he took Mrs. Clement’s bag, studiously leaving the girl to handle hers, said, “Come with me,
please,” and led the way toward his vehicle, an old but well-kept blue Lada.
All the slow way to Professor Bayeva’s house, as he guided the car carefully around the
potholes in the road, Sergey kept up a gentle patter of conversation.
“Professor Bayeva told me Mrs. Clement was famous journalist,” he said, glancing into
the rear-vision mirror.
“Oh not that famous,” Mrs. Clement said with a smile. “I just write travel articles for
magazines.”
“And you plan to write on Uglich?” he went on.
“And other towns nearby, I’m writing a series about the Golden Ring. I’ve written about
Moscow and St Petersburg in the past, but never come here.”
“Oh, here much better than big cities! Here you find real Russia. Real heart. And real
soul.”
“Well, that’s certainly what I’m looking for,” said Mrs. Clement.
Encouraged by her reaction, Sergey launched into full flow. “Uglich, most beloved of all,
because of Saint Dimitri you understand. You have seen his church from river? Is beautiful,
da?”
“Oh yes,” agreed Mrs. Clement. “Enchanting.”