Paul and Gamay returned to their cottage and showered away the salt and sweat from their nautical adventure. Gamay changed into designer jeans that emphasized her long legs, a blazer and lilac camisole. Paul had not left his fastidious sartorial habits behind. He wore loose tan slacks with a Gatsby-style pale green shirt and a violet bow tie.

Some of the other inhabitants of the camp were assembled at or around the picnic table. The Trouts were greeted by the middle-aged couple they had met earlier, a tall intense-looking physicist who resembled the writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn and a young married couple, both engineering students at the university in Rostov. The table was set with an embroidered tablecloth and colorful china. Japanese lanterns lent a festive air to the gathering.

Orlov broke into a beaming smile when he saw the Trouts' approach. “Ah, my American guests. You look lovely, Gamay, and you are handsome as usual, Paul. A new bow tie? You must have an endless supply of cravats.”

“I'm afraid my addiction is starting to get expensive. You don't know anyone who makes cheap throwaway bow ties, do you?”

The professor roared with laughter and translated for the others. Then he directed the Trouts to the seating that had been saved for them, rubbed his hands in anticipation, and went into his cottage to start the meal moving. Dinner was salmon-filled pirogi, basically Russian turnovers, served with rice and a clear borscht. The professor also had a case of the famous Russian champagne that was made in nearby Abrau-Dyurso. Even without vodka and a common language, dinner was loud and friendly and extended late into the evening. It was nearly midnight when the Trouts pushed themselves away from the table and begged to be allowed to go back to their cottage.

“The party is just starting!” Orlov bellowed. His face was red from alcohol and sweaty after serenading the other diners with an energetic rendition of a bawdy Russian folk song.

“Please don't stop on our account,” Paul said. “We've had a long day, and it's starting to catch up with us.”

“Of course, you must be very tired. I've been a poor host, making you sit here and listen to my attempts to sing.”

Paul patted his stomach. “You've been a great host. But I'm a little older than I was when we used to drink the night away at the Captain Kidd.”

“You're obviously out of training, my friend. One week here and we would have you back in shape.” He hugged both Trouts. "But I understand. Would you like Yuri to escort you?”

“Thank you, Professor. We'll find our way,” Gamay said. “See you in the morning.”