The idea of releasing the portrait of his mother for public viewing disgusts Sergei because of the scandal, the insult of her being exposed, and the rumors it will stir. Exhibiting the portrait will make life unbearable. Her suicide, her affair, the fallen woman will be the talk of the town all over again. And, once again, Sergei will be nothing but her son, the son of that poor woman, if you can call her that….

“All that matters is the quality of the portrait, not the gossip surrounding it. This is the Hermitage we’re talking about, Sergei! Be sensible!”

Claudia ignores the idea of a scandal; she wants to divert Sergei’s attention and change the subject. “We must rise to the occasion as the situation requires. We’ll say that we’ll happily show the portrait to any expert they designate for valuation. That they should get a professional opinion. A specialist should come and evaluate it. We won’t say a word about our instincts—don’t think I misunderstand you—but this isn’t about us, it’s about Russia’s artistic heritage. Is it a true work of art or not? That’s what matters. And we don’t know! We’ll reply that it’s a great honor that his majesty has asked about the portrait, but that the portrait is of sentimental value to us, nothing more. And that we’re not qualified to judge whether it’s worthy of becoming part of the collection in such an important museum.”

“You mean they should send someone to do a valuation.”

“Precisely. If it really is an important work of art, it will be its quality that matters, not the gossip. It won’t be your mother on exhibit, but a work of art. Only works of art should hang in the Hermitage, because that museum is the pride of Russia.”

“We’ll tell them to come and see for themselves whether the portrait we own is no better than a Constantin Guys—that French painter who was just pilloried in the papers.”

“Exactly, Sergei. That’s what I’m saying.”

This solution satisfies Sergei, but only for a moment. He refills his glass and his wife’s. He lets the froth settle and says, “No, I don’t think so. We’ll have to leave town, that’s the only way, we’ll have to make that one of the conditions. Uncle Stiva always dreamed of Texas … of leaving Russia, crossing the ocean, living on the great prairie, where the horses are wild and the cattle roam free, the good Apache people….”