Belozersky stood with his book firmly clutched in both hands, staring at Lanier as if he had been insulted. "What is this supposed to be?" he asked. Yazykov opened his volume hesitantly.

"Read it for yourself," Lanier suggested.

"It is Dostoevsky," Belozersky said. He traded books with Yazykov. "And Aksakov. These are supposed to interest us?"

"Perhaps if you would look at the printing dates, gentlemen," Lanier said quietly. They opened their books, read and then closed them sharply, almost together.

"We must explore these shelves thoroughly," Belozersky said. He did not sound happy at the prospect.

Mirsky held his book open in both hands, thumbing through it and returning several times to the publication notice, once touching the date with his finger. He closed the book on his thumb and tapped its spine on the surface of the reading table, looking up at Lanier. The second chamber library seemed, if anything, darker and gloomier than before.

"This tells the history of the war," Mirsky half asked, half stated. "It is an accurate translation of the English edition?"

"I believe so."

"Gentlemen, Mr. Lanier and I must be alone for a few minutes. Comrade officers, you will please wait with General Gerhardt and his men, and you will take our men with you."

Belozersky placed the book on an empty reading table and Yazykov followed suit. "You should not be long, Comrade General," Belozersky said.

"As long as it takes," Mirsky said.

Lanier had brought along a canteen half-filled with brandy, hopeful of just such an opportunity. He now poured out a cup for each of them.

"This is much appreciated," Mirsky said, lifting the cup. "Special service," Lanier said.

"My political officers would accuse you of trying to get me drunk and pump me—that is the idiom?—for information."

"There's not enough left to get drunk on," Lanier said.

"Pity. I am not strong enough for. . . this." Mirsky gave the library two widely spaced jabs with the empty cup. "Maybe you are, but I am not. It frightens me to death."

"You'll find strength after a while," Lanier said. "It's as attractive as it is frightening."

"You have known this for how long?"

"Two years."

"I think I will let others find the attraction," Mirsky said. "My people will now have access to all this—unrestricted, any of us, the soldiers and officers, too?"

"That's the agreement."

"How did you learn to speak Russian? In school?"

"In the third chamber library," Lanier said. "It took me just over three hours."

"You speak like a Muscovite. One who has been overseas for a few decades, perhaps, but still. . . a Muscovite. Could I learn English that quickly?"

"Probably."

Lanier split the last of the brandy and they toasted each other.

"You are a strange man, Garry Lanier," Mirsky said solemnly.

"Oh?"

"Yes. You are turned inside. You see others but don't let them see you."

Lanier did not react.