape of diamonds,’ I noticed.
‘Yes, with diamonds a lady is eternally young.’ My aunt was serious. ‘Insults age
a woman and cause illness. You can’t afford to destroy yourself just because you
decided to take offence.’
‘I didn’t decide, I was really offended and in pain.’
I burst out crying again. My aunt waited a little, and we began to repeat all over
again.
‘So, now your thumbs rest against the centre of the chest. Take a deep breath,
imagine a stake in your chest and exhaling say “A-S-S-A” with shout and pull it
out. Throw out your insult!
The first time it was not so simple for me to shout, the sound caught in my
throat. But finally I became really angry with my naivety, as well as with Mark
and Nastya, and at last shouted ‘A-S-S-A’, pulling the insult and the pain out of
my chest, and I felt easier after this.
2003
I felt easier after repeating of the ritual of cleansing insults. I decided that there
is a good chance to be released from all the insults at once. Insults stick in our
body and take our energy. Insults from people, insults from the world, and
insults from ourselves… Tears don’t solve the problem, you need to act. I had
plenty of books devoted to relations, but whichever of them I opened, I always
opened to descriptions of how insults destroy all relationships and the person
itself.
Understanding that I was not yet released from the insult, I found the techniques
to remove them in my great-grandmother’s diary. In fact I had really abused
myself for being so naïve and for the fact that I trusted Matvey too much, that
ceasing to play, I behaved wrongly myself, etc. - typical thoughts in such
situations. I lay down on the floor in the pose of a slave: my right hand forward,
my left drawn in. The insult to yourself is the strongest of insults, it takes power
from us, and it leaves us in the dirt. We lose self-respect, turning from the
master of the situation into the servant, from the leader into the led. So I lay
there, bemoaning my feebleness, Matvey’s, Kira’s impudence though she didn’t
deserve to be blamed for anything.
And I made the decision that from now I would control the world and create
situations instead of waiting for the favours of nature. I made the decision to be
released from my insults. Rising on my left knee, with three movements I cut the
bindings of uncertainty, doubt and insult from my right knee. Repeating this
movement three times, I did the same with my left knee. Feeling that I was
released, I inhaled and pulled my legs into a pair of imaginary boots rescuing
myself from the dirt, and put on a belt protecting the lower centres from the
influence of other people, and, most importantly, epaulets symbolizing the limits
of the responsibility and the ability to control the world and its events. I suddenly
understood that if I wanted to control someone, I need to do what they wanted.
To contents

***
Chapter 15. Recognition and attention - This is what he wants

1903
‘To do what others want, and in that way to control them?’ I was genuinely
confused and indignantly added: ‘Let him hang. He betrays me, and I should
forgive everything?’
‘We are not speaking about a pardon, but about management. When you take
offence, you lose your authority. Sometimes it’s more necessary to retreat than
to win. But the victory depends on the information you have about your
opponent, about his weaknesses and strengths, and most importantly, what he
wants.’ sometimes Sofia Nikolaevna was very severe and unshakable in her
convictions.
‘What the man wants, as well?’ I reconciled myself to listening.
‘Men want recognition and attention at all times. The attention is so simple that
it’s complex. For the man, attention is a concrete action when the woman does
something that is pleasant or of value to him. This is the expression of care that
he loves. Attention to details is the key to a man's heart, and by giving the man
what he wants, you receive what you are waiting for!’
‘And how do I discover what Mark wants?’
‘By asking questions.’
‘I ask, but I don’t receive an answer, he hides everything very carefully.’ I was
absolutely furious and at the same time indignant. ‘Why should I do all the work
when he isn’t willing to put in any effort? If he’s indifferent to me, let him hang!
‘Yes, you are right! To wait is always easier, it is easier to do nothing and evade
the responsibility for his attitudes. But the one who doesn’t take the
responsibility receives nothing but leftovers from the table. If you are ready to be
content with what remains then sit and wait, but don’t sob that loneliness is your
destiny,’ my aunt chided.
I moaned and resolved that to struggle was a necessity right to the end, come
what may. And again I addressed my aunt:
‘And what should I do if Mark doesn’t speak, where is the pleasure in it?
‘Observe and listen to what he says about others, remember that it’s a pleasure
for him than to be admired. Collect information. By the way, I completely forgot
that have been invited to a dinner and a performance at Mikhailovs' in Pavlovsk
tomorrow. Every summer they hold a dinner devoted to the first jam of the
season and put on a remarkable vaudeville show. And there will be dances in the
evening. It’s possible to go to Pavlovsk station, to the concert hall there where
the young people gather. Furthermore, it’s important to be seen, to show oneself
and to see the others.’ Sofia Nikolaevna smiled, ordering me to bed so that I
would be well rested for tomorrow's trip. And when I had already climbed to the
second floor on leaving me alone in my room, she added indifferently that Mark
would be there too.
In the morning I opened my eyes to the bright light of the sun. The day promised
to be wonderful. A comfortable peach coloured muslin dress with bare shoulders
and a deep, low neck improved my mood even further. After an leisurely
breakfast and the purchase of some small gifts for or hosts we set off for
Pavlovsk.
The magnificent summer residence of the Mikhailovs' amazed me with its spirit of
joy. And though Peter Mikhailov was a famous lawyer and one of the richest
people of city, an easy atmosphere reigned in the house. Children, dogs, and
servants all rushed about. Anya, the Mikhailovs' eldest daughter, and her
university friends prepared their pantomime. Here someone was just finishing
painting the scenery while there someone else put the finishing touches on a
costume. I joined in the general commotion with pleasure and didn’t noticed that
Mark had arrived. We greeted each other warmly. I wished very much to pretend
as if his meeting with Nastya was unknown to me but at the last minute couldn’t
control myself and snapped:
‘Mark, I have decided to organize a club of those to whom you give your love.
There are already people interested in joining. Nastya, for one, is ready to join!’ I
looked at him defiantly.
‘But I would like that this club had only one member – you!’ and Mark kissed me
on the nose. I burst out laughing, having thought myself artful at obtaining the
answer I sought. At that moment dinner was announced. We had a cold beetroot
soup, fresh salads from the vegetables grown in the kitchen garden and an
absolutely glorious rhubarb jam. It was all so tasty that I couldn’t resist asking
who had made it.
Peter Dmitrievich quickened and began to extol the virtues of his wife, who had
herself made the jam though the household kept a cook. The other guests picked
up on the theme and began to argue whether or not one should cook and if it
depended on the income of family. There was now an opportunity to buy simply
everything and about the presence in the house of a cook. Mark joined in the
general conversation, adding that the jam prepared by hands of the beloved was
not only tastier but also symbolized her loving care, her desire to make to
everything sweet. At these words my aunt looked at me and has smiled
mysteriously, but as we were called in to watch the show our hosts had
prepared, I couldn’t begin to guess what her mysterious smile meant.
The show put on by the young men was naive, and the actors sometimes forgot
their lines, but everyone sincerely enjoyed themselves. Finally, with smiles all
around, we began to gather for a concert at Pavlovsk station. We went to the
station and Mark, holding me by the hand, talked about theatre and vaudevilles.
I listened closely, agreeing in the necessary places and though still suffering my
jealousy of Nastya, tried to be easy and cheerful. At the station an elegant
society, flirting youth, and fine music greeted us. We arrived after the concert
had ended and the hall already was prepared for dancing. Gathered impatiently
in expectation of the dances to come, everyone met old friends and discussed the
latest gossip. My aunt had disappeared somewhere, having whispered to Mark
that it has got my home in an integrity and safety and all our new friends were
also lost in the crowd. We were finally alone and drawn to each other.
When the music started, Mark and I began to waltz. He masterfully and gently
conducted me and I was delighted because it was possible to give myself
completely to his authority and to melt in his embrace. We danced so well that
we received a prize as the most beautiful pair and though the prize was clearly
symbolic, Mark shone with pride. At last the long day ended and we climbed onto
in a train. I was so tired that after just a few minutes have fell into a dream.
Trustingly I lay my head on Mark’s shoulder, and dozed off. Mark carefully
guarded my dreams until St. Petersburg. I woke up as we approached the city
and understood, that I passionately wanted to go to Mark’s, instead of home.
‘Varya, I think that Sofia Nikolaevna won’t be very upset if you arrive tomorrow
morning. We will tell her that we missed the last train.’ Mark entreated me.
‘You think my aunt won’t worry?’ I didn’t know whether to accept his offer or
whether to torment him by refusing. But something inside told me that if we
were to simply part now at the peak of this desire I would miss something very
important. And then Nastya would take hold of his ideas and feeling.
‘My aunt is a wise woman. I think she will understand, especially since you are
with a free woman who was already married. I very much wish to spend the
night with you.’
2003
‘I wish to spend this night with you,’ Matvey whispered when we arrived at his
apartment. We were celebrating his birthday. I struggled for a long time over
whether or not to buy him a gift, and if I did, what? Perhaps to arrange a holiday.
The girlfriends with whom I tried to consult, spoke as one, saying that after his
change it was silly to continue the game, that I should to show him attention
and, even more, go to Moscow and arrange a birthday surprise. I argued, and
then agreed with them. As we studied in the same business school, we would
meet all the same.

I suddenly started having doubts that Kira would be at Matvey’s birthday and
that I would look a complete fool. Matvey being born in the autumn gave me the
chance once and for all to change, or to put an end to our relationship. Why to
not make this something he would remember the rest of his life? Then I decided
that which gives pleasure and shows attention is never silly and if I didn’t regard
the display of affection as a humiliation it wouldn’t be seen as one.
I became inspired and decided to an arrange a n unforgettable birthday, having
remembered my great-grandmother’s advice. But the most difficult thing was to
discover a person’s expectations, instead of just appreciating his imagining. The
first option was impractical, and I abused myself for having already forgotten
what Matvey likes. Calling his friend, I tried to get a clearer picture. Igor
remembered only a cognac and a limousine that Matvey loved - things refined
and expensive. Therefore I decided to begin with the choice of his gift. I
remembered that Matvey liked the Impressionists, but didn’t remember which
painter exactly. So I wrote him a letter saying that I would like to give him a gift,
but that I didn’t remember his favourite artist. Matvey answered at once.
I stood facing a shop front in awe of the designer’s imagination who had
transferred Monet's canvases onto every conceivable objects - clocks, plates,
boxes, candlesticks and vases and even a reproduction on porcelain.
After conferring with the saleswoman for half an hour, I decided to phone Matvey
and to ask what would please him more.
‘Anything that you choose will be a treasured!’ Matvey answered and began to
tell me about his new projects and more of his grand plans.
Listening to Matvey, I continued to look in the shop window, trying to make a
decision. The saleswoman, giving up on me, was now taking care of other
shoppers. Half an hour later I started begging.
‘Matvey, I am still facing the shop window and I still don’t know what to choose!’
‘My best gift is you!’ Matvey answered.
‘If you invite me, I will come!’ I tried to joke, but Matvey, having thought a little
how it was said that it was a remarkable idea and that he was waiting for me.
Twenty minutes later and it was as if I had fallen asleep standing there, listening
Matvey and examining a the things in the window. When at last Matvey made to
say goodbye, I made one last attempt to get an answer from him of what to pick.
‘If you will choose a clock, I will see it and count the minutes to our next
meeting; if you choose a candlestick, I will wait for the moment when we can be
together in candlelight; if you will buy a plate I will use it to prepare something
for you; if you offer me a picture, every time I see it I will think of you.’
After such words I wanted to buy up the whole shop, but I was restricted to
clocks and candlesticks. So, the bought, the invitation to his birthday received, it
was now necessary to imagine what sort of surprise to arrange.
November 7th came round very quickly and I arrived in Moscow. His birthday
was to be celebrated at a restaurant at seven one o'clock that evening, and I had
the whole day ahead of me put into myself the order. Directly from the night
train I arrived at Marinka’s and, having overslept three hours, wasn’t even late to
the salon. Marinka had made an appointment for me with her hairdresser and
make-up person. After three hours of pampering a sexual siren looked back at
me from the mirror. My disobedient red hair was slightly tinted and straightened.
My eyes began to seem huge and my red lips completed the effect. I tried to
protest against the red nail varnish, but the stylist insisted that this last stroke
was absolutely necessary. A strict black corset and a narrow skirt transformed
me into the embodiment of sexuality. I was terribly happy with myself, but the
stylist obviously wanted to add something. Suddenly she lit up and brought out
an adhesive tattoo with rhinestones in the form of a sparkling flower and has
placed it on my left breast. Whenever I took a breath, the flower became more
visible, and when I exhaled, it disappeared under the corset; this show was
probably very bewitching. With my black openwork stockings and a lacy belt I felt
irresistible.

I was ready both to triumph and to defeat. When I approached the restaurant by
taxi, I almost gathered a crowd. When I entered the room all eyes were on me, I
eclipsed everything. The men in the room felt this fire and twisted around me.
There were some of our friends from business school (thank God, Kira was not
among them) and Matvey’s partners, clients and employees.
‘Matvey, there is a surprise waiting for you at eleven this evening. I think your
guests will forgive your disappearance,’ I said mysteriously, approaching Matvey
and kissing him on the cheek.
‘A surprise?’ Matvey was obviously intrigued. ‘I hope, it’s not dangerous.’
‘No,’ I laughed.
The party was a smash, a fine show in honour of Matvey, the meal was delicious
with lots of sparkling wine, toasts and dancing. I started to worry more and more
as of the appointed hour approached. Matvey’s curiosity, on the contrary, grew.
The party was in a full swing when at eleven on the dot the porter entered and to
tell me that the limousine was waiting. Everyone have silent with amazement. I
approached Matvey and have declared that, according to American tradition, on
birthdays the man leaves in a limousine for a night tour of the city. The guests
can just continue enjoying themselves and enjoy life. Matvey was obviously both
pleased and a bit confused. Someone tried to keep us there but I whispered to
Matvey that the surprise he expected was inside the limousine and it wasn’t
possible to take anyone along. Matvey laughed the matter off and went along
with me to the limousine. Inside of the magnificent white car quiet music played
and there was champagne and Matvey’s favourite cognac.
We sat in the car and, looking into each other’s eyes, drank to his birthday. The
driver had put up the partition separating the interior, and we have remained
alone. Music played, the city at night was beautiful, and we were drawn to each
other.
‘Today is your day,’ I whispered to Matvey,’ I will do everything myself. You
simply enjoy.
I unbuttoned his shirt after removing his tie and started to kiss and nip at his
chest. Matvey closed his eyes and shivered in pleasure. Gradually my kisses
became hotter and more passionate and we gave ourselves over to the moment
completely…
The limousine stopped and the driver delicately knocked on the partition, asking
where we would like to go next, having finished the planned tour. Matvey gave
the address of his apartment and has said that would like to spend the night with
me. I thanked Marinka for helping me to realize my mad idea with the limousine.
When we entered Matvey’s apartment, he turned to me and has whispered.
‘Thank you. No one has ever given themselves to me before. It is the best gift
ever!
1903
It is the best gift anyone has ever given me!’ Mark said, holding a jar of jam I
had made in his hands.

When I returned to my aunt’s house after that wonderful day and to tried tell her
the story about missing the train, Sofia Nikolaevna only smiled indulgently.
‘My dear girl, fairy tales you will tell in other places. And now change clothes so
we can go to the market.’
‘What for?’ I was puzzled, as my aunt almost never went to the market.
‘To buy berries for jam making, of course!’ said my aunt.
‘What jam? We have a cellar full? Who will cook it, can’t Marusya go to the
market and buy the berries?’ I still was perplexed.
‘You only recently asked how you could learn what is important for Mark, and
were distressed that he didn’t answer your questions. Now, when he has at last
told you, you haven’t even heard him,’ Sofia Nikolaevna was indignant, walking
around me.
‘To spend the night with a man doesn’t take a great intellect mind but to hear
what he is waiting for is where great powers of observation are necessary.’ My
aunt, having noticed that I was nearly in tears, softened.
‘Yesterday, at the Mikhailovs’ dinner do you recall the conversation about jam
and how yours beloved Mark has noticed that jam made by the beloved embodies
for him all their attention? So change clothes quickly, we will go to the market to
buy berries.’ My aunt was resolute.
‘And why can’t we take a jar from the cellar and say that I have made it?’ I
asked. The prospect of jam making still frightened me.
‘Don’t be silly. When you choose the berries and make the jam yourself, it bears
your vibrations; it will be filled with your energy and will connect you at the
subtlest level. Jam made without love is dead, and it’s especially felt by the man
to whom you aren’t indifferent.’
We went to the Kuznechniy market and plunged into an atmosphere of
bargaining shop assistants and fighting cooks. In the beginning I became puzzled
by the abundance of things on offer, but then saw some Ukrainian cherries and
my heart has skipped a bit. Even though my hands were folded, they wanted
most to make jam from this fruit. Having bought four containers worth, we
proudly marched home and asked Marusya to instruct me.
‘Oh my dear young lady, why do you want suffer? I can ever so quickly and
easily make my aunt ordered her to calm down and help to me to make the jam.
This procedure wasn’t very difficult and in four hours time I was proudly
displaying the results of my efforts. My aunt complemented me, but said that
when the jam has cooled down I should take each jar in my hands and fill the
jam with energy.
‘In the past when it came time to choose a bride, a young man would go into the
village and asks those girls ready to be married give him some water. The one
from whose hands the water seemed most sweet became his bride. All the water
was taken from the same well, but the taste varied depending on the energy of
the person who offered the water. Therefore, before you will give something to
your beloved, take it in your hands and fill with the energy,’ Sofia Nikolaevna told
me.
I followed her advice and have taken each jar of jam in my hands saying: "Jam,
be filled with my energy, my love, and my tenderness ". Though it seemed to me
nonsense, I dutifully conducted the ritual with all the jars. My aunt, seeing my
scepticism did not give me the last jar and ordered me to try the jam. I ate a
spoonful,
‘Tastes like jam, sweet and fragrant,’ I commented.
‘And now open that jar which you took in your hands and taste the difference,’
insisted my aunt. Still smiling, I tried it and, to my amazement, really did taste a
difference. That jam with which I filled with the energy was alive, as if the fruit
hadn’t been cook and was only covered in sugar.
‘And when should I take him this jam?’ I asked Sofia Nikolaevna.
‘I think that in five days, on the weekend,’ reflected my aunt. ‘the effect will be
even stronger.’
On Saturday I packed three jars of jam and went to visit Mark.
‘A small gift for you,’ I have informed him, barely having crossed the threshold.
‘Now you can enjoy the taste of jam which I have welded for you in your winter
tea.’ I said, stretching out the package with the jars full of jam.
‘I will taste it now!’ said Mark dragging me into the dining room.
‘You made it,’ Mark asked in amazement, ‘for me? It’s incredibly delicious. Just
like you!’ It was clear that he was touched and delighted.
‘You know, you have given me so many dear and valuable gifts, but no gift could
deliver so much pleasure, as this.
‘We will enjoy it together on long winter evenings,’ I tried to joke.
And only after we sat down to drink tea and to taste my jam that a note was
brought to the door. Mark, having read it through, said that he was compelled to
leave immediately.
‘Something urgent? Urgent matters? I asked with sympathy.
‘Yes, Nastya, one of the daughters of my good friend, needs my help! The poor
girl has become absolutely confused with her papers.’
I nearly choked with indignation. I didn’t see anything so urgent as necessitate
throwing me out to rush off somewhere, only to help with some trifling business.

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***
Chapter 16. Do you accept it or not?

2003
I didn’t see anything urgent or pressing that should make him leave me and rush
off somewhere. I sat at the airport and silently seething inside. How dare Matvey
depart so urgently to Siberia and his ex-wife just to help her with moving house
after several mad days together which could otherwise would still continue?
Former wives possess an improbable sensitivity. And they appear during
moments when they feel that their man, even a former one, has something
serious happening. They think up improbable excuses to pull him to themselves.
Even if she left him herself, the idea that someone else could be happy with him
or that he might become happy is often intolerable for them.
The three days following Matvey’s birthday passed in an instant. We wandered
across Moscow, investigating new small restaurants and amusing exhibitions. The
feeling of flight and easy euphoria didn’t leave us. Matvey was gentle and
cautious. So it was all the more painful and offensive when his ex-wife appeared
to be more important to him than me and our romance. Revolted and annoyed, I
changed my ticket and arrived in St. Petersburg two days earlier than planned.
After returning I immediately called my girlfriends and gathered them for another
military council. We all approached my house simultaneously. Throwing down my
suitcase and making tea, I rushed around the apartment.
‘Is it normal?’ I paced the drawing room still not boiling mad. ‘Can you imagine?
As soon as his ex-wife called, he left me then and there rushing off to rescue her.
I think I need to put an end to our relations.
Manechka and Aniska smiled, savouring the strawberry tea.
‘Manechka, you are the psychologist, explain, please, what I should do in this
situation?’ I stopped in front of her.
‘A man can’t be understood, he must be accepted! You need to accept him as he
is! There is no chance to change a grown up. A woman can change; she can be
flexible and pliable. A man doesn’t change. Do you remember the proverb: "A
man marries a woman hoping that she won’t change, but she does, and a woman
marries a man hoping that he will change, but he doesn’t’?
‘And if I don’t like him as he is! What, I don’t have any chance to change him?’
‘When you accept him as he is now, he will be ready to change, but not before!
Sometimes it’s necessary in a relationship to become blind, to see only the
positive sides. Every person, like the Moon, has dark and light sides. Leave the
investigation of the dark side of the man to his enemies and competitors. And
you should ignore this side with the understanding that it exists, yet notice only
light side,’ Manya tried to din into me.
‘You know, when I tried to apply it life became much easier,’ Aniska supported
her. ‘I decided to look at the man like natural disaster: you can’t affect it, you
can only observe it and be ready for the things which wait for you!’
‘From this moment on, please, be more precise: how can I know in advance what
I can expect from the man?’ I demanded further explanations.
‘You get what you create yourself.’ Manya was firm in her belief. ‘But we are not
talking about this now! We say that understanding the characteristics of every
man makes it easier to accept those things which are part of his nature! You
should understand that he does some things not because you are indifferent to
him or because he loves his ex-wife more, he just can’t behave any other way,
it’s his nature.’
‘Oh my God, I’m probably terribly slow-witted but while I study his features, I
will make a heap of mistakes. Maybe there is a certain description of men of
different types with their ‘tics’ which will help me to understand what I can
expect from them and to accept the things that are impossible to change, and to
find those which can be corrected softly and accurately. I need a system! Haven’t
psychologists create something, some classification of men?’ I looked at Manya
expecting the answer.
‘I guess I need to give you lecture about the different types of men,’ Manechka
said, reconciling herself to the task.
1903
‘I need to give you lecture about male archetypes. It’s necessary for you to know
how to distinguish men and to accept them as they are,’ my aunt summarized,
listening to my story about the jam and Mark's sudden departure to help Nastya.
‘Men of Mark’s type can be put in the category of TEACHERS. For him it is very
important to care and feel needed by someone.’ My aunt offered me tea and
waited until I stopped being indignant and angry. I couldn’t calm down after
returning full of doubts and annoyed with Mark.
‘The combination of different elements transforms one into a COMMANDER, the
other into an ARTIST or a POET, the third into a SCIENTIST trying to discover the
secrets of the universe, and the fourth into a MERCHANT and TEACHER. These
are the four basic categories,’ my aunt continued.
‘As you remember, four elements control the world and give each of us its own
energy. The Earth gives us practicality and stability, the skills to see details and
to support cleanliness and order, the skills to be concrete and judicious. Water
endows us with emotionality and sensitivity, compassion, the skills to follow our
feelings contrary to logic. Fire gives us creativity and imagination, the skills to
dream and invent, an ability to see those latent opportunities which are
concealed in each new step. Air supports our ability to analyze and think, inspire
and build systems in us, to be strong-willed.
As a rule, a person has all four elements, but only two of them dominate,
endowing them with certain properties and abilities. The two leading elements
decide the category.
The category of GOVERNORS is formed by a combination of Air and Earth. They
are men in whom logic and practicality are brightly etched. They are born
leaders, able to control the world and become carried away. They have a strong
will and they are purposeful and persevering. In their understanding, power rules
the world, and they can show it. They seldom suffer defeats; they don’t forgive
insults and humiliations, waiting for the opportunity for revenge. From associates
they demand subservience. They are restrained in showing their emotions,
secretive and jealous. They are inclined to watch every step of a woman and are
ready to hide her from everyone.
Such men don’t care so much about their own appearance, paying more attention
to the position of the things which belong to them.
The category of MERCHANTS is formed by a combination Earth and Water. In
such men practicality and sensitivity prevail. They show their emotions with a
perfect ability to judge the mood of others to achieve their purposes. They are
able to bargain, always defending their interests. At the same time they aren’t
inclined to sentimentality and romanticism. Their basic qualities are freedom of
action and thought, an aspiration to follow their own impulses. They are never
predictable, inclined to risk, optimistic, resolute and don’t understand abstract
reasoning.
For this type of men the aspiration to authority and glory is peculiar. They are
always assured of themselves and their rightful place. They always try to show
others their superiority, but at the same time they are sociable and are able to
create a feast for themselves and for others. They possess fine taste and are able
to enjoy the beauty of the world around them. They are very concerned with
their appearance, always perfectly dressed. They can show their generosity with
gifts and can also be very avaricious, even in small things. They are able to flirt
beautifully, delivering both sensual and aesthetic pleasure. They are great lovers
of women. They like variety in everything, constantly searching for new
sensations.
The category of CREATORS is formed by a combination of Water and Fire. In
them and their creativity sensuality is shown most strongly. They are men
possessing a rich imagination, able to be fascinated with new opportunities and
to rush after dreams. They are able to create new things. They are artists, poets,
architects, actors, and musicians. They are able to express feelings and to cause
the emotions which are necessary for them. They are pensive, romantic and
capable of fine gestures.
Such men are absolutely indifferent to household trifles, for them it’s not
important where to sleep, what to eat and what to wear, but someone's care is
vital for them. They are generous and avaricious simultaneously. Creative
disorder always reigns in their life, but only among such chaos are fine works of
art born. They poeticize the woman, but it’s difficult for them to support her.
They are ready to devote their life to her, but can hardly build a home for her.
They live in an imaginary world which is far from reality, and it allows them to
create new worlds. But to make these worlds into reality, they need someone
who will discover them and realize their imaginations. They are very inventive in
bed.
The category of TRAILBLAZERS is formed by a combination of Fire and Air. These
men have strong logic and intuition, and masculine power. They are scientists
and researchers. They are always ready to rush towards novelty to discover the
laws operating in the world. They easily destroy the old to create something new.
They are show little interest in their home, by the order the disorder in there.
They don’t pay attention to their health, taking too much interest in their work,
they can forget to eat. They are indifferent to money and are as capable of
earning as easily as they spend. They understand feelings poorly, therefore they
prefer not to show them, and they don’t allow anybody to get close to their
private world. They are perfectly able to give a reason for their point of view and
very often in the search of truth don’t notice how they wound other people. They
seem to be cold and constrained, but their heart is very passionate.
The knowledge of the category the man belongs to allows us to understand him
better and to accept him as he is, with all his advantages and disadvantages. You
can’t demand gold palaces from the artist, or strong displays of feeling from the
governor,’ my aunt finished the description of archetypes.
‘So a man can’t be changed?’ I asked her.
‘Yes, my dear, men are steadier in their appearances than women… and lazier,’
my aunt added, smiling, ‘to be more exact, they are more rational and don’t like
to waste time on developing those features which are badly expressed in them.
Unlike women who are more flexible and can develop the energy which are
poorly shown in them due to education or birth.
As you remember, a woman, as a rule, has two leading elements, for example,
Water and Air, emotionality and logic, the girl and the queen; or Fire and Water,
emotionality and sexuality, the girl and the lover. Therefore a woman, when she
knows the four basic states – lover, queen, girl and mistress, can adjust herself
to any man, understanding what he is looking for.
Everyone man searches for the energy which supplements and strengthens him.
For example, a man with practicality and logic will search for a woman with
sensuality and spontaneity, the girl and the lover. The creative man in which
there are too many feelings, on the contrary, will search for a woman in which
practicality prevails, Earth, and logic - Air. But let’s look at it in more detail.
GOVERNORS expect the woman be sexual and emotional, to be the lover and the
girl. In Japan they are called geishas, in India DEVADASI, in Greece HETAERAS,
but the name isn’t important. Their image is the flitting, multi-coloured butterfly.
Such women are talented in many respects - they sing and dance perfectly,
compose verses and act on the stage. They are plastic, creatively inventive. For
them life is a stage, and they create a new plot each time, thinking out
everything from costumes and to rejoinders. And men from the category of
governors are grateful to them for filling his regulated and grey life with colour
and unpredictability. These women are able to admire a man sincerely and to
inspire him onto new deeds. And even if a man grumbles finding not a single a
necessary item among her lot of knickknacks, he is ready to indulge the whims of
the little girl, and at night to melt from her skilful caresses. The image of a
romantic girl fits them most of all.
MERCHANTS wait for a judicious and sexual woman, the queen and the lover.
Such women are externally cold and inaccessible, icily clever, but are liberated in
bed. They are temperamental and playful, but a man always has doubts about
her feelings. It seems to him that he is participating in some kind of experiment,
but the taste of risk only adds acuteness to his sensations.
Even the cold thrift of such women and their squandering don’t frighten off men
from the merchant clan but, on the contrary, push encourage them to show their
generosity by making gifts. She allows a man to choose a gift, not imposing her
desire, trusting his taste. She need simply mention what she likes. But during
difficult times for the man such a woman is able to stop and is ready to moderate
her appetites and without demanding anything.
Merchants are easily reconciled with the follies of their beloved and their eternal
brothel, with their neglect of cosiness and an inability to cook. They are
fascinated with the mixture of independence, cleverness, passion and
uncontrollability. Active and unpredictable, such women hold men with their
constant liveliness, organizing short-term scandals and misbehaviour, but they
calm down and concede defeat quickly. Not much bothered by the attention of
other men, merchants are more jealous of girlfriends.
Expensive cosmetics and polished nails are the signs of their girlfriends. The
merchant pays attention to their quality and originality. Form-fitting evening
dresses, a constant change of appearance incite the desire of the merchant,
fascinating him like any new goods. The woman who is both queen and lover is
ready to dance for the man, not allowing him to touch her and thus kindling his
desire. She is able to distract the man from his problems with stories about
fashion, about her feelings, praising his advantages, returning his confidence to
him. A man also likes to see her jealousy, to enjoy a scandal. She doesn’t dare to
show her bad mood in the presence of the man.
Men who are CREATORS appreciate practicality and logic in a woman. It’s
important for them to see the mistress and the queen in their companion, the
muse. Such women are able to create cosiness, to promote cleanliness, to cook
tasty meals and to keep house reasonably well. They control the world perfectly,
and sometimes it’s not important for them that their world is the entire state.
Such women are thorough and quiet, self-restrained in the display of their
feelings. They are elegant and accurate. Their skill to plan and organize
everything makes them the leader in their family. Men who are creators easily
give them their authority at home, dedicating themselves to creativity; they don’t
care about household trifles.
Often the problem is that such women search for strong and successful men in
whom a similar energy is shown, without understanding why such men don’t pay
attention to them. Queens and mistresses don’t want to spend time on promising
artists and writers, not understanding that only their efforts will make these men
successful. Only a woman helps a man to reach those heights which are
preordained him by destiny.
Men belonging to the category of TRAILBLAZERS also look for a woman with
practicality, but at the same time for emotionality, for the mistress and the girl.
Such women possess fine taste and are accurate. They prefer convenient and
practical clothes, without any laces. They cook and sew perfectly. They are
always busy with something. Their house always sparkles with cleanliness and is
always open to guest. Mistresses and girls are sociable and cheerful. They are
ready to support during difficult times, to calm and caress. Such women judge all
the nuances of a man’s mood perfectly and can easily change themselves
according to it.
Trailblazers are grateful for her support and the organisation of his life, for those
emotions which she gives him. But it’s important for him to see her admiration
and her belief in him. She conducts all the business, but always gives him chance
to feel like the boss. She leaves the final word to him, but it doesn’t mean that
she will do what he says. She allows the man to rule, controlling him softly and
gently.
Finished the description of archetypes, my aunt looked at me closely, expecting
questions. Certainly I rushed to ask.
‘And what man is ideally suited to me? Which of my manifestations does he wait
for?’
‘Initially you were the girl and the mistress, so men from the clan of governors
attract you more strongly. Every woman always has a choice: to meet the man
which fits her perfectly, or to become the woman a particular man wants to see.
We have already said that a man doesn’t change, and that for woman it’s easier
to show desirable qualities. It is certainly easier to remain yourself, to behave
naturally and to understand that you accepted as you are. But, expanding your
opportunities, you expand your choices. And in this case you can choose, not be
chosen. You decide with which man you will stay, who will be the father of your
children. But nothing in the world can change a man; on the contrary, he is ready
to change the world to suit himself, as well as his woman if she is ready to
change.

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***
 Part 4. On the peak of the dream

Chapter 17. Are you ready to change?

2003
‘Am I ready to change?’ I asked myself thinking of Matvey. Why should I go and
have foolish manicure done so that he likes me better if for him the love of a
woman is shown in her good looks? I hat to spend hours in the salon to make
myself beautiful.
Categorizing Matvey as a merchant, I became sad. Somewhere in my heart I
wanted to be mistaken. I reached the salon and was even on time, which was
amazing a rare feat. I couldn’t wait to tell to Mila, my manicurist, about the trip
to Moscow, about the male archetypes and about my problems.
Is it possible to tell a life story in an hour, not only the events of the past week?
Maybe that’s why manicurists become the keepers of secrets and advisers to
their the clients. Mila was the source of feminine wisdom and advice for every
occasion. The best psychoanalysts are in the world are probably manicurists.
Mila was amazing as always.
‘Well, what’s new in your love life?’ she asked having barely greeted me. ‘Do we
fight the same battles or has a new one appeared?’
‘For now we hold the fort!’ I tried to answer in the same style.
‘And what, someone doesn’t have enough strength to break through?’ Mila lifted
her eyebrows in surprise.
‘It seems to me that someone just doesn’t have desire!’ I became sad.
Mila was lost in thought, working with my hands. I considered too, whether I
needed to call and what to say if I did, and if Matvey were to call, how to answer
him.
‘Does he give you gifts?’
‘Gifts? There haven’t been any occasions yet, neither my birthday nor Christmas,’
I answered.
‘You don’t need occasions for giving gifts! Men like to give gifts because they
intuitively feel that they will be given back ten time more than they give!’ uttered
Mila pompously. ‘And the more gifts they give, the more they appreciate the one
whom they gave them to.’
‘Somehow I haven’t noticed a passionate desire in men to shower me with
diamonds!’ I doubted Mila’s words.
‘Did you ask them about diamonds?’ Mila asked counter question.
‘A man with any sense should understand it himself!’
‘You overestimate men! I see that it’s necessary for you to learn the technique of
receiving gifts!’
‘My God, why is everything so complicated? So tell me your magic trick, we will
try it, maybe it really will work.’
‘Before I tell you what to do to get gifts, I want to warn you that it’s the gift
which is important.’
‘But the attention,’ I continued.
‘No, your reaction to this gift is important! The man expects for an emotional
answer, the acknowledgement is vital for everybody. He wants not just to offer,
but also to hear and see that his efforts are appreciated. Even if you forgot to
express rough delight after getting a gift at first moment, it’s never late to do it.
It’s better to thank him later than not at all.
‘But if I didn’t like a gift it will be insincere.’
‘Just the fact that the man tried to find something for you already deserves
gratitude and admiration. Especially if you consider that for a man it’s improbably
difficult to imagine what you like. He is very afraid to buy some trash and be
trapped. That’s why it’s always good to tell him your dreams and about those
gifts which you would like to get in advance. How quickly does a woman make
her decision?’
‘Immediately: I arrive, I see something and I buy it,’ I answered, imagining the
typical pastime of window-shopping.
‘Yes, you’re right. And a man?’
‘With my small experience, they need a lot more time.’
‘The least amount of time for a man to make decision is seven hours, then 14
hours, 72 hours, a year and 3 months, 3 years and 7 months, etc. The longest
program works for 12 years. By virtue of his mentality a man simply isn’t capable
to agree with our ingenious offers at once. He will convince you then and there
that it’s silly, illogical, expensive, etc., giving you a of arguments why it shouldn’t
be done! And God forbid if you agree with this or, even worse, to burst out crying
and became psycho!’
I listened with an opened mouth. So many things had become much clearer!
‘The first rule is to talk about your desires only when sitting or laying next to
him.’
‘Yes, besides that they are silly they are also hard of hearing,’ I noticed sadly.
‘It’s better to sit down on the left side of your lover so all your words will be
perceived more favourably.’
‘Well, I’ve got it, and what is the second rule?’
‘The task should be very precise and clear. Men don’t understand such abstract
things as ‘please me with something’. With what gift would you like to begin?’
I deliberated for a while. Soon Valentine's Day will be here.
‘You know, it sounds banal, but I would like to get a diamond ring. But I don’t
believe it’s possible.’
‘Darling, you don’t appreciate yourself. A chat with you is already a gift for the
man. You give him time, ideas, passion, and he gets all this for free.’
‘But it’s impossible to reduce everything to mercantile relations,’ I was indignant.
‘There wouldn’t be any progress without mercantile relations if you remember
from school, and on the other hand, it’s strange enough to acknowledge it, but
men appreciate a woman for whom they put out. Consider yourself as an
investment: the more man will invest in you, the more he will get from the world.
Accepting his gifts, you enable him to develop himself!’
‘Well, let’s say that you convinced me. So, should I just come and say: ‘I want
you to give me a diamond ring for the Valentine's Day?’
‘Certainly not, but now it’s important to be specific about your desire: do you
want white or yellow gold, how many carats should the diamond be, or maybe
you saw already saw the ring somewhere.’
‘You suggest I choose it myself and just show it to him!’
‘You can show the catalogue or an advertisement! It all depends on his taste!
‘I would like a ring made of pink gold with a small diamond, I think I saw one in a
catalogue.’
‘That’s already much better,’ Mila complimented me. ‘Now, how to formulate the
desire. You should do it only from the point of view of his interests: why he
needs it. So, rule number three is to speak about your desires on the assumption
of his values.’
‘He definitely doesn’t need it! Why should he give me a ring?’ I was perplexed.
‘We already know what giving gifts means for men. They invest. Think what is
significant for him - to show his generosity, to emphasize his importance, to
show his taste or something else’
‘I’m so glad that I met a man with such faultless taste and I will be very pleased
if you choose a ring made of pink gold with a small diamond for me for
Valentine's Day.’ I spoke this phrase and was terrified with its floridness, but Mila
approved. ‘You mean to say that a man will react better to this phrase than if I
just said: ‘I wish to get this and that’.
‘Certainly. You complemented his faultless taste and gave him the chance to
show it. Try it and enjoy the result.’
‘And what if it is too expensive for him?’ I become agitated again.
‘We should always ask for gifts more expansive than a man can afford,
expanding his comfort zone.’
‘His comfort zone? Did we discuss it?’
‘The zone of comfort is what the man has at this particular moment: the car he
has, the apartment he lives in, the money he earns. A woman’s desires expands
his comfort zone, therefore those men whose wives want more, have more.
Certainly, leaving the comfort zone is always difficult, that’s why it’s called a
comfort zone. It’s very cosy for the person and he doesn’t want to change
anything at all. But there is one law: if you don’t expand the comfort zone, it
starts to narrow and the person starts to lose what he has. When asking for the
impossible you get what you are waiting for! That’s why receiving gifts is only
one example how we can expand a man’s comfort zone. The same laws work for
programming a man’s future, to get of cars, apartments anything you wish! The
more you appreciate yourself, the more chances man has to reach his heights.’
1903
‘The more you appreciate yourself, the more chances man has to reach his
heights,’ I thought, admiring the shop window of the magnificent Fabergé
jewellery shop. I asked Mark to help me choose a Christmas gift for my aunt. And
here, facing the diamonds, I plucked up my courage to tell Mark that I too
dreamt of a gift.
‘Varya, what do you think, will Sofia Nikolaevna like silver spoons?’ Mark asked
me. ‘Did you choose something already?’
‘I did,’ I laughed, ‘but not for my aunt, for myself. Look at what a beautiful
stone!’
‘Yes,’ Mark agreed with readiness, but didn’t offer to buy it for me.
I spent some more seconds among the diamonds but Mark was completely
fascinated by the silver bagatelles. Choosing a graceful silver flask for aromatic
oils together, we left the shop. I boiled with rage, but tried not to show it.
Refusing an invitation to tea, I rushed off to my aunt.
Dashing into the house as enraged as a fury, I rushed to her without taking my
coat off.
My aunt sat reading a novel.
‘Why are men such muttonheads?
‘What happened now? Calm down, breathe! Now tell me what happened!’ My
aunt was able to remain imperturbable under any circumstances.
‘I did everything you taught me: brought Mark to a jewellery shop, showed him a
ring, he agreed that it was charming, but didn’t make a movement to suggest he
buy it for me.’
‘Don’t forget what a long time men need for decision-making! You will return to
this theme in three days!’
‘And what should I tell him?’
‘The main thing isn’t what you will tell, but what you feel! You should feel that
you are worthy all the diamonds in the world! You should learn to accept love,
embodied in gifts. If inside of yourself you don’t believe that you are worth this
love, you reject even the opportunity that all riches of the world can be
presented to you just because you exist, walk, breathe, and laugh.
I wanted to protest, but I understood deep in my heart that my aunt was right;
in my heart I didn’t believe that I was worthy of this diamond. I looked at my
aunt.
‘We will try to do the exercise ‘Cornucopia’. But before we must be released of
anger with the world for not giving you gifts. You just weren’t ready to get them.
Let's stand, legs set apart at the width of the shoulders, exhaling we part our
hands, we lift them above our heads, inhale, and exhaling we show our thumbs
to the world, we show that everything is all right. We remember the insult of the
world and we will turn the thumbs downwards, we grasp the insult, connecting
the tips of the thumbs at the level of the bottom of the stomach and we lift the
insult upwards along the centre, along the road of life. We take a deep breath.
We exhale from the top, saying “HOH” and we throw out the insult, lifting the
thumbs upwards, saying to the world that we are worthy of everything, and
thank it for its generosity. And the world opens above us a cornucopia. We
connect our fingers, we create a cornucopia turned to us and imagine clearly
what comes to our life: all the gifts, all the presents. We bind our fingers and,
patting ourselves on the head, swimming in the abundance of the world, we
imagine how the world showers us with diamonds.’
2003
I stood in the middle of the room and imagined Matvey showering me with
diamonds, but the phone rang unexpectedly. I even shuddered, hearing Matvey’s
voice.
‘What is the most charming girl in the world doing?’
‘I was imagining how the most generous man in the world was showering me
with diamonds!’
‘Do I know him?’
‘Yes, you do, and very well! Are you in St. Petersburg?’ I changed topic
remembering that asking for gifts should be done near the man instead of being
a thousand kilometres from him.
‘No, I’m still in Moscow. I arrive tomorrow! Will you meet me at midday?’
‘It will cost a lot!’ I tried to joke.
‘All the diamonds in the world?’ said Matvey terrified.
‘We’ll discuss it when you will arrive,’ I answered happy with myself, hung up and
began to plan how to create an convenient opportunity. I wanted spontaneity and
naturalness, and instead of it I needed to count my steps.
By noon of the following day the plan was completed to the smallest detail. A
man can’t be told to go somewhere, I don’t know where, and bring me
something, I don’t know what. It’s only in Russian fairy tales he copes with such
tasks, in life uncertainty leads them into a stupor. I called into a shop and took a
catalogue with rings. I liked many models therefore I decided to leave the final
choice to Matvey. And I heroically devoted my evening to making pelmeni
knowing how much he liked them.
‘Where will we have dinner?’ was the first question Matvey asked me.
‘A hungry man is scary,’ I thought.
‘I made you a tasty surprise, so we will go to my place.’
‘Yes, I feel it will be difficult to pay off,’ Matvey complained.
‘You can afford it!’ I parried with a phrase I read somewhere.
We had almost approached Vasilievsky Island when Matvey’s mobile rang.
‘Lara, is Bolshaya Morskaya street far from here? I need to take some
documents. And then we will go to eat your surprise. I hope that I won’t die of
hunger.’
‘We need to make a small circle!’
We stopped near the business centre in the middle of Bolshaya Morskaya. Matvey
went for the documents, and I looked at the buildings. And suddenly my sight
landed across the street to an old grey building with an old Faberge sign on the
façade and new shop signboard - Yakhont. Obeying an impulse and remembering
the description of this shop in my great-grandmother’s diary, I decided to glance
inside.
I was as if I had travelled back a century, examining the showcases. Suddenly a
necklace made of silver with turquoise attracted my attention. Amazed by its
grace, I then and there realized that it would fit my turquoise-coloured dress
perfectly. Fascinated, I returned to the car. Matvey was already waiting for me.
‘You look as if saw the embodiment of your dreams,’ Matvey commented.
‘You almost guessed. I saw the necklace I always dreamed about. Perhaps, I’ll
buy it,’ I said mechanically and realized that I didn’t give him chance to choose a
present for me, I decided everything myself. It’s very difficult to get rid of the
passion for independence; it appears at the most improper moments. My plan, so
carefully developed, was destroyed. I didn’t want to ask him for the ring of pink
gold any more. All these thoughts ran through my head very quickly but Matvey
didn’t notice anything.
The pelmeni were perfect, and Matvey collapsed on the sofa almost purring from
pleasure. I sat down on the left side and started to purr too, saying that
Valentine's Day is soon and I want to have something to remember him by.
‘What does my girl want?’ Matvey asked indulgently.
‘You remember I told that I saw a necklace while you were taking your papers.
‘Yes, it’s dangerous to leave a girl alone. Something will attract her sight
immediately.’ Matvey chuckled obviously, but I decided to remain firm up to the
end.
‘I could certainly buy it myself, but it would be much nicer to get it from you on
Valentine's Day. I’m so glad I met such generous man.’
‘Why do I prattle on?’ I thought about myself.
Matvey reflected and remained silent. I don’t know he was thinking about but I
decided that the program about gifts was installed.
1903
‘The program about gifts is installed,’ I thought warming in Mark's embraces.
At the weekend we went to Peterhof to defend a snow fortress, traditional
Russian winter fun. The fortress was built of blocks of snow in the middle of the
park, and it sparkled in the sun. We joined the team of defenders. Laughter and
women’s squeals created an easy and carefree atmosphere. Passions burned
strongly, and a hail of snowballs fell upon the fortress. We tried to attack.
According to the rules, if three snowballs hit someone he had to leave the
battlefield. Our ranks thinned. I tried to avoid snowballs, but an unexpectedly
strong impact into my face literally knocked me down. Tears flew from my eyes
involuntarily. Mark needed a few seconds to realize what had happened. Then
and there the cheerful battle stopped and he rushed to me.
‘My dear girl, is everything alright?’ he asked me with anxiety, petting my head
and hugging me. I sobbed a little bit, forgetting about the snowball and enjoying
his embraces.
‘Varya, what will console you?’
I remembering my aunt’s advice, smiled through tears and uttered indistinctly:
‘A kiss and…’ I reflected, ‘something that will remind me of this day, a crystal
similar to snow.’ I hoped that Mark’s imagination was good enough to understand
my hint of a diamond. I needed to wait for the program to work.
2003
I needed to wait for the program to work! Matvey left for Moscow and it wasn’t
clear whether he was going to buy me the necklace. I had already decided that I
needed to buy it myself instead of ‘waiting for the favour of nature’. Besides, as
the anniversary of our meeting drew nearer it seemed that Matvey forgot about it
like a true man. Reflecting, I sat down to write an e-mail asking him if he had
any ideas or plans for the 14th of February. The answer pleased me with its
predictability and a question: and what happens on the 14th of February? I
needed to remind him softly of Valentine's Day and that I waited with impatience
for his gift and was preparing one for him.
We decided to celebrate the holiday those who love at the Ginza restaurant in St.
Petersburg. I waited with a sinking heart for this evening. Soft jazz played,
candles burned. I wore a silver dress with tiny turquoise forget-me-nots
scattered on it, flickering in the light of the candles. My hair was free of ornament
and emphasized my long neck. We raised our glasses and drank to Valentine’s
Day when Matvey pilled out a box. I was pleased that he thought of a gift, and it
wasn’t so important now what is in the box. I opened it and gasped - the refined
silver bauble with turquoise was even more beautiful than that which I had saw.
‘Can you imagine, my driver met the plane from Sverdlovsk at night. When I
came to the shop to buy you a gift, they said that the necklace you liked had
already sold, and they suggested that I order something. I chose from the
catalogue according to my taste, and they promised to finish it last week. But, as
always, something was wrong and they called me yesterday, apologizing that
they didn’t have time to deliver the necklace from Sverdlovsk. So I had to find
some friends there and to ask them to send your gift by plane and to meet the
flight at night.’
I listened holding my breath and just whispered:
‘You are incredible! I can’t imagine what did you do organize to all this. How did
you remember that I dreamed of a turquoise necklace?’
Matvey just smiled indulgently.
‘It’s the most refined gift of my life, only you with your faultless taste could
choose such a beauty,’ I continued to admire.
‘All right,’ Matvey was embarrassed. ‘When a man is ready to spend his money
and time on a woman, it means that he is in love.’
1903
‘When man is ready to spend his money and time on a woman, it means that he
is in love!’ Mark said solemnly. The fireplace burned and filled the room with the
scent of pine trees. We sat at the table celebrating New Year. The clock struck
twelve, and Mark asked me to close my eyes. I felt the touch of stone on my skin
and a clasp on my neck. For millennia man has put necklaces on his beloved, and
for millennia all woman’s heart melted during this moment.
Before going out I had tortured my aunt with the question of what should I do if
Mark gave me a gift. Do I need to accept it matter-of-factly saying ‘thanks’ or, on
the contrary, to jump on his neck with joy? I was bored of trying to do everything
faultlessly, but wanted to avoid a fatal mistake. Trying to be reassured, I
discussed each step with my aunt.
‘Every man expects for an emotional return when he gives a gift, and it’s not
important if it is a small knickknack or a home. A man wants to see, to hear and
to feel that he can give pleasure, can satisfy the expectations of his beloved.
Every man in the world expects for such acknowledgement. Acknowledgement of
his merits! Ovations and applause, even if only from one woman. We often forget
to say or to show that we appreciate everything a man does for us! We
appreciate his care, we appreciate his efforts, we appreciate his attempts to
please us, to choose and buy us a gift. Don’t be afraid to say “thanks” once again
to express your puppy’s delight from his attention!’
My aunt’s instructions still sounded in my ears when I arrived at Mark’s place to
celebrate New Year. Mark decided that we would meet it together, and only then
go to the ball at the Yusupov palace. A little bit confused and solemn, he met me
at the entrance of his house.
We sat in the dining room, trimmed by oak panels, and silent servants brought
new dishes.
With the stroke of midnight Mark put the necklace on me! I waited for a ring and
in the beginning become a bit puzzled; therefore I dared not open my eyes.
‘Varya, you can open your eyes!’ Mark laughed. ‘You are like child expecting a
miracle!’
I opened my eyes and rushed to the mirror! The huge triangular diamond of fine
cut about ten carats in weight flickered in a light of the candle! I lost the power
of speech from amazement and just thought feverishly whether it’s possible or
not to accept such an expensive gift! My aunt ordered me to be pleased with any
gift, and still stunned by its beauty and value, I turned to Mark! I looked at him
with a sight of the person who had just heard been pardoned! A mix of delight,
admiration, and gratitude in my eyes.
‘Mark, it’s so beautiful that I can’t find any words!’ and I hugged his neck with
my arms. Maybe in another situation it would look unnatural but now it was quite
apt! Mark blurred in a happy smile and whispered:
‘You are like a child who got the toy it wanted at last! I realized now how Santa
feels! And I like this feeling so now I’m ready to present you the whole world!’
‘I don’t need the world yet, you are enough for me!’ I answered laughing.
‘Though I’ll think about your offer!’
‘I feel that you are burning to show off your gift. So it’s time to go for the ball!’
and Mark went to give orders about the carriage.
‘Most likely you want to show your generosity and to hear passion in your
address,’ I thought, ‘and to be convinced once again that you are appreciated!’

To contents

***
Chapter 18. Surprises and more surprises

2003
It’s important for a man to feel that he is appreciated. I was convinced of it the
next day. One of our partners called me to work and to my banal question: ‘How
are you doing?’ complained in a hysterical voice that he was not appreciated. It
was real cry from the heart! I decided to write a letter to Matvey about how
much I liked the turquoise necklace.
‘It’s time to bring our relations to the logical conclusion,’ I reflected, ‘we have
been meeting for almost a year’.

Yesterday everything was remarkable! After the restaurant we went to

Kochubey's palace in Pushkin. A long time ago the palace was restored and
turned into an expansive hotel. Choosing a room in the French style, I asked if it
was possible to bring my vases and my CD-player, to light candles and to order
champagne and fruit to the room. The staff was obviously intrigued by my
wishes.
Before supper I came in and admired my preparations once again. The roses and
candles floated in bowls with water, the bed was covered with dark, claret silk
bed sheets, the air was filled with the aroma of jasmine (it was difficult to find
French perfume), the CD with French music was waiting to be played.
‘It’s interesting. What man deserves all these preparations?’ I could see this
question in the eyes of the personnel. And I hoped that the appearance of
Matvey wouldn’t disappoint them!
‘Where are you taking me?’ Matvey asked when the ship moored and we sat in
the car.
‘To France!’ I answered easily.
‘I didn’t take my passport!’ Matvey become agitated.
‘I am joking. We are going to Pushkin, but for a French night.’
‘And what is waiting for me there?!’
‘The games of Madame de Pompadour!’
‘I don’t speak French!’ Matvey warned.
‘Je t’aime! That’s all that you need to know!’
‘And what does it mean?’ he asked cautiously.
‘I love you!’ I translated, being frightened that Matvey wouldn’t join the game.
But, obviously, words of love in other languages aren’t perceived so seriously and
mean nothing to a man, it’s easier to say ‘I love you’ to him in three foreign
languages than in his own.
Therefore Matvey repeated easily:
‘Je t’aime!’
After the French lesson we reached Pushkin quickly. Because it was already late,
there weren’t many cars on the road.
At the hotel I asked Matvey to fill in the registration forms, and I ran to the
room, lit the candles and put the disc of French chansons in CD-player. Entering
the room, Matvey stood stunned for some seconds.
‘Please, open the champagne,’ I asked and disappeared into the bathroom.
Putting on magnificent black lacy underwear, a garter belt and stockings, I threw
a black silk dressing gown over my shoulders and a put on a dark wig. ‘Real
French,’ I thought and with a black pencil placed a beauty spot on my cheek. My
appearance was complete.
‘Did you learn the three most favourite things of the French already?’ I asked
Matvey leaving the bathroom.
‘What?’ Matvey asked blinking his eyes and examining me.
‘Champagne before and coffee after!’
‘Let’s drink together!’ And Matvey, sipping the drink, drew me to him and shared
the champagne with me through kisses. I wanted him to continue kissing me, but
I turned the music up and began to dance. Taking a red feather fan, I began to
stroke Matvey gently with it. He hugged me and whispered: ‘Je t’aime’, then tore
my underwear off and began to caress me with the fan. The touch of cool silk
and the soft caresses of the fan carried me away to the sea of pleasure… Then
we laid embracing, and in my heart I waited for Matvey to admit his love of me
and, perhaps, propose, but it was in vain, I didn’t hear the magic words.
1903
‘I didn’t hear the magic words,’ I said with grief after returning from the ball. My
aunt lifted her eyebrows, expecting the rest of the story.

The ball had surpassed all my expectations! The glittering diamond strengthened
the sparkle in my eyes, and all men wanted to be near me. Mark whispered that
the desire of other men made me even more desirable to him. Flitting from one
admirer to another, listening to the violin music in the private theatre of the
Yusupovs, I hoped secretly that Mark would find the right moment and, admitting
his love, propose. At the end of the ball magnificent fireworks were set off in an
internal courtyard of the palace. All the visitors went out, and Mark, embracing
me from the back, kissed my ear quietly, but didn’t say a word! Maybe he
decided that situation was improper, or he was not yet ready?

‘I think, that you won’t find a reasonable explanation. When a man wants - he
does! Why is it so difficult for you to accept it, why do you like to amuse yourself
with illusions and to search for hundreds of justifications of his inactivity?’ my
aunt rebuked me.
‘Well, what should I do?’ I asked perplexed, about to start howling.
‘Just don’t cry,’ my aunt said to placate me. ‘Basically, you are right, for the man
to propose is a difficult step! And each of them understands that as soon as he
will put a ring on your finger, he will be responsible for your future. Dates don’t
oblige him to anything. Therefore, in olden times women avoided intimacy before
marriage. Inaccessibility strengthened the desire of the man and he took take
her to altar sooner.’
‘Now I’m totally confused! You told me that after three to six dates the man will
burn out. And now you say that the first night with a man must be only after the
wedding.’
‘Only in an ideal situation, my girl! Men, as you remember, are lazy creatures
and just as time is necessary for them to make a decision, they need time to fall
in love. The woman can feel that he is her man from first sight, but man needs
time, better if it is without sex, approximately three months, to kindle his
feelings. It’s a kind of trial period to taste what he is able to. Next time you will
try to give yourself only to the man on the first night after marriage.’
‘Next time?’ I asked still trying to understand what happened.
‘Mark isn’t your man, and I allowed you to spend the night with him.
‘Not my man?!’ I became puzzled. ‘And I devoted all of this year to a relationship
with a man who isn’t mine? What for?’ I looked on my aunt interrogatively.
‘So you could learn how to build a relationship correctly with a person significant
to you! Because when you will meet your other half, you won’t want to make a
mistake!’
‘And when will I meet the one who is intended for me?’ I asked cautiously.
‘After you will know many others, only then you can meet the one intended for
you by the world,’ my aunt answered mysteriously.
‘My God, a thousand women meet their one and only easily, but why is
everything so difficult for me?’
‘The one who has much is asked for much,’ my aunt noticed philosophically and
continued: ‘and why do you think that many women live with their true love?
They just remain with the first one who paid attention to them and then search
for unattainable happiness the rest of their life. They settled for a substitute of
happiness instead of searching for true love. We always have a choice, and only
the woman is responsible for the world she lives in.’ my aunt paused and, with
her more usual voice continued: ‘and the creation of this world begins with the
ring of wedding bells. So let’s return to marriage, more precisely, to receiving a
proposal!
You should lead Mark to the proposal and then you will make a decision what to
do next. In fact I could be mistaken too, maybe he is your man.’
‘I’m sure of it!’ I rushed to the protection of my romances.
2003
‘I’m still sure of it!’ I answered Aniska’s question firmly as to whether I wanted to
marry Matvey. Seeing him off to Moscow, I rushed to show his gift to my
girlfriend and to complain that no proposal was made.
‘Maybe none of this matters! And you don’t need marriage! You will meet each
other once a week, and it will be convenient for both of you,’ Aniska offered with
doubt in her voice. ‘Maybe an open marriage is the best alternative?’
‘It is for the man!’ I made a face. ‘He is fed, someone cares for him, washes his
shirts, makes love to him and, as we understand now, gives him the energy to
achieve his purposes. And what does he do? One day he will disappear, forgetting
to thank you. He gets everything and you remain with nothing. If you were his
official wife, at least you could ask for half of everything he earned owing to
you…
‘Listen,’ Aniska suddenly regained her wisdom, ‘It’s exactly the story of my
relationship with Vitalik. When we met he was twenty-five and I was twenty-four.
You remember, he worked as a billposter. Within three months he had moved
into my place and I took him to my stylist, chose his clothes, inspired and
supported him, introduced him to my company. In three years he opened an
advertising agency, bought a car, an apartment and, proud of it, moved there
alone. So what? He is twenty-nine, young and rich. I’m twenty-eight, and
certainly not old woman yet, but neither am I a young girl, and all the men ask
me with interest whether I was married. I devoted four years to the man, for
what? Certainly, I earn enough money, but it’s pleasant share the responsibility
sometimes.’
‘You’re right, the problem is that without a stamp in a passport a man doesn’t
acknowledge his responsibility to a woman, doesn’t take any obligation seriously
and isn’t ready to share his achievements with her. But what is most sad is that
we allow them to behave like this. Men are what we allow them to be,’ I came to
my conclusion, and suddenly had the thought: ‘Maybe I need to arrange some
sort of provocation?’
1903
‘You need to arrange some sort of provocation!’ My aunt’s eyes began to shine
suspiciously.
‘What kind?’ I asked lazily, becoming gloomy.
‘If after one year the man doesn’t propose, it’s time to take drastic actions,’ my
aunt declared.
‘Why only after one year?’ I asked with interest, my thoughts somewhere far
away.
‘For about half a year you look closely and, deciding that a man is worthy to be
the father of your children bring him softly, but persistently to the idea that you
will stay with him only as his wife. And if he won’t make a decisive step there’s a
chance that he will lose you forever! But sometimes such a simple idea for some
reason doesn’t even enter a man’s mind, therefore it’s necessary to make it more
intelligible.’ My aunt was obviously planning something.
‘When did you agree to meet with Mark next?’ she asked me.
‘The day after tomorrow. So what?’
‘We have enough time! You leave for Paris in only two weeks!’
‘Am I going to Paris?’ I was amazed. ‘Are you already tired of me?’
‘My God, it’s not about me? Certainly you’re going to Paris, and forever!’ My aunt
looked closely at me. ‘You still don’t understand? Mark should have a sensation
that if he doesn’t take decisive steps you will leave forever and he’ll lose you. But
be ready that there won’t be any way back. You will return to St. Petersburg no
earlier than in a year if he won’t propose you.’ My aunt looked at me and added
cheerfully: ‘It’s time to work with Frenchmen, to get one more stone for your
diadem.’
‘And I should tell him about it?’
‘Yes, you will say that you received a letter that you need to meet the notary
regarding your inheritance and you leave after two… my aunt emphasized a word
‘two’ with her voice, ‘weeks and are afraid that you will hardly be able to return
to Russia.’
‘And if he’ll say nothing and won’t try to stop me!’
‘So then it will be clear that you don’t need to waste your time on him. If one
year of your relationship didn’t end in marriage then they will become a torture,
the man is used to get everything and doesn’t make any attempts to solemnize
your relationship. The man should have a chance, but you should also not lose a
chance yourself! The century of the maiden is short, and don’t amuse yourself
with empty hopes.’
2003
‘Don’t amuse yourself with empty hopes,’ I told myself, preparing for a business
trip to Moscow. The plan was ready down to the smallest details. Today at the
restaurant I will make one last attempt to take our relationship to another level.
If I don’t succeed… well, it means there will be another man, even better!
I thought for a long time about what dress to choose, and decided on the bright
orange dress with green and white flowers. Made in the Chinese style, it was
both demure and sexual, bright and elegant. In this dress with long earrings with
green stones and high heels, I looked like an exotic flower!
‘You look amazing today,’ Matvey welcomed me.
‘Thanks!’ I answered taking my place at the little table. A cute waiter, kneeling
down and looking from below into my eyes, asked what I wanted. And despite
Matvey being there I wanted to answer: ‘You!’, but, certainly, I ordered gazpacho
and shrimp.
‘How are you doing?’ Matvey asked with interest.
‘Too good!’ I answered.
‘What do you mean “too”?’ Matvey didn’t understand.
‘Imagine, I was found by my ancient admirer. We separated three years ago, he
went to work to Amsterdam.’
‘So what did he want?’ Matvey asked suspiciously.
‘He blazed with passion and said that though he had dated different girls, he
came to the conclusion that there was nobody better than me,’ I continued,
amazed with my own imagination and telling lies with such inspiration.
‘And?’ Matvey was strained.
‘So he booked the whole restaurant on the roof of the Grand Hotel just for me.
When I arrived, it was decorated with flowers and balloons, music played; there
was a table on a podium set for two people.
‘It’s too much!’ Matvey said in a venomous tone.
‘But it was so romantic!’ I answered, pretending that I had plunged into my
memory.
‘Rich people have their own strange habits!’ Matvey said still angry. ‘And what
did he want?’
‘He offered to marry me,’ I said as calm as possible with an expression that
showed it’s a very usual thing for me to be proposed marriage. ‘Art is a great
power,’ I thought.
‘And what did you answer?’ Matvey asked indifferently.
‘First I will think whom to marry, the one who propose or the one whom I love.’
‘And the one you love doesn’t propose?’ asked Matvey pretending that he didn’t
understand who I meant.
‘Not yet, but he still has two weeks, in two weeks Artem returns to Amsterdam
and wants me to go with him and get married,’ I continued, understanding that
all return was cut off, and if in these two weeks Matvey won’t make any
movements, I should really search for some fake husband and fake a wedding.
‘Do you want to?’ Matvey looked at me suspiciously.
‘Why not get married? I will live in Amsterdam. Artem is both a lovely and kind
person, and most importantly, he is fond of me. My great-grandmother said:
‘Marry as many times as you are proposed to”.’
1903
‘Marry as many times as you are proposed to,’ I remembered my aunt’s words
and thought: ‘and if they don’t propose?"
A week had passed since I told Mark about my need to leave for Paris to deal
with my inheritance and said that I would probably never return to St.
Petersburg. Mark became nervous, but just asked the date of my departure. I
had to say that the 15th of January.
‘So, you really will leave?’ he asked me inviting to spend the weekend in a
hunting lodge.
The small house was decorated luxuriously and was very cosy. We sat in front of
the fireplace and fed each other with fresh strawberries and black caviar, drinking
mead.
‘Nothing and nobody holds me in St. Petersburg,’ I said with grief.
‘I think I hold you strongly,’ Mark laughed embracing me. Warming in his arms
and languishing from the mead, I gradually dozed off and didn’t noticed how we
slipped onto the floor and lay on a bear skin rug. Mark released me from his
embraces cautiously and brought a mink coat to cover me. But deciding that
such beauty as I didn’t need to be hidden and would be too warm anyway, he
began to undress me slowly. Obviously, the mead clouded my consciousness so I
controlled things badly. Mark lifted me carefully and put me on his mink fur coat.
And only when I felt the gentle touch of fur on my naked body, did I begin to
come to my senses.
‘Russian massage with a mink glove,’ Mark purred, ‘so you will have something
to remember in France.’
I just bent, moaning from pleasure, and thought that Mark decided to organize a
farewell evening which I would remember forever, but obviously he doesn’t make
any attempts to stop me from leaving.
The friction of our bodies against the silky fur created weak electric discharges
which increased our pleasure. And at the most last moment I burst out crying. I
didn’t understand if I was sobbing from pleasure or from the pain of realizing that
it was our last night?
2003
‘It was our last night,’ I summed up, telling Aniska about the French night in
Pushkin and the unfortunate provocation.
‘Why did you decide that the provocation was not successful?’ Aniska asked with
hope in her voice.
‘Because two weeks have passed and Matvey didn’t come to me with a ring and
words about eternal love. So I need to find some fake husband, or Matvey will
understand that I was bluffing!’
‘But it’s silly! Tell him that you changed your mind!’ Aniska offered reasonably.
‘And then I will look really silly!’ I disagreed, and suddenly I had an idea: ‘Aniska,
I am going mountain skiing!’
‘So our girl is totally out of her mind… Why skis?’ My girlfriend shook her head.
‘I will go in Chamonix, to Mont Blanc, there is still snow, and then I will return to
St. Petersburg!
‘Can you explain why you are going to rush off to ski now?’
‘To find a husband!’
‘What?’ asked Aniska surprised. ‘What husband?’
‘A fake one! I will take pictures with the Frenchman and will dispatch them to
business school e-mail addresses with the signature “My Honeymoon in
Chamonix”.’
‘As I remember you were supposed to have your wedding in April, so your
imaginary wedding can’t be earlier than July!’ Aniska damped my ardour.
‘Yes, you are right,’ I said disappointedly,’ So I need to take pictures in Hawaii!’
‘Please, not with a mulatto,’ Anisa said begging, ‘you told stories about a Russian
man and will send photos with an black one. But still what you are going to do is
just nonsense. Even if you said that you were engaged, - you could change your
mind, girls, as it’s known, are empty headed!’
‘Why don’t you understand, Aniska? I can’t sit and suffer that the man I spent so
much energy on doesn’t appreciate me.’
‘I think your great-grandmother said that men appreciate not those who spend a
lot of energy on them, but those in whom they put their energy,’ my close and
meticulous girlfriend reminded me.
‘That’s all over, now I will do everything right! I will fly to Chamonix, get
acquainted with a worthy candidate and dispatch photos.’
‘And can’t you find a fake husband here and take pictures near the monument to
Peter the Great?’ Aniska made one last attempt to dissuade me from a trip
without appreciating the scale of my plan.
‘No, my active nature demands actions!’ I declared and went to call to the tourist
agency to book the trip. ‘Sometimes it’s good to change one’s surroundings.

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***
Chapter 19. A decisive step, or the last chance

1903
‘Sometimes it’s good to change one’s surroundings,’ my aunt noticed, helping me
to pack my things. ‘You look as you are going into exile, not to France!’
‘For me France is the same as exile!’ I answered. ‘But all the same I don’t
understand, why we are doing it.’
Sofia Nikolaevna looked at me closely and said:
‘I think you understand everything; you just don’t want to admit to yourself that
this man is the past for you. Sometimes it’s difficult to acknowledge, but it’s
better to tell yourself to stop in time than to continue fruitless attempts and to
avoid new opportunities in vain hope. So don’t grieve, and collect your things, we
should finish preparations in time for tomorrow's party on the occasion of your
departure.’
‘Well,’ I agreed with obedience and began to pack my dresses.
I took the claret velvet suit and felt that I was ready to sob. And just as I was
going to cry the doorbell rang. My tears dried instantly. ‘Mark,’ the mad idea
flashed, ‘Mark came to stop me’. And I rushed to the vestibule.
But it was not Mark Golber, but a messenger who brought an envelope. It was for
me from France. Surprised, I opened the envelope and read through the letter.
‘Aunt!’ I cried out loud.
My frightened aunt left he dining room where she was giving orders to the
servants and hurried to me.
‘What happened, my girl?’ she asked amazed by my shout. ‘I hope no one died!’
‘No, but I really must go to France. Imagine, it appears that my husband secretly
built a house in Chamonix. I hope that this house was intended as a gift to me,’ I
noticed though sincerely doubting in it. ‘Finishing the work, the builders began to
search for the customer and via our notary found me. So now I have a real
reason to go to France, and the most important, I have my private residence in
the mountains!’
‘Oh, I didn’t know that a house could replace a man!’ my aunt noticed. ‘I see you
have became cheerful!’
‘Maybe the house won’t replace the man, but I have a place where I need a man,
and, it means, according to the laws of energy, he will appear!’
‘So, I am glad that the preparations were not in vain! Now you will be busy with
decorating the house and repeating all the rituals, and by the summer I will come
to you for a visit!’
‘Aunt, I really do want to go to mountains now, it’s sunny there and there is the
beautiful Mont Blanc!’ I tried to convince myself.
‘I believe, my darling, that mountain air cures all illnesses, even spiritual
wounds,’ my aunt answered.
2003
‘Mountain air cures all illnesses, even spiritual wounds,’ I thought, admiring Mont
Blanc from the window of my hotel located in the centre of small town and
surrounded by a charming garden. It was built in the art nouveaux style and was
very cosy and refined. The peach coloured walls and white arched windows and a
small turret created a romantic mood. I came down for breakfast and, ordering
cappuccino, decided, that the snow and sun will give me new strength.
Looking around, I thought that the best way to get acquainted with someone was
to join a group of learners. ‘At the same time I will learn to ride a snowboard,
skis are too old-fashioned. I put on my stylish pink snowboarding outfit and came
downstairs. I liked to walk down along the stairway where the walls were covered
with portraits of charming woman. They were about a hundred years old. I gazed
at them, admiring her perfect shoulders, long neck and small ears, huge eyes
and red curls. “I need to ask the staff who she is,’ an idea flashed in my mind
and disappeared immediately.
My thoughts switched to Matvey. What have I done wrong? Reflecting, I reached
the meeting place for beginners. It was a good group: three young Swiss, one
Austrian and one English woman who looked rough. The sun and laughter at our
own awkwardness rallied our small group by the end of class, and the invitation
to drink mulled wine followed immediately.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ Chris, the tall Austrian man with white-teeth smiled
and asked me. My thought were feverishly swept up, and I wanted to say the
habitual ‘nothing special’, but at the last second with a huge effort, answered
according to the rules:
‘A lot of interesting things.’
‘Maybe I will be more interesting, and among your plans will you find a place for
me?’
‘Maybe but today, I am afraid, I am already busy,’ I answered, suffering with
doubts that now he will be frightened and will stop any attempts to get to know
me better. But as my great-grandmother wrote: ‘to become the one you were
not before, you need to do something you didn’t do before’. And with a charming
smile I said goodbye and disappeared. ‘A lonely evening with the book expects
for me, when I could enjoy a company of the sexy Austrian,’ I both praised, and
abused myself. After dinner and a short wander through small town, I returned
to my hotel. The pianist played music by LeGrand on a white piano in the foyer.
‘What an unusual and beautiful grand piano,’ I thought.
1903
‘What an unusual and beautiful grand piano,’ I thought, passing by a shop of
musical instruments. Just after arriving in Paris I hastened to a meeting with the
notary regarding the house in Chamonix.
‘Princess, please come in’ Monsieur de Jager welcomed me, ‘did you enjoy St.
Petersburg? Has it changed since your childhood?’ he was politely interested.
‘When I studied at Smolny I didn’t see much. And I discovered a lot of interesting
things,’ I answered, thinking about ‘a lot of’ and ‘interesting’.
‘Yes, discoveries continually trap us. Who could guess that your respectable
husband built the house in Chamonix secretly?’
‘Maybe he wished to make me a gift?’ I assumed cautiously.
‘A gift? Perhaps. But whether to you, is the question!’ Charles answered
evasively.
‘If not, it would be me who had the heart attack!’ I joked sadly.
‘And now you have the house!’ The notary congratulated me with a vigorous
voice.
‘Yes, and what should I do? Sell it? What do you think?’ I asked for advice.
‘I think you need to go and look, and only then to make a decision.’ And Charles
gave me the papers confirming my rights to the property.
‘Thank you!’ I was going to leave, but Charles stopped me, obviously having
decided to do this at the last minute.
‘You have changed, princess. The Russian air was good for you. May I invite you
today to remember the taste of French coffee?’ said Charles noticeably afraid of
my refusal. Yes, my ritual was not a waste of time, even if Charles who had
known me for six years and never tried to flirt with me (and not because he was
afraid of my husband or respected him too much) has paid attention to me. Well-
cared for and beautiful, Charles was seen in the company of the most beautiful
women in Paris, and he was very proud of his reputation as a judge of feminine
beauty. Being very rich, Charles could afford to spend his time only with those
women who were not just beautiful but also interesting. Therefore there was no
better compliment for a lady than being seen with Charles. I remembered all
these things, but nevertheless answered sweetly:
‘Today I want to take a rest, and tomorrow I have some meetings!’
‘Then the day after tomorrow. I’ll wait you in Montmartre at the Chat Noir café at
5 p.m.
‘I will try to come! Goodbye!’ Congratulating myself with a victory I left the
office. ‘I really have learned to refuse appointments at once!’ I thought. ‘I am a
success!’
2003
‘You are a success,’ I praised myself. Though I saw Chris every day on the slope
and he encouraged and supported me during the lessons, and helped to carry my
snowboard up to hotel, we met at the restaurant only two days after meeting.
The restaurant hung above a splashing mountain river and was famous for its
cuisine. Ordering fois gras, we sipped white wine.
‘I leave tomorrow evening! It’s a pity that you were too busy these two days and
we didn’t have time to get to know each other better! It’s good that we have the
whole night ahead us,’ Chris hinted unambiguously and smiled with the most
sexy of his smiles.
I melt and began to convince myself: ‘Who knows whether we will meet again or
not, and it’s really silly at the beginning of 21st century to lose a chance to spend
the night with such a man.’ So I decided to throw out all my great-grandmother’s
advice and to forget myself in the embraces of the sexy Austrian. ‘It’s time to
become cynical and to learn to use men instead of falling in love with them,’ I
encouraged myself but said aloud:
‘Terrible secrets can be discovered at night sometimes. Aren’t you afraid?’
‘Wow! I like to discover secrets, especially with such a charming girl!’ Chris
answered.
‘Do you like to snowboard?’ I tried to change topic.
‘I like the sensation of soaring which I sometimes found!’ Chris answered and,
looking closely at me continued: ‘In sex I don’t need a snowboard to soar!’
‘Maybe there is something vicious in my eyes if the conversation returns so
quickly to sex?’ I thought. Somehow I managed to have friendly chats before,
but my rituals had a not altogether predictable influence.
‘They say there is a good disco here. I think we need to visit it! We should make
your last evening memorable!’ I offered.
‘OK,’ Chris agreed.
‘Only I should go and change my clothes! Will you wait? It will take no more than
ten minutes!’ And we continued to discuss, to my relief, the discos at different
resorts.
At the hotel I went to my room and changed clothes quickly. I put on a black
sweater with bare shoulders, some perfume and painted my lips, I looked at
myself in the mirror. My eyes shone feverishly with expectation. Yes, with such a
look it will be difficult to say no. ‘My God, what am I doing?’ I reproached myself.
‘The second appointment should never last longer than two hours and definitely
can’t end with sex. What do I need it for? The best thing would be to say
goodbye, kiss his cheek and meet tomorrow on the mountain’. But I was bored
already, and reasonable arguments didn’t work.
‘Didn’t you miss me?’ I asked Chris after return.
‘No, I just looked at the pictures. It’s a very beautiful portrait of the red-haired
woman!’ Chris said.
‘Yes, I like it very much too! I admire it each time I pass it!’ I agreed.
‘And do you know whose portrait is it?’ Chris interested.
‘No, I was going to ask, I think it’s the mistresses of the hotel,’ I told him my
hypothesis.
‘Yes, and I thought it was your great-grandmother. You resemble her a lot!’ Chris
noticed casually.
‘What?’ I asked again and it felt like a bucket of cold water was poured on me.
My desire evaporated at once, and I stopped transfixed. I didn’t want to go
anywhere. I looked at the portrait anew and found in the woman’s eyes an
indulgence for my weaknesses and at the same time a prohibition for breaking
the rules. I bent as though I had severe pain in my stomach.
‘What happened?’ Chris asked.
‘Excuse me, I don’t feel well! Perhaps the fois gras was too heavy for me!’ I
blurted out the first that came to me. I needed to be alone.
‘Should I call a doctor?’ Chris began to worry.
‘No, it’s ok. I will rest in bed, and everything will be fine! Sorry that I spoiled
your farewell evening!’ I said confusedly.
‘It’s nothing! We’ll go to the disco next time!’ Chris consoled me.
‘I hope so!’ I answered and thought that now we’ll definitely go, because if a man
liked a woman and didn’t get what he desired the first evening, he would do
everything to meet her once again. He would go even to the edge of the world.
‘We will meet tomorrow on the mountain!’ Chris said goodbye.
‘Yes, I’ll bring the camera, we’ll take photos! See you!’ And I kissed him in his
cheek like a modest girl. Who could think that ten minutes ago I was ready sleep
with him.
‘Recover!’ and Chris dissolved into the shadows.
I sighed with relief and looked closely at the portrait again. “It can’t be!’ I shook
my head mistrustfully and looked at the portrait once again, then into a mirror.
The same eyes wide with surprise, red curls, dimples, small ears and a long neck
- how had I not noticed it before! I looked around. All the furniture was kept
since that time. Desk lamps from Tiffany, graceful bleached coffee tables, a fluffy
ashy pink carpet, tender green curtains and upholstery on the armchairs, curved
candlesticks and a forged chandelier of an unusual green colour. And the unusual
white grand piano obviously made in the art deco style. My great-grandmother
surely had good taste.
1903
‘I obviously have quite good taste,’ I praised myself, admiring my work. Spring
had already came when I finally finished decorating the house. For the past three
months I lived in Paris, coming once every two weeks to Chamonix to check on
the decoration. And between trips I ordered furniture, selected lamps, bought
different trifles for the interior. It appeared that decorating and arranging of 600
square meters of space took a lot of time and demanded all my concentration.
I almost didn’t have time to think of Mark at all. And my dates with Charles twice
a week filled my need for admiration and flirtation. But, following my aunt’s
rules, I still kept to the state of caring. I played the unapproachable person very
well though it demanded enormous efforts because of my temperament.
Charles took me to the best restaurants, to all the premiers, gave me an amazing
ring with a sapphire as a gift and in three weeks after his first gift brought
earrings to complete the set. I accepted his care and gifts favourably without
promising anything in exchange. “How predictable men are,’ I thought. All of
Paris discussed how the tight-fisted Charles was buying up flowers and jewels.
When we arrived somewhere, everyone looked at me with interest and tried to
understand what made me so special. I would share the knowledge with
pleasure, but didn’t have time.
And now, at last, I could move to my house. I decided to spend the summer
here, breathing clean mountain air and putting in order all my records and
diaries. My aunt promised to come at the beginning of June, so I had a month to
fill the house with life.
I had dinner in the new house for the first time and laid down on the magnificent
bed. ‘Let the groom come to the bride in her dreams’ I said to myself,
remembering an old Russian tradition – when you sleep in a new place for first
time you should make a wish. And this night I dreamed about Mark. ‘I really
haven’t forgotten him?’ I asked myself in the morning.
2003
‘I really haven’t forgotten him?’ I thought in the morning. All night long I
dreamed about Matvey.
I had just returned from Chamonix with a CD loaded with photos and tons of
questions.

That evening I couldn’t wait to ask questions about the owner of hotel. I went
down to the portrait several times and peered into it. ‘Is it really my great-
grandmother?’ I asked myself again and again.
With all my romance and studying I didn’t have time to read the diary properly
and probably missed something important. I wanted to ask a lot of questions.
But after I went down the next morning, I found out that only the new owner of
the hotel knew it’s history but he was in Canada and would return only after a
month! The staff didn’t even know the name of the woman in the portrait. I was
upset and reproached myself why I hadn’t asked immediately. I decided to return
in a month.

The day was warm and sunny, just perfect for taking pictures. Everyone from our
group came to class and after we finished we went to take photos. I tried to take
some pictures with Chris. He embraced me so gently and looked at me with such
adoration that we really resembled a newly married couple.
‘It’s because I didn’t spend night with him! It’s an absolutely different attitude!’ I
thought and mentally thanked my great-grandmother whose portrait prevented
me from the mistake yesterday. Surely the photos would be worse.

‘The photos are super,’ Aniska approved, meeting me at the airport. I arrived
from Chamonix on the Geneva flight. I was dying to tell everything to Aniska and
she wanted to hear it all so we decided to have a pizza in a cafe and at the same
time to discuss results of my trip.
‘The boy is very cute and looks enamoured,’ Aniska approved my choice. ‘And
what, are you going to dispatch the photos by e-mail to your group from
business school?’
‘Why not? With the invitation to the wedding.
‘Can you imagine, how much a wedding costs? No, it’s not a good decision.’
Aniska, as always, dampened my ardour. ‘It’s better to just send photos with the
signature: ‘Me and my groom on Mont Blanc’. Let people finish the thought,’
Aniska argued.
‘OK, OK,’ I agreed with my girlfriend’s arguments.
‘Did anything else happen in Chamonix?’ the observant Aniska asked.
‘Why did you think something else happened?’ I pretended that I didn’t
understand the question.
‘Your eyes shine too suspiciously. Maybe you found a treasure there or
something else.’
‘No, I found my great-grandmother’s portrait,’ I answered as calmly as possible.
‘What?’ Aniska almost fell from her chair. ‘What did your great-grandmother do
in Chamonix and what are you,’ Aniska emphasized a word ‘you’, ‘doing here?’

To contents

***
 Part 5. Such a different happy ending

Chapter 20. How it happens: science and action

1903
‘What are you doing here?’ was all I could say when I saw Mark on the threshold
of my house.
‘I came to see you,’ Mark answered.
‘What for?’ A sillier question I couldn’t have asked.
‘I missed my red-haired imp! Varya, will you let me in your house or keep me in
the street, cold and hungry.’ Mark bent his head repenting of all sins of the
world.
‘Come in!’ I took pity.
‘And maybe you will even feed the poor traveller?’ Mark obviously tried to play on
my kindness.
‘I will feed you with your favourite borsch. Today I decided to learn how to make
it! For some reason the one my French cook makes has an altogether different
taste,’ I complained.
‘There is no Russian spirit,’ Mark guessed entering the house. ‘Oh!’ he said
delightfully, looking around. ‘It’s so cosy and beautiful! You invited an architect
or did you do everything yourself?’
‘Together. His knowledge plus my taste. I have many talents,’ I added.
‘I don’t doubt it!’ Mark said.
‘Excuse me, but I didn’t understand why and for how long you have come,’ I
continued to torture him.
‘Did you never read Russian fairy tales? First you should feed the guest, then put
him into bed, and only then inquire,’ Mark reproached me. ‘Someone promised
me a tasty meal,’ he reminded me.
2003
‘Someone promised me a tasty meal,’ was the first thing I heard from Matvey
when he called! ‘My plan really worked, obviously, the photos I sent worked",’ I
triumphed.
‘Did someone become very hungry?’ I asked.
‘Yes, in every sense!’ Matvey answered. ‘I want to talk with you about many
things! Therefore I invite you to travel with me for a week.’
‘To travel? But I’m going to marry in two months!’
‘I want to talk about this too,’ Matvey was persistent when he wanted something,
to be true, like all other men. I think that the moment when women will stop to
invent justifications for the inactivity of men, they will cease to suffer from one-
way love.
‘Yes, I ordered a yacht in Croatia, we leave in a week. I will send you tickets by
express mail. We will meet at the airport. I’ll arrive from Moscow and
immediately go to Pulkovo airport,’ Matvey gave orders with a tone which didn’t
accept objections.
‘Wait! I just returned from Chamonix! And what about my work? I’ll be fired!’ I
resisted formally.
‘It’s time to fire you!’ Matvey joked.
‘I’m offended! And what, will we need to cook on the yacht?’ I specified, already
agreeing.
‘Yes, there will only be the skipper with us, so I will fish and you will cook. Like
real adults. I would like to spend a week with you to understand if you be able to
spend the rest of your life with me,’ Matvey said silently all of a sudden and hung
up. I sat with my mouth open.
1903
‘I would like to spend a week with you to understand if you be able to spend the
rest of your life with me,’ Mark whispered silently. The borsch had been eaten
and praised. We moved from the dining room to the drawing room and settled
down near the fireplace. The fire reminded me of our last night in the hunting
lodge. Mark sat down in the armchair and putting me on his knees, embraced
me. ‘The state of the girl’,’ I noted mechanically in my mind. ‘The queen attracts,
but they marry the girl’ I remembered my aunt’s words. And turning to Mark,
looked at him in surprise.
‘You know, I’ve got used to living alone. And it’s difficult for me to imagine that
someone will be with me day and night. I suffered for three months and finally
realized how much I miss you. I am ready to make the attempt to become your
husband if you agree!’ It was obvious, that each word was struggled for and
thought over. I froze inside and specified:
‘Is this a proposal or a declare of intentions?’
Without answering Mark started to kiss me passionately. ‘Tomorrow I will send a
telegram to my aunt with a question,’ I decided and gave kisses. ‘It’s the
concurrence of energies I heard of’,’ a thought has flown into my head. Kisses
with Charles didn’t give me much of a sensation. More likely, I felt a slight
nausea after them, and Mark's kisses made each part of my body tingle with
desire for more. We pounced on each other and couldn’t be sated. At that
moment Mark glanced at the grand piano. Intercepting his look, I shook my
head:
‘No!’
‘Yes!’ Mark said and put me on the grand piano. I laughed and tried to resist, but
in vain. The sensations were inexpressible!
‘What an inventor you are!’ I said still laughing. ‘It’s awful!’
‘Why is it awful?’ Mark didn’t understand.
‘When I will be an old antique dealer people will come to buy my furniture, I
won’t be able to sell anything, because everything will remind me of making love
with you. Even the grand piano!’
‘What else remains to be involved?’ Mark was interested, and inspected the
drawing room. ‘I feel the male should mark his territory so nobody will try to take
it!’ Mark declared and stood with pride in the middle of the room. The view was
very amusing. I burst out laughing again.
‘You always force me to laugh!’ That’s all I could say through the laughter.
‘I am glad! The one who can make woman cheerful and happy wins! So I have a
chance!’ Here Mark obviously had some idea, he looked at me interrogatively:
‘Do I really have a chance or have some other candidates appeared?’
‘Certainly, they did. A beautiful woman always has a lot of admirers, but her
heart belongs only to one,’ I answered evasively.
‘I hope that’s to me!’ Mark said.
‘Hope dies last!’ I just answered.
2003
‘Hope dies last!’ I answered Matvey’s question if there was any hope of dinner. I
lay on the deck of the yacht, enjoying the warm sunbeams. Matvey tickled my
naked stomach and murmured that he deserved dinner.
‘I didn’t know that you were such glutton,’ I scolded him.
‘I’m not a glutton, but a hunter,’ Matvey said in mock offence, showing the
octopus he had just caught.
‘I don’t know what to do with it!’ I said in horror.
Two days had passed since the beginning of our trip. We behaved as a happily
married couple which went on a holiday, and we didn’t talk about my forthcoming
wedding. I decided to wait to see what Matvey would do and enjoy the beauty of
the Mediterranean Sea and the small towns scattered on the islands.
But there was no time for idling. I had to remember all my cooking skills and to
make breakfast, lunch and dinner. It’s good that the yacht had a comfortable
galley, and by the end of the first day I was accustomed to it. I had problems
only with pancakes, they always stuck to the frying pan, and so in the next town
I bought a new one. On the way from the shop, loaded down with provisions, the
new frying pan and candles I thought that Matvey needed to see how I cope with
the role of the mistress. ‘So, I will try to play this role perfectly,’ I promised to
myself.
1903
‘So, I will try to play this role perfectly,’ I promised myself reading my aunt’s
telegram. There were only three words: ‘Play the role of the mistress!’ And I
began to remember feverishly what a man expects from a woman in the role of
the mistress. I remembered the lake and the girl in the yellow dress and her
words: ‘Own the body of the man as you own this crystal’. I sat down, upset, but
doorbell rang, and a courier brought a package from my aunt. It was a letter.
‘My dear girl! If you received my telegram, probably, you understood that Mark is
looking for the role of the mistress from you. So, you need to remember all
sensual dominants of the man. Remember that his sensual preferences
developed in the first years of his life and are very deep. Everything a man sees
and feels, his mother’s caresses and smells, and the smells of his house, what he
heard when he was child, - everything ends up in his subconscious. You are
never going to be able to change anything on this level; he will always recreate
the world he is used to from childhood around himself. All you can do is to collect
information and copy as precisely as possible this world. We already spoke with
you about it, but I decided to summarize once again everything to make it easier
for you. So, the five senses are vision, touch, smell, taste and hearing. Though
them both we and the men learn the world, but a man has slightly different
priorities. Let’s analyse them in detail.
The first sense is VISION. Everything a man sees around him should correspond
to his expectations: furniture, objects and the image of the woman. The image of
the woman includes the colour of her hair, her hairstyle, the style of her clothes,
her make-up and her shoes. A woman notices details, men see the whole, and
this whole should be harmonious and organized. Every man has his own image of
the ideal woman, so you need to learn it and to match it.
Any man at the beginning tries to change a woman so she will fit his ideal image
by advising or buying things for her, sometimes criticizing her choice. And if the
woman struggles for her independence and refuses to follow the man’s wishes,
he would rather change the woman then his ideals. However, he is ready to
change his image under your sensitive guidance. Therefore, he asks you to help
him to choose a shirt, a tie, a suit. Some men want someone to look after their
appearance. Do it very correctly, try to select for him only beautiful and
expensive things. A good-looking man is often down to the merit of his wife. And
a man is grateful to her for this. Remember, that we better understand details so
show your taste and help a man with choose. But advise softly instead of
dictating or imposing. Don’t buy him things using your money before he becomes
your husband. Don’t become ‘mummy’.
The second sense is TOUCH. Men require touch and learn the world through
touch. They should touch what they see to understand how it fits them. For a
man to see means to touch. But on the other hand, they thirst for the touches of
a woman; therefore the best way to keep the man is to keep him in your
embraces.
Passing by, don’t forget to touch a special place on his body which is known only
to you gently with your hand, and to kiss him. Every morning you should begin
not with a formal kiss on the cheek, but with a real French kiss continuing not
less than seven seconds. The kiss preserves the man against unpleasant
incidents and from the claims of other women. Kissing the man in the morning
you include him in your energy circle, and he becomes less approachable by
other women. And once a week you need to please a man with massage. If his
beloved doesn’t do it, a man will search for touches somewhere else. The body
thirsts to be touched, modern men are especially starved of caresses.
The third dominant is the sense of SMELL. The smell of the beloved is
inexpressibly pleasant, but we hide this smell sometimes with the wrong choice
of perfumes. Therefore allow a man to choose a perfume for you, but at the
same time don’t tell anybody what smell attracts him. Aroma renders the
strongest influence, and you need to be very cautious so that other woman
couldn’t take advantage of this knowledge and entice your man away.
The smell of space, of the house, is very important too. Men are more sensitive
to smells than women, and the smell of a cooking meal is unpleasant for them.
Therefore men don’t like the kitchen. It’s good when there is a dining room
where he can enjoy the taste of the dishes. The only smell which gives rise to
sexual desire is the smell of vanilla. Therefore try to add vanilla to everything.
Don’t forget that the smell which is most unpleasant for men is the smell of an
old age. Everything should breathe freshness and cleanliness. Don’t store old
things and don’t invite a man to visit old relatives. Fill the house with freshness
and the sun and hang out things yearly to be freshened on the sun. Light
destroys the smell of old age; therefore try to fill the house with bright light.
The fourth dominant is TASTE. Don’t feed a man healthy food which isn’t tasty. If
a man loves borsch, become a virtuoso in its preparation. Remember, that he
searches for the taste he used to love since his childhood. Therefore some advice
from his mother would be useful. The best compliment of a man is: ‘You cook like
my mum’. Perhaps, he will grow fond of what you like. But don’t hope for it, find
out his favourite dishes and learn to cook them.
The fifth sense is HEARING. Perhaps, here is the fundamental distinction between
a man and a woman. For women hearing is in second place. Therefore women
are creatures which like to talk when they are joyful and when they are sad. They
wish to share their ideas their deeds during the day with the whole world.
But for the man hearing is in last place. He can’t listen to a woman closely longer
than twenty seconds. It doesn’t mean that he isn’t interested in your
experiences, dreams and daily life. It’s just that due to the organisation of his
brain a man ceases to perceive us in twenty seconds. Therefore to a question
‘How was you day, dear?’ you can answer only: “It was remarkable, dear, and
yours?’ And listen closely to the man. Any man wants to be listened to. Therefore
listen to him with an open mouth, without being distracted by the preparation of
meal, the cleaning of the house or other such things. Otherwise a man will find
different ears that will listen to his every word. The only things a man never gets
tired of hearing are compliments. Praise his advantages, not imaginary (or it will
be flattery), but real, and you will always find a subject for conversation.
My dear girl, here is a summary of what a man expects from you in the role of
the mistress. He expects care, but the kind of care is significant for him.
Therefore, I will repeat once again, the more you know what a man expects, the
easier it will be for you to become the woman of his dreams.
I know that when you read my words you protested about many things. ‘Why
should I fit him and why should I cook his favourite dishes, to do what is
enjoyable for him, to use perfume which he chooses, to give him massages? And
who will take care of me and where is my individuality?’ you can ask. Your
individuality is shown in others. On the physical level you are an actress and just
change costumes without changing yourself. Perceive them as the costumes and
sets of the epoch in which you should act. How you act is a manifestation of your
individuality, not your dress or what meal you cook. But on the physical level it is
so important to give a man what he asks for. And he will thank you for this with
all the world. You can certainly agree that it’s not such a high price, conceding
something small to win a greater prize.
Be wise, and the man will be in your hands forever. I kiss you, my girl, and hope
to see you in June.
Sofia Nikolaevna’.

I held my aunt’s letter in my hands and new ideas began to come to me as to

how to busy myself over the next few days.
2003
New ideas began to come to me as to how to busy myself over the next few
days. It’s good that I looked through my great-grandmother’s diary. I decided to
play the role of the ideal mistress during last four days of our trip. I succeeded in
making tasty meals, and here my skills of listening, creating my image, touch
and choosing aromas still needed to be developed. And I decided to repair an
omission. And to begin… with my image.
‘Matvey, where will we moor this time?’ I asked him.
‘On Branch Island, there is a very beautiful small town with small shops. I think
we will like it,’ he answered, eating up the octopus cooked to the recipe of the
skipper. ‘You know, you cook very well. And the main thing is, you do it quickly.
You spend all your time with me, but dinner is on a table in time. Maybe the sea
spirits help you. For three days I have had time to get used to breakfasts,
dinners and suppers.’
‘I am glad, maybe we can open restaurant. I’ll cook and you’ll get octopuses and
shellfish. There is something primitive in it!’ I answered as softly as possible
though my soul raged in indignation. As if I had any choice! You can’t protest in
the middle of the sea, he can leave you on a desert island!
‘I prefer fishing in shops. The choice is better, and you need to make less effort. I
think we will do it tomorrow!’ Matvey told.
‘I suggest we switch our roles tomorrow on the island,’ I offered.
‘How?’ Matvey didn’t understand.
‘Let me buy some things which I think will fit you, and you do the same for me.
Do you have any special wishes?’
‘I have become used to buying everything for myself, but it’s good idea,’ Matvey
reflected. ‘I wanted to buy a white shirt with short sleeves. And what do you
want?’ he asked me.
‘I doubt that we will find a shop with business suits on the shore. I agree to a
sundress!’ I answered, because I couldn’t think of anything else and was afraid to
ask for something big.
‘Will we go together or do you suggest we separate?’ Matvey wished to know all
details like a true man.
‘I suggest that for an hour we will wander separately and then go to the fish
market together, or on the contrary, first we go to the fish market, and then
shopping.’ Taking the reins in my hands, I started to give orders, but stopped
myself in time and said my special phrase: ‘However you like, darling, so it shall
be.’
Matvey summed up obviously flattered:
‘First we go to the fish market, then shops, and now - swimming!’
And before I had a chance to think I found myself in the water.
‘Let’s swim to that small island!’ And Matvey pointed to nearest one. ‘I’m dying to
make love with you on a desert island. To feel like Robinson Crusoe.’ ‘He kissed
me gently.
The island was really deserted and absolutely tiny. Croatia is a paradise for
lovers. Each couple will find an island for themselves. We lay down on the sand,
and I remembered about the massage.
‘To make you feel like Robinson, I will give you a native massage.’
‘Native?’ Matvey was intrigued.
‘Yes! Lay down on your stomach!’ I ordered. And, remembering the classes from
the Academy of the Private Life, I began to draw ‘zigzags of love’ on his wide
back, moving from the right shoulder to left and following downwards on the
diagonal, grasping his sides, the most sensitive places of the man’s body, and,
inhaling, touched his skin along the backbone with my nails. Five such moves and
Matvey started to groan in pleasure.
Some circular touches of the tailbone – the concentrations of masculine sexual
energy, and then my hands began to draw half-circles around his buttocks and,
again connected, to rise upwards up to tailbone.
Inhaling strengthens sexual energy and consequently any moves done while
inhaling activates desire for both the man and the woman. Every woman should
remember that it’s possible to be technically correct, but without the inflow of
energy they will be just mechanical movements.
Matvey obviously felt my sexual energy; he didn’t stay motionless for long and
very soon started to show his initiative.
When we came to our senses, Matvey looked at me with delight and said:
‘You natives are so serious in this! I hope you don’t eat your victims after such
pleasure!
‘No, we just salt them in sea water,’ I laughed and, diving, swam to the yacht
peacefully rocking on waves.
‘For the sake of such a massage I would give my life!’ Matvey declared
overtaking for me.
1903
‘For the sake of such a massage I would give my life!’ Mark murmured happy,
lying on the bed. ‘And who taught you?’
‘My aunt!’ I answered with modest eyes looking down.
‘Some movements create miracles in a man,’ I thought satisfied. ‘Every girl
should be taught the art of erotic massage. Like in India, where the true woman
should be the master of 64 different arts’.
Saturday morning began with a gentle massage and gentle sex. Once my aunt
explained for almost four hours that morning caress are the most powerful
weapon. We can take hold of the man completely in the morning.
The display of his sexuality in the morning is the best opportunity to satisfy and
to please a man. The woman who will be with him at this moment and will be
able to satisfy his desire, will be in his thoughts for rest of the day.
‘If you want a man give all his desire only to you, never refuse his love in the
mornings,’ my aunt repeated to me, ‘even if he has not woken up yet reaches for
you, exult – he is yours. If you don’t have time at all, kiss him, but not on lips
but in some more sensitive place. If you want him to belong only to you, begin
every morning with love.’
Following her advice I began Saturday morning with frank kisses and a massage.
‘Where did you learned that?’ Mark asked suspiciously.
‘I was trained on bananas!’ I explained modestly.
‘Yes, one can never ever be bored with you! And you look such a decent sort!’
Mark smiled.
‘In my opinion, everything is within the limits of decency,’ I shrugged my
shoulders, ‘Stop luxuriating, get up! Great deeds await us!’ I joked and began to
push him from the bed.
Following my aunt’s advice, I decided to give him a chance to show his taste and
to arrange the guest rooms and to change slightly the decoration of the drawing
room. Mark was flattered that I asked him for advice, and he began to go to
shops with me with pleasure.
The first joint visits to shops are as intimate as first kisses. The main thing is to
remember that a man can stand shopping no longer than half an hour.
2003
‘The main thing is to remember that a man can stand shopping no longer than
half an hour,’ I reminded myself.
There were shops with different nonsense bewitched by the imagination of
designers and a variety of pretty trifles which you wanted to look at. Certainly I
didn’t keep to the limit of half an hour, but nevertheless was in time choosing a
shirt for Matvey. We met after forty minutes in a coffee house and, admiring the
yachts, exchanged impressions.
‘Yes, I found you a sundress, but it seems to me that you should try it on,’
Matvey remembered suddenly.
‘I postponed buying the shirt for you, I was afraid to be mistaken with the size
too. Let’s go try it!
‘Yes, a good idea! I think we will begin with the shirt, ‘cause I assume that the
choice of the sundress will take more time,’ Matvey said paying off for coffee.
We went to the shop and I asked the assistant to show us the shirt which I
chose. When Matvey left the fitting room, both I and shop assistant gasped.
Whether it was a special cut, or a special colour, the shirt made Matvey madly
sexual.
‘Your wife has magnificent taste,’ the shop assistant praised my choice.
‘Yes,’ Matvey agreed proudly. ‘You know, this shirt needs jeans. Can you
recommend something?’ Matvey asked the shop assistant. And the joyful shop
assistant rushed to select jeans for him. Some styles were absolutely unusual,
but some sat as though they were made for him, making his legs longer, and his
buttocks more rounded.
‘You have strange models here,’ Matvey noticed to the shop assistant.
‘Why strange? For gays’ the shop assistant answered not being confused. ‘They
are able to create things emphasizing the figure and doing it more courageously.’
‘Darling, where did you take me?’ Matvey burst out laughing.
‘It doesn’t have any sign that it’s for gays,’ I began justified myself. ‘But the shirt
and jeans suit you really well, it’s true. So we’ll take them.’
Matvey paid, and continuing to laugh, we left the shop.
‘Now I will lead you to my shop, I hope, that we aren’t going to be surprised,’ he
said.
The shop for women was full of beads, different shoes, and hats and, certainly,
T-shirts, sundresses and skirts of all colours and styles. We were dazzled with the
diversity of colours. If I was alone, I would spend all afternoon here, trying on
and digging through all this stuff. “But you shouldn’t test the patience of a man!’
I reminded myself looked at Matvey.
‘You know, I like this style.’ Matvey handed me something pink with frills and
laces. Usually I don’t buy such things preferring more strict and elegant clothes.
For me it became a discovery that Matvey likes more romantic young ladies. But
the sundress with bare shoulders and flowing skirt transformed me into a girl
from the last century.
‘Madly beautiful,’ Matvey said when I left a fitting room. ‘you know, you need
beads, long earrings and sandals,’ Matvey said reflecting and, whispering about
something with the shop assistant, began to have me try on different beads and
earrings. Finally he chose what he liked and brought the sandals for me. I felt
like Galatea, and Matvey, probably, felt like Pygmalion, and each stroke in my
transformation forced him fall in love with his own creation more strongly.
Captivated, he looking at me and put a pink hat on my head, blinking his eyes,
obviously satisfied with the result of his works, he said: ‘Now that’s all!’
1903
‘Now that’s all,’ Mark said when he chose the last lamp.
I liked to go to the shops in Geneva with Mark. It was a joint process of
creativity. But the most important we that we liked the same things. As if we
were tuned to the same frequency. As soon as my sight was caught by
something Mark also stopped near this thing and nodded approval of my choice.
And when something was pleasant to Mark, I looked at this thing and discovered
a lot of interesting things for myself. It was like looking at the world through
Mark's eyes, and the world painted in other colours, showed its new sides. We
spent an hour in a furniture store, choosing the furniture for the guest room and
ordering lamps. Unlike me, Mark chose everything in constrained beige, gold and
deep dark blue tints, no pink or light green. Yes, men have an absolutely
different perception of colour. For them exciting colours for a bedroom are dark,
pink may be tender, but isn’t passionate. I was ready to pay, when Mark stopped
me.
‘Let me pay for everything,’ Mark said.
‘But it’s very expensive,’ I was embarrassed.
‘I can afford it,’ Mark said simply.
I wanted to argue, but I stopped myself. If the man wants to invest in your
house, it means he starts to feel like its owner. Certainly, men don’t like shops,
but they love the moment of payment confirming them in their status and the
ability to pay. When they get their wallet or sign the check, they inform the
entire world of their power. Therefore if a man is ready to pay, you shouldn’t
humiliate him with refusal, to doubt his abilities. You need to allow a man to
invest in you. There is a reasonable saying: ‘Women spend, and men invest’.
‘But during my following visit I will feel as if it’s my house too,’ Mark continued.
‘The following visit?’ I asked. ‘Are you going to leave?’
‘Certainly, I have patients and scientific work waiting!’ Mark answered.
I froze. ‘Why did you come then?’ I wanted to ask. ‘To torture me?’ Feeling that I
might say something nonsensical or burst out crying, I smiled and murmured
that I should leave for a minute. Going into the toilet, I took some deep breaths,
convincing myself: ‘Patience, just be patient’, put a smile on my face and
remembered what my aunt had taught me.
We connect the thumbs and index fingers on both hands, making the ring of
Venus, and we put our fingers at the corners of the lips, inhaling we stretch our
smile and with the fingers we lift the smile up to temples, on the pause between
breaths we fasten the smile and exhaling we release it. My eyes start to shine
brightly, I smiled involuntarily, and all negative feelings disappeared.
‘Don’t rush, let events evolve,’ I ordered to myself and with an even more
charming smile returned to Mark.
‘Is everything all right?’ he asked with anxiety.
‘Yes, everything is just fine! I said as convincingly as possible.
‘Now it’s time for dinner! Where we will celebrate our new purchases?’
‘In a restaurant! We will eat fondue,’ I offered. ‘It’s nearby, we can walk!’
Charles showed me this restaurant. ‘I haven’t seen him for a long time. Usually
he doesn’t vanish for a week. Maybe something happened.’ This thought flashed
in my head, but I drove it away.
‘Let’s go!’ Mark ordered and we set off arm-in-arm. The may sun shone, and the
spring breeze played. The shop windows with clocks and jewellery drew my look
with their glittering wares.
‘Maybe I should buy Swiss watch…’ Mark said thoughtfully, ‘To reckon a new life?’
‘A new life?’ I repeated like an echo.
‘Yes, let’s go in and have a look,’ Mark offered.
‘Certainly!’ I felt like a sleepwalker.
‘Varya, are you tired?’ Mark asked.
‘No, everything is fine! When do you leave?’ I decided to ask the question which
tortured me.
‘In two days, but I am going to take you with me!’ Mark said as if it was
something normal.
‘Take me with you? What for?’ I was absolutely confused and didn’t understand
anything.
‘Look at that ring,’ Mark said without answering my question. We passed by a
jewellery shop, and in the window was a ring with a huge diamond. The shop
assistant sat in the sun but after he saw our interest invited us in.
‘Yes, a small diamond for such diamond as you!’ he said addressing me. ‘Do you
want to try on?’
While I deliberated, Mark had already gone into the shop and examined the ring.
‘Three carats, Belgian cut, pink gold,’ the shop assistant praised the ring. ‘The
one who has a woman worthy of such a gift is a happy man.’ And he looked at
me with some envy.
‘Yes, I’m happy man,’ Mark confirmed. ‘I have a woman on whose finger I am
going to put a wedding ring!’
‘Then you made a good choice!’ the shop assistant said, and it was not clear what
he meant – me or the ring.

To contents

***
Chapter 21. Is he your man? The importance of knowing your desires

2003
‘You made a good choice,’ praised the shop assistant.

The island was probably under the special protection of Mercury, the god of trade
so we couldn’t leave it. With two huge packages of new clothes we were already
on our way to our yacht when we saw a small jewellery shop. An unusual silver
cross with azurite attracted my attention, and I, imagining how nice it would look
on Matvey’s neck of, decided to buy it for him.
‘Matvey, wait a minute,’ I asked him.
‘One more shop?!’ said Matvey in fake horror.
‘Yes, the last stroke to your sexy new look,’ I answered. I asked the shop
assistant to bring me the cross. The shop assistant removed it from the shop
window and handed it to Matvey.
‘It’s a special cross, from a monastery in Montenegro, it protects the one who
wears it,’ the shop assistant explained and praised my choice.
The dark blue azurite matched the steely colour of Matvey’s eyes, making them
softer and deeper. The cross was inexpensive, fifty dollar, so such a gift fitted to
the concept of my great-grandmother - to show attention, but not to shower the
man with gifts and emotions.
‘I hope, that it will protect you from all failures,’ I whispered to Matvey.
‘Thanks for the amulet, now I’m expected continuous success,’ he thanked me
kissing me on my nose.
Both tired and happy with our purchases and with each other, we reached the
yacht. The skipper had given up hope of our return and had cooked the fish we
bought in the morning. To celebrate our successful shopping spree we opened a
bottle of Croatian wine and lit candles. Rocking on the yacht in the waves, the
starry sky, tasty food and wine promoted a philosophical mood and thoughts
about the future. Tomorrow will be our last day on the yacht, and then we will
spend one night in Split and will return home.
‘Do you want to go home already?’ I asked Matvey. He lay with his head on my
knees, and examined stars.
‘Do I want to go home?’ Matvey murmured. ‘Do I want to go back to my lonely
bachelor den where nobody will stroke me, feed me, give me massage, please
with small gifts?..’
‘Don’t make it sound so terrible!’ I replied.
‘I just hope to get some sympathy and am begging for help!’
‘And how can I help?’
‘To leave your foolish groom and to escape with me.’
‘He isn’t foolish!’ I protected my invented groom.
‘The man with such a face as in the photos can’t be clever’, continued Matvey to
criticize Chris.
‘You didn’t like my photos?’ I asked with offended voice.
‘You know, when I saw these photos, I understood that I’m not ready to lose
you, but at the same time I couldn’t imagine being with one woman all my life.’
‘It’s the beginning of the end,’ I thought, - now Matvey will begin to explain what
prevents him from proposing with using logical arguments, remembering that I
live and work in St. Petersburg and he is in Moscow.
‘And besides it will be difficult to find a job in Moscow! And used you are to live in
your own apartment, and in Moscow we will need to rent one… he continued his
reasoning.
‘Matvey, what are you talking about?’ I pretended that I didn’t understand what
this was all about. We sat opposite each other, the huge orange disk of the moon
hung above us, and I thought that such night is perfect for the romantic
manifestation of love instead of a cold analysis of the situation. All my efforts
were in vain, I was so tried. I wanted to burst out crying, tears began to drip
from my eyes. Matvey saw how my eyelashes began to shine in the light of the
moon, and, puzzled, embraced me and put me on his knees, kissing me gently.
‘My dear girl, forgive me, I am talking nonsense. We will think something
together. Leave this coward and marry me!’ Obviously he didn’t expect to hear
these words himself. I froze and suddenly understood with all distinctness, that I
didn’t want marry Matvey, that he was right, that he couldn’t spend all his life
with just one woman, and I didn’t want to be in constant competition against all
girls who would be after him. And all this romance was just the application of the
rules I had studied to real life. I proved that they work, that any infringement is
punished with mental anguish, that men are still the same as they were
thousands of years ago, and they still chase the female which has the bigger
energetic potential. Because only such a female can help him to show himself,
and the stronger the fight, the stronger man becomes. And the female who
doesn’t want to struggle for a man loses her value in the man’s eyes. And it
doesn’t matter what they say. So I looked closely at Matvey and said, surprising
even myself:
‘It’s too late!’
1903
‘It’s too late!’ I answered Mark's proposal to marry him, being surprising myself.
During the all way from Geneva to Chamonix I was silent, asking myself whether
I wanted to marry now. Now, when such opportunities opened before me, when I
had learned and understood the main laws ruling relationships between men and
women. Maybe my aunt was right and Mark wasn’t the right man, and the most
interesting events were still ahead? Knowing the rules, I can attract and drive
mad any man: king, president, sheikh, and so on. I can change the world. Maybe
I amused myself with illusions, but before refusing them, I should find out how
unreal they are. Mark probably caught my thoughtful mood, so he too was silent.
And only when we reached Chamonix, changed our clothes and sat down on the
veranda to drink tea, did we break the silence.
‘Did you really like the ring?’ Mark was interested, taking the box with the ring
out. The sun played with all the facets of the diamond.
‘Yes, it’s very beautiful! I’m always amazed with your faultless taste!’ I answered
delightfully, admiring a ring.
‘But its beauty is nothing compared with yours!’ Mark tried to compliment me
with such cliché, so I looked at him with mistrust. He realized the falseness of his
words and tried to correct them: ‘I really like to surround myself with beautiful
things.’ It sounded even more strange, as though Mark regarded me as one of
the beautiful things surrounding him.
‘My God, Varya, I came thousand kilometres to tell you that I love you, and now
I argue about the beauty of a diamond!
Clearing his throat, Mark admitted his love for me. And, having taken the ring,
Mark put it on my finger.
‘Will you be my wife?’
But when he heard my answer, he lost his power of speech.

‘Why late? What changed in these three months?’ Mark was obviously puzzled,
not ready for such a shift.
‘I have changed!’ I was trying to convince myself more than him.
2003
‘I have changed!’ I stated the verdict to myself. ‘I really changed during this
year!’ I said aloud already with greater optimism. And approaching the mirror, I
loudly declared:
‘I have changed! Thank you great-grandmother!

Matvey and I returned from Croatia absolutely different people, as if on that

moonlight night we decided everything and no more words were needed.
But the strangest thing is that I wasn’t upset at all. Obviously, all the experiences
and emotions burned out in the moment when I made my decision that there
wouldn’t be anything more. And the program at the business school came to the
end, so we would spend only last course together.
Over this year many things had changed, and first of all, me. I felt that I need to
return to Chamonix, to meet the owner of the hotel and to ask him for more
details. Perhaps, it really is the portrait of my great-grandmother, and the call of
blood brought me to the right place. I’ll Probably be fired,’ I thought, but for
some reason this prospect didn’t upset me much. I decided: ‘I will open a school
for such little fools as I was, and will teach them the rules of the man's world and
how to control this world’.
The next morning I called my boss and informed him that I needed to return
urgently to Chamonix to settle some family matters.
‘And when will you work?’ my boss asked me quite reasonably.
‘I think that after I return I will work for two more months and then I will leave’ I
answered as softly as possible.
‘I knew that I shouldn’t allow you to enter business school. Studying doesn’t do
any good. I was told that people who get a business education leave their jobs,
but I didn’t believe it.
‘Don’t be upset,’ I tried to calm him, ‘as soon as the dizziness passes many come
back. But I really need to sort some things out. I will leave on Thursday evening
and on Monday I will be back at work. I will only miss Friday’ I began to beg with
a plaintive voice.
‘Well, well,’ the boss took pity. ‘Fly to Chamonix and bring me back a bottle of a
French wine. We will drink to the beginning of your new life.’

To contents

***
Chapter 22. The beginning of the next life, but not the last

1903
‘Well, we will drink to the beginning of your new life!’ my aunt said toasting me
with French wine.
Two weeks had passed since Mark left, and my aunt had finally arrived. I was
intensely glad of her visit. We sat at the same table on the veranda where so
recently I had sat with Mark and drank our wine.
‘To the beginning of my new life!’ I repeated. ‘However, I don’t know yet what
sort of life, but something tells me that you know.’ I looked at her with love and
exclaimed: ‘Oh, aunt! How glad I am to see you! I waited so for your arrival!’
‘I believe you, my dear girl, I believe you!’ my aunt said. ‘I see you aren’t
particularly upset about Mark.’
‘I was when he left. And I’m still not sure I made the right decision when I
rejected his offer. I had to remember all the rituals for clearing grief!’ I shared
with my aunt.
‘You see, it’s good that you had something to do.’ my aunt smiled. ‘And what
helped you most of all?’
‘I made a trip to parallel worlds! I sat down in the imagined a time machine and
sent myself five years forward and saw my future with Mark, and then I sent
myself another five years forward and saw my life without him,’ I said.
‘Did I teach you this?’ my aunt asked surprised.
‘No, I thought it up myself. It was a hard time for me, I suffered doubts over my
decision. I wanted to rush after him and beg him to return. I couldn’t sleep and
practically stopped eating. And during one of my sleepless nights I told to myself:
maybe I can’t see future, but I can feel the correctness of the choice.
And then I rose in a gold sphere up to the 107th floor and climbed 17 steps
upwards up to the 108th floor, entered a corridor of time and opened a door in a
room with a flying ship. I sat in it and mentally departed to the future. I looked
at our life together and then I looked at my life without him.’
I tried to describe my actions to my aunt in detail.
‘Yes, my dear Varya, you obviously have made a success of it,’ my aunt said
looking at me with interest. ‘And what did you see?’
‘When I got in the world where I lived with Mark, I saw us sitting in chaise
lounges on a seacoast, looking with affection at a little boy playing, apparently
our son. The picture breathed with calmness and happiness,’ I remembered.
‘And what did you see in the world without Mark?’ my aunt was obviously
intrigued.
‘I saw myself in the centre of a hall, surrounded with a crowd of laughing and
smiling young girls, perhaps my schoolmates. A man came towards me, and his
eyes were full of such love, such worship! I could see the internal force in him,
the authoritativeness, and I understood that without this meeting I would search
for something the rest of my life. You know, aunt, it would be easier if one of the
pictures was dark and gloomy and the other joyful and light. But they both were
good.’
‘Why didn’t you choose Mark?’ she asked looking at me puzzled.
‘When I returned from this journey I suddenly understood that if I returned to
Mark, I would be acting dishonestly. Even in becoming his wife I would the feel
call of that man forever. Maybe it was just freak of the imagination, in five years
time I will probably be lonely and unfortunate and I will begin to sob on your lap
and to reproach myself with nonsense,’ I looked at my aunt.
‘We always make a choice! Every second we choose this or that path, and you
have chosen the more difficult road. Because the man you talk about is one of
those who decides the destiny of the world, and he won’t look at you as you are
now at all, despite of all your knowledge and skills. You have learned only the
basic and until you understand all the male archetypes, discover new female
archetypes in yourself, you will not meet your real master.
My aunt looked at me closely.
‘Maybe it will take five years, maybe more. Who knows? You still can return to
Mark. He’s annoyed and offended but he loves you and would accept you if you
went to him.’ She added more wine to my glass.
We were silent, savouring the wine and thinking about our own lives. I looked at
the tops of the mountains turning pink in the sunbeams and thought how many
stories of love took place here. Which of these stories changed the world and
which just sunk into oblivion? I wondered too, which story I wanted to write
about my love. My aunt interrupted my reflections.
‘So we collect our things and return to St Petersburg or…’ she addressed me.
‘Or what?’ I answered with a question to her question.
‘Or you are ready to rush into the unknown and to become the real ruler the
world?’
‘And what, do I have a chance?’ I asked still deliberating about my destiny.
‘There is always a chance. Everything depends on you. You can’t avoid meeting
your other half, but you can decide this meeting will just cause you to regret or it
will change the world.’ My aunt waited for my answer.
‘But why does everything depends on me? Why can’t some man come and lift me
in his arms and carry me away to the another world. Why can’t the man find me
and tell me that I’m his destiny?’ I asked the old questions again. My aunt looked
at me sadly and said:
‘I need to repeat everything from the beginning! Because love is a woman’s
business. Because man has other tasks, and as the sights of the true judge have
noticed you, you should change from a unpolished stone into a diamond. It is
certainly a hackneyed comparison. But it’s true. And the more facets you will
have, the more looks you will attract.’
Then I remembered about the diamond I got from Mark.
‘Aunt, I completely forgot to show you the ring I got from Mark.
I rushed into the house. Returning in some minutes with a box, I showed her the
gift.
‘See what a beautiful stone,’ I said to my aunt. ‘If I left Mark, should I return it?’
I asked my aunt.
‘No, he gave it to you appreciating the time and love you gave him. So, what is
your final decision?’ my aunt asked me once again.
‘Don’t I have more time to think?’ I tried to delay the moment of decision-
making.
‘No,’ Sofia Nikolaevna said blinking her eyes.
2003
‘I have a surprise for you,’ the owner of hotel said.
So I had departed to Chamonix. And on Thursday evening was already
approaching the hotel. I looked at it with from absolutely different eyes. It
seemed to me that each stone stored memories of my great-grandmother.
Leaving my suitcases inside, I bypassed the house and approached the veranda
with a view of Mont Blanc. The sun warmed me and the summer furniture was
already placed outside. I looked on the graceful wicker table and chairs and
clearly imagined the events from a hundred years ago. Once again I looked at
mountains and then went into the hotel.
The meeting with the owner was set for tomorrow and I had the whole night
ahead me. ‘It’s interesting,’ I thought, ‘that when I entered the house for the first
time everything seemed different to me, but I needed to find that it belonged to
my great-grandmother and then everything took on a special meaning’.
Revolution destroyed many family nests and people lost a lot, but most
importantly they lost those places where they could gain strength. Unfortunately,
the understanding of this comes when your are close to your thirties, when you
start to look anew fashion at family values and at those things which were
collected with love by your ancestors. The knowledge of the history of your family
gives you strength, as if you recover the sleeping power of your ancestors.
Walking upstairs, I stopped in front of the portrait of Princess Renar once again.
‘What do you think, was I right to leave Matvey?’ I asked my great-grandmother
silently. Her huge blue eyes looked at me closely and thoughtfully and only the
two small dimples on her cheeks made her seem just a little bit crafty. My great-
grandmother didn’t reply, but just knowing that she once suffered the same
doubts here encouraged me.
In the morning I met the new owner of the hotel. Antoine was a thin but brawny
Frenchman with green eyes and dense eyelashes who looked more like a ski
instructor than the director of a hotel.
Catching my surprised look, he smiled and explained that he was an instructor
before but then went to work to Australia, and after returning some years later,
he bought this house and following restoration, opened the hotel.
‘Unfortunately, when I bought it almost everything had been sold or lost, many
had to be restored according to old photos, but, apparently, I managed to revive
the art deco spirit,’ Antoine said being proud of own achievements.
‘Yes, you really managed to do the impossible. I can imagine how much time,
strength and money it demanded,’ I praised him. He examined me closely and,
probably, came to some decision and said thoughtfully:
‘You really do look like your great-grandmother. You know,’ he smiled timidly,
‘when I looked at the portrait of your great-grandmother I thought that she was
the kind of woman I could grow fond of, and regretted very much that she lived a
hundred years ago. Even in the most courageous dreams I couldn’t imagine that
one day I would meet a woman so like her,’ he continued silently.
I looked down, embarrassed.
‘I hope that I am like in more than appearance,’ I answered silently too.
‘Then it will be interesting for you to know something about her,’ Antoine said
and, having left the table, went deep into the house. I followed him with
curiosity. We went up to the second floor and entered into the office. The
bleached French furniture transformed even the office into something easy and
airy. A little table on curved legs, a fireplace made of white marble, the open
shelves filled with books in several languages, and the picture hanging above the
fireplace with a four-petal poppy.
I felt like I had been brought to the boudoir of princess Renar. I imagined how
nice it was to lay on the crème-brulé leather sofa, to read a book or admire Mont
Blanc. While lost in my daydream, Antoine approached the graceful bureau and
took down a silver diadem which had darkened from time. ‘Here is my surprise!’
he said solemnly and handed the diadem to me. ‘When I was told that you were
interested in Princess Renar, I remembered it and decided that, it might be
useful for you to have.’
Trembling, I took the ancient diadem in my hands and, being deprived my gift of
speech, looked at the treasure which, it had seemed, was lost forever.
1903
I still was silent and lost in my memories.
I remembered once again all my meetings with Mark, all the tenderness, all the
pain, all the madness of my love, and that thanks to my aunt I had learned about
feminine energy, the state of the lover, the girl, the mistress and the queen. I
had a sensation as though I had just finished elementary school and that great
opportunities for my improvement lay open before me. And the more perfect I
will become, the greater the prize that will wait for me in the end.
‘You know, if Mark really wanted to be with you, he would not surrender without
a struggle,’ my aunt broke the silence. ‘He would flood you with letters or take
you to St Petersburg by force. But he had already made his choice. You just
prolonged the agony,’ my aunt said severely. ‘Sometimes amputation allows a
life to be saved!’
‘Aunt, why are my decisions so important? Can’t I study archetypes and at the
same time live with Mark?’ I tried to find a compromise, delaying the inevitable.
‘No. While your heart and mind are occupied with him, other men cannot
approach you. They will feel that you already have someone. It’s time to take
drastic steps,’ my aunt said. ‘We will amputate!’
‘Amputate what?’ I was frightened.
‘Silly affection!’ My aunt was unshakable.
‘Stand up and imagine that at the level of your third eye there is a beam which
snatches out of the darkness an image of Mark. Have you imagined it?
‘Yes,’ I answered.
‘Now, with your right hand make cutting movements from top to bottom and
from left to right severing this beam, removing the image of Mark from your
thoughts. Repeat these movements three times.’
I repeated them and saw with my internal eye how the image of Mark began to
thaw.
‘Now imagine this beam leaving your heart, shining with that moment when you
felt tenderness for each other.’
I imagined that moment when Mark consoled me in the snow fortress.
‘Make the same cutting movements removing this connection,’ my aunt ordered.
I chopped off this connection too and felt something pulling free of my breast.
‘And now imagine a beam at the level of your solar plexus which is snatching out
from the darkness the moment when you showed care for him.’
I remembered, how I cooked borscht for Mark and severed this connection too.
‘And now at the level of the bottom of your stomach imagine a beam showing
your most passionate scene.’
I remembered our first night, went through the delight and passion and with a
greater regret broke this connection. I stood still for some time, listening to my
own sensations and suddenly understood that I wanted to fly up. I finally felt
released from those chains which I had created for myself.
‘I am ready for new discoveries,’ I said to my aunt.
2003
‘I am ready for new discoveries!’ was all I could say, still looking at the diadem
and remembering the ancient legend. I turned to Antoine and smiled.
‘It appears that the most interesting things have just begun.
‘I agree that the most interesting things are always ahead,’ Antoine agreed. ‘Yes,’
he suddenly remembered, ‘today five women from Russia arrived and asked to
give you the invitation to an event.
‘An invitation to an event?’ I was surprised. ‘I thought that the events included
the participation of all the guests, but I know nobody and am waiting for nobody,’
I was still perplexed.
Antoine and I left the office and went down to the reception desk. I opened an
envelope and saw the nominal invitation for an event called ‘The Birth of the
Woman in the Dance of the Elements’, printed on a beautiful silvery paper.
Shrugging my shoulders, intrigued and interested, I began to look forward with
impatience for 8 p.m.
In the evening, coming down to the lobby, I unexpectedly saw Aruna.
‘How did you know I was here?’ was the first thing I asked her.
‘I called Marina and she told me where to find you,’ answered Aruna. ‘It’s time to
go, they will be waiting for us.’
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘The priestesses of the elements,’ answered Aruna imperturbably, and still I
didn’t understand whether it was a joke or if she spoke seriously. ‘Go to you
room and take the ancient diadem, it’ will be of use to you.’
I didn’t ask her how she knew about it, deciding to accept everything as it came,
and so went upstairs and took the invaluable relic.
‘For now give it to me!’ Aruna said imperiously and, noticing my confusion,
smiled approvingly: ‘It will be returned to you, don’t worry, nobody has collected
all the stones yet,’ she said to calm me and we left hotel. Aruna went confidently
through Chamonix as though she had spent her entire life here. In few minutes
we entered a deserted garden and approached a nearly ruined structure giving
off a specific smell of sulphur.
‘Where are we?’ I broke the silence
‘A long time ago there was thermal spring here. Now it isn’t used but the power
and energy of this place has remained,’ Aruna explained. And then around the
structure a circle of torches flared, transforming it into a mystical temple. Music
started playing and Aruna took my hands and led me inside. I saw a deep well in
the centre and around it there were four girls in blue, yellow, red and green
dresses. The dresses were similar to those my great-grandmother had described.
I felt uncomfortable in my jeans and the sweater. Aruna guessing my state,
handed me a white dress and a beautiful but empty box and, taking away my
things, disappeared. The music began to play louder and the girl in the green
dress, the priestess of the elements of Water, began the dance. She seemed
impudent and direct. She was not afraid to look ridiculous and cheerful. Her
dance was joyful. She gave her all to the dance; she danced for herself and
allowed others to admire her. She embodied the pleasure of life and desire which
she wanted to share with the entire world. I joined her cheerful dance, feeling
like a carefree and fun-loving girl. But the music ended and the girl in the green
dress stopped and handed me a sapphire.
‘In this stone is the spirit of the element of Water. Water gives you emotional
authority. Take it and reign over the hearts of men just as surely as you own this
stone,’ she said and disappeared. I held the jewel in my hands but didn’t know
what to do with it. Suddenly I remembered the box and cautiously placed the
stone on the soft velvet inside.
The lithe girl in the golden-yellow dress appeared. Her dance was sedate and
quiet, measured and thorough. She stepped as if stomping the ground, gaining
the strength. I tried to adjust myself to this energy but it was difficult for me to
merge with it. Therefore I felt relief when the girl in the golden dress stopped
and handed an emerald to me.
‘In this stone is the spirit of the element of Earth. The Earth gives you physical
authority. Take this stone and own the body of men just as surely as you own
this stone,’ the girl in the yellow dress said and dissolved into the darkness of
night.
As soon as I put the stone in the box the girl with a boyish figure in a blue dress
rushed into the space. She looked brave and cool, imperious and assured. Her
dance reminded me of the dance of the freedom-loving amazons, it was gutsy
and prompt. I joined it but felt, that I couldn’t get the rhythm and enter the
special state. But gradually I remembered all of the techniques for the state of
the queen and blended with the impudent and independent rhythms.
When dance ended, the girl handed me a diamond and said:
‘In this stone is the spirit of the element of Air. It gives you mental authority.
Take this stone and own the will and mind of men just as surely as you own this
stone.’ and the girl in the blue dress left. There should be still the priestess of
fire, I thought, and immediately fireworks flared around me and while I admired
the multi-coloured flames, on a stone plate closing the old spring a fire started to
burn. The invisible music played louder and the dark-haired girl in the red dress
suddenly appeared.
‘Imagine that the flames spring from your centre of passion, and repeat all the
movements after me!’ Putting her hands on the bottom of her stomach and,
having thrown off the dress, she remained naked. Only the red-gold belt
decorated her waist.
The sound of drums was heard, and the priestess of the element of Fire began
her dance. Her hips swayed like the tongues of flame, drawing eights and circles.
The rhythm accelerated and she began to move her hips forward and back, as
though making love with the fire. Her legs stood firmly on the ground, inhaling,
she directed her hips to the flames and exhaling brought them back. Gradually
the rhythm grasped me too and already a half-trance I repeated her movements
trying to keep a connection with the flame. Plunging into my sensations I didn’t
notice how a naked man had appeared beside the priestess.
Only a loincloth covered his nakedness. He was tall and brawny. He exuded an
animal passion and primitive force. He stood opposite the priestess and began to
do counter movements, inhaling as he moved his hips back and exhaling making
a strong thrust. They moved in unison, going towards each other and I stopped,
bewitched by the beauty and coordination of the movements. They slowly
approached each other and after a few moments they merged with each other,
continuing the movement. But immediately they gradually began to move apart
and suddenly the man turned to me as if inviting me to repeat the same ritual.
From him there was a powerful wave which I couldn’t resist. I made my first shy
steps being afraid to lift my eyes. Then he approached to me, lifted my chin and
with a look darkened with passion, looked at me. And taking his extended hand, I
joined in the movements.
Looking into his eyes, I began to move towards him. Gradually the rhythm and
sounds of his breath grasped me and when I felt the heat of his body against me
I was not frightened. I felt how imperiously and strongly he pressed himself to
me, and for some time we moved melding with each other. Through the fabric of
my dress and the fabric of his loincloth I felt his excitement. I shivered with
desire. The music became quieter when he released me and turned me face to
the fire, embracing my shoulders. The girl with the red belt silently came up to
me and handed me a ruby.
‘In this stone there is the spirit of the element of Fire. It gives you sexual
authority. Take it and own the desire of men just as surely as you own this
stone.
And the red girl disappeared. I stood by the fire holding the box with jewels and
not understanding what I should do next. But Aruna appeared with the four
priestesses who solemnly bore my diadem on a gold tray. In amazement I
understood that the stones ideally fit the four apertures of the diadem. The
priestesses stood around me and closed the circle. The left hand with the palm
turned upwards is the giving hand; the right hand with the palm turned
downwards is the taking hand. Aruna started speaking in a deep voice: ‘Fiery
magma from the centre of the Earth enters our feet and is directed upwards to
our womb, and from above the transparent, light and easy stream of energy of
space enters our palms and falls to our womb. And merging, these two streams
start to untwist in a whirlpool. The whirlpool rises higher and higher and,
gradually reaching the tips of our fingers, merges in one stream of feminine
energy. And by this stream of energy all the women of the world are joined, all of
those who lived before us, those who live now, and of those who will live after
us’.

‘The time of transformation has come,’ Aruna said and put the diadem on my
head. ‘I congratulate you on having passed all the circles of feminine power. Now
you should transfer this knowledge to others. When you will receive the gift of
four more stones you will be worthy to bear the wisdom and power of the true
woman throughout the world.

THE END
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***
 About the Author

Larisa Renar is a candidate of psychological sciences, biologist, psychologist,

MBA, coach. She is a creator of a doctrine of nature of woman energy, an author
of teaching novels for women.
Larisa Renar is an author of 8 best-sellers for women. Total run of her books
exceeds half a million copies.
The bestsellers – “The circle of feminine power”, “Opening the new yourself”,
“Elixir of love” – rank first in ratings of large book stores.
Larisa Renar has conducted 1150 trainings and seminars in 9 countries of the
world within 14 years.
Larisa Renar is a founder and creative director of “The Academy of the Private
Life” – a training center for women – in Moscow and Saint Petersburg, which has
partner representative offices in 35 cities over the world.
Larisa Renar regularly speaks as a psychologist-expert at large TV channels of
the CIS: “1st Channel”, “CTC”, “Domashniy”, “Friday”, “STB”. Larisa Renar is
interviewed by the largest mass media of Europe, including London-based
magazine “The Times”.
During her creative activity, she has gathered beside her huge woman audience
all over the world: more than 120,000 followers in social networks, about million
readers, hundreds of thousand viewers of her YouTube channel.
About 130,000 women have completed training programs by Larisa Renar’s
methods.

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