Dimka laughed. Natalya was one of the smartest people in the Kremlin, as well as the prettiest. Flushed with gaiety, her wide mouth open in a laugh, she was enchanting. Dimka could not help comparing her with the weary, bulging, sex-averse woman at home, though he knew the thought was cruelly unjust.

Natalya went to the bar to order snacks. Dimka realized he had been here more than an hour: he had to leave. He went up to Natalya with the intention of saying good-bye. But the beer was just enough to make him incautious and, when Natalya smiled warmly at him, he kissed her.

She kissed him back, enthusiastically.

Dimka did not understand her. She had spent a night with him; then she yelled at him that she was married; then she asked him to go for a drink with her; then she kissed him. What next? But he hardly cared about her inconsistency when her warm mouth was on his and the tip of her tongue was teasing his lips.

She broke the embrace, and Dimka saw his secretary standing beside them.

Vera’s expression was severely judgmental. “I’ve been looking for you,” she said with a note of accusation. “There was a phone call just after you left.”

“I’m sorry,” said Dimka, not sure whether he was apologizing for being hard to find or for kissing Natalya.

Natalya took a plate of pickled cucumbers from the bartender and returned to the group.

“Your mother-in-law called,” Vera went on.

Dimka’s euphoria had now evaporated.

“Your wife has gone into labor,” Vera said. “All is well, but you should join her at the hospital.”

“Thank you,” said Dimka, feeling that he was the worst kind of faithless husband.

“Good night,” said Vera, and she left the bar.

Dimka followed her out. He stood breathing the cool night air for a moment. Then he got on his motorcycle and headed for the hospital. What a moment to be caught kissing a colleague. He deserved to feel humiliated: he had done something stupid.

He parked his bike in the hospital car park and went in. He found Nina in the maternity ward, sitting up in bed. Masha was on a chair beside the bed, holding a baby wrapped in a white shawl. “Congratulations,” Masha said to Dimka. “It’s a boy.”

“A boy,” Dimka said. He looked at Nina. She smiled, weary but triumphant.

He looked at the baby. He had a lot of damp dark hair. His eyes were a shade of blue that made Dimka think of his grandfather Grigori. All babies had blue eyes, he recalled. Was it his imagination that this baby seemed already to look at the world with Grandfather Grigori’s intense stare?

Masha held the baby out to Dimka. He took the little bundle as if handling a large eggshell. In the presence of this miracle, the day’s dramas faded to nothing.

I have a son, he thought, and tears came to his eyes.

“He’s beautiful,” Dimka said. “Let’s call him Grigor.”