"Vladimir and Natalia, God bless you!"

I shuddered. No one had ever called our names together. I asked:

"Why do you, father, call our names like that together, after all, nothing has been decided yet. Will Volodya return from the front again?

- Vladimir is not the one with whom you correspond. And God bless you. VLADIMIR and NATALIA. And whomever you think of, it is better not to write to him, he is not intended for you.

Continuing to pray silently, the priest repeated: "The blessing of the Lord will come upon you, Vladimir and Natalia." After blessing me on my journey, Father Isaiah saw me off with love, passing on his blessing to my parents.

The 44th, 45th passed and the 46th year came. I continued to study and correspond with Volodya Danenberg, who finally returned from the war healthy, to the joy of all of us and his parents. Volodya often came to us, because we lived not far from each other. He and my brother Sergei were friends, and my mother liked Volodya very much: tall, with elegant manners, well-mannered, polite... And on his face there were traces of a burn received at the front. He joked, he was witty, it was fun with him. He accompanied us to the garden, helped us dig the ground. If we walked together, he took me by the arm, which made me feel somehow uncomfortable, even disgusted, like touching a toad. I was not attracted to him, I would gladly go somewhere far away for the summer... And I was already studying at that time at the Stroganov University, where we were given tasks for the summer — to write, draw, etc. And half an hour from Moscow, you won't be able to paint from life, there is nothing suitable, and from the windows of a Moscow apartment you can see only monotonous walls. Where to find beauty?

The first feelings of youth

When I was about sixteen years old, my brother wanted to teach me how to ride a bicycle. I would have been happy to learn, but as soon as Kolya let go of the saddle by which he was holding the bike, I fell to the side. Two or three falls - and I firmly decided not to get on the bike anymore. Some inner voice kept repeating to me: "If you are crippled, then how will you become a mother?" But this voice resounded imperiously in my soul when something threatened my body. And not only my body, but also my soul was forced to protect me from sin, temptation, and filth because of this voice. From the age of fourteen I stopped reading secular literature, because images, feelings, and concepts began to crowd in my head, which distanced me from the Lord, polluted my soul, and prevented me from praying, that is, from being with God. I caught myself being inattentive in class, and all day long I was dreaming of an interesting book that captured me completely. So, I read only what was required at school and for education, but not for my hobby. The word "sex" was unfamiliar to us in those years.

Our friends the Eggerts, who lived near Moscow, gave us a part of their huge plot for cultivation. We raised virgin land and planted cucumbers, carrots, tomatoes, turnips and other vegetables there in the beds, which could not be grown on collective plots, since these vegetables required individual care and watering. By the end of the war, we had six vegetable gardens, where we planted mainly potatoes. I always went to these plots with my father, and I often went to the Eggerts alone. The beds had to be watered in the morning and evening, so I sometimes stayed overnight at our friends' house. But the situation in their family had changed by that time: the owner was in prison (they found fault with the German surname), his mistress worked in Moscow, and the house was managed by his grandmother. They let the tenants into the house. They were officers from a military school not far from their home. My childhood friends, Lucy and Vera, lived with my grandmother in the summer, helping her in the garden. I have always met them.

One morning, as I entered the terrace, I saw a handsome young officer sitting at the table reading books. Passing by, I politely said "hello" and nodded my head. Then I met this officer again and again on the terrace, since the entrance to the house was through the terrace. The young man soon met me, as I had to ask him where my girlfriends were, or where my grandmother had gone, when she would return, etc. He was always friendly, slender and looked elegant in his military uniform. Seeing the books that I had taken to read on the train, Nikolai began to ask me to give him something to read. I gave him the first thing I came across, but he called it "children's literature" and asked for something more serious. But in those years, I could not give him something spiritual, and I did not read secular and refused him. However, he began to stop me constantly when I had to pass him. I don't remember what he talked to me about, but I remember that I didn't understand him well. In his speech there were some ambiguities, some expressions that were new to me, which, as it seemed to me, scratched at my heart, which made me hasten to leave, making excuses for work. And there was really a lot of work to do. I thinned out carrots, weeded weeds, watered, loosened ... In general, I never sat down on the terrace, never satisfied the officer with my (at least briefly) presence in his company. And yet I was drawn to Valentinovka, I wanted to meet him again, to see him. One day, my friends told me:

"Come with us to the dance tonight." You hear the orchestra playing in the distance, you can dance with the officers. Nikolai wants to make friends with you, he likes you, and he will be waiting for you.

I answered that I did not know how to dance, I was very tired during the day and went to bed early. But the girls insisted:

"Well, just take a walk, the evening is so quiet and cool, the nightingales are singing. And Nikolai begs you to come out to him.