They drank every evening - Century F has got half of box of champagne from factory of sparkling wines in a New World.
Gosha fell asleep early, slept strong, having played enough with waves on a beach, nahodivshis for a day. They had number
with a balcony, the kind on the Yalta harbour whence opened.
These some weeks in Crimea ten, twelve years ago were, probably, happiest time to her lives, and here suddenly gushed
dream on a leather sofa in an office at another's person has allowed it to return there. The sensation of happiness was is
painful-sweet, as a smell of southern night. To it did not come to mind that M. K could mix something with champagne.
This dream which has accepted it in so suddenly, possessed unexpected durability. She understood that sleeps, and at the
same time (anyway so it seemed to it) could operate freely in it at will. Such with it was for the first time.
She has looked round.
Apparently it was in a room of the hotel, one. Darkly. However number was familiar to it - that where it once stopped since
Century F and Gosha. The balcony door has been opened.
It has risen and has approached to the door. The warm wind moved a curtain. A long narrow balcony, an arch of the Yalta
quay. Should be, not too late - below under palm trees a lot of walking.
It has returned to number, without lighting light, has quickly gathered naoshchup. Has put on a skirt, shoes, has found a
handbag, has checked up a room key, a purse.
What is year? It went on quay together with walking, not quickly and not slowly. If to judge on clothes, it is similar to the
beginning of the sixtieth. Those years when she had really a rest in Crimea. She has thought that can meet at any moment
Century F and Gosha. And can, and?
Under a lantern it has stopped, has brought to the person the hands. The skin on the back party of palms was a pale and
old, winter skin of the woman of forty years with something. It has gone further.
It remembered that its main problem, in the sleep or in reality, there were Gosha's searches in winter snow-covered Peter, but
for some reason this excursion in the past did not seem to it flight. She has thought of a key. Whether can here, in Yalta the
sixtieth, to be hidden a key to the present?
In a stall the broth in thick glass tumblers and pies with meat was on sale. It took a broth glass, has looked round.
Nearby there was an open terrace of restaurant.
Numerous little tables. A ring of glass, a bottle, a plate, sudki. Table-talks merging in homogeneous noise.
At an extreme little table sat three men two from which have seemed to it acquaintances. She has looked narrowly more
attentively. Yes, precisely. One of them, undoubtedly, was M. To. In other it was possible to learn the looked younger
professor. She only saw it few times, but aggravated by alarm for Gosha the sight could not be mistaken.
The third man was much more senior - grey-haired, round-shouldered. It sat to it in a profile, but, strangely enough, and in it
something was guessed familiar.