“You should never have gone to Tsarskoye Selo to see the tsar. What madness! Why would you knowingly put your head in the lion’s mouth? And they call the tyrant ‘father’! They’re done for! How on earth could you go? You’re crazy! What a relief to know you’re here, and safe.”

“The tsar refused our letter.”

“Yes, yes, I heard you, you don’t need to explain. Vladimir, what did you expect? A message enjoining him to come to St. Petersburg tomorrow to hear the prayers of his ‘children’? Another stupid Gaponist…. Never mind, you’re here now.”

Vladimir is ashamed of his naivety; the color of his complexion gives him away. Red as a strawberry, he changes the subject. “But why is no one here today? What’s happened? Where are all the seamstresses? And the children who help make the lace? Are they going to shut down the workshop?”

“Police orders, Vladimir. They don’t want laborers gathering in this part of town this weekend. They forced all the workshops near the Nevsky to shut down. So much the better for me: they might have taken me prisoner, identified me, come after my colleagues here in retaliation, and blamed them for something they had no involvement in…. And they would have found you here! I would never have forgiven myself…. I never thought you’d use that picklock again, we agreed….”

“Forget the stupid picklock. Slow down, I’m not following you. Does this mean that … ?”

“Yes, Vladimir. Today was my mission. Propaganda of the deed!”

“Today?”

“You’ll never imagine what happened: I planted a dud … a faulty bomb! It didn’t explode! It hardly even made a noise, as if it didn’t have any explosives in it. What a failure.”

Clementine embraces him again, shaking.

“Calm down, Clementine. Look on the bright side: no one died. Calm down.”

“I’m holding you because I want to….”

Clementine recovers her composure.

“It’s over now.”

“Not completely. I failed, though it wasn’t my fault. I left the bomb before we had planned to because they suspended the tram service. Boring details…. The fact is, the bomb was good for nothing. If only you had made it!”

“I don’t make bombs, Clementine. I used to repair watches, which is quite different.”

“But you know how to make explosives. If you had made it …”

She steps away from Vladimir again. She changes her attitude. She’s completely revitalized. Handsome Clementine, a one-of-a-kind woman.

“Clementine … I don’t make bombs. Understand?”

“Giorgi is coming to get me out of here at eight. Do you want to come with me? We’ll take you to the Haven? Will you give Gapon the news?”