Touching her neat ponytail, Dimitri said, “Tania, why don’t you ever wear your hair down? I saw it down once. It looked so pretty.”

Dismissively Dasha said, “Dima, forget it, she’s so stubborn. We tell her and tell her. Why do you keep it so long if you don’t do something with it? But no. She never wears it down, do you, Tania?”

“No, Dasha,” said Tatiana, wishing for her wall, for anything, just so her flushed face would not be in view of Alexander’s quietly full eyes.

“Take it out of your ponytail now, Tanechka,” said Dimitri. “Go on.”

“Go on, Tania,” said Dasha.

Slowly Tatiana pulled the rubber band out of her hair and turned to the window, not speaking again until their stop.

In Peterhof they did not take an organized tour but meandered around the palace and the Elysian manicured grounds instead, finally finding a secluded spot on the lawn under the trees near the Great Cascade Fountain to have their picnic.

With gusto they ate their lunch of hard-boiled eggs and bread and cheese. Dasha had even brought vodka, and she and Alexander and Dimitri drank from the bottle, while Tatiana refused. Then everybody had a smoke except Tatiana.

“Tania,” Dimitri said, “you don’t smoke, you don’t drink. What do you do?”

“Cartwheels!” exclaimed Dasha. “Right, Tania? In Luga, Tania taught all the boys how to do cartwheels.”

“All the boys?” said Alexander.

“Yes, yes,” echoed Dimitri. “There were boys in Luga?”

“Like flies around Tania.”

“What are you talking about, Dasha?” Tatiana said, suddenly embarrassed. With an effort, she did not meet Alexander’s eyes.

Dasha pinched Tatiana on the thigh. “Tania, tell Dima and Alex how those wild beasts never left you alone.” She laughed. “You were like honey to bears.”

“Yes, tell us, Tania!” said Dimitri.

Alexander said nothing.

Tatiana was beet red. “Dasha, I was maybe seven. There was a group of us. Boys and girls.”

“Yes, and they all buzzed around you,” Dasha drew out, looking fondly at Tatiana. “Our Tania was the cutest child. She had round button eyes and those little freckles and not just blonde but white-blonde hair! She was like a ball of white sunshine rolling around Luga. None of the old ladies could keep their hands off her.”

“Just the old ladies?” Alexander asked evenly.

“Do a cartwheel, Tania,” said Dimitri with his hand on her back. “Show us what you can do.”

“Yes, Tania!” Dasha said. “Come on. This is the perfect place for it, don’t you think? Here in front of a majestic palace, fountains, lawn, gardenias blooming—”

“Germans in Minsk,” said Tatiana, trying not to look at Alexander, lying on the blanket on his side, propped up by his elbow. He looked so casual, so familiar, so…

And yet, at the same time, utterly untouchable and unattainable.

“Forget the Germans,” Dimitri said. “This is the place for love.”

That’s what Tatiana was afraid of.

“Come on, Tania,” Alexander said softly, sitting up and crossing his legs. “Let’s see these famous cartwheels.” He lit a cigarette.

Dasha prodded her. “You never say no to a cartwheel.”

Tatiana wanted to say no today.

Sighing, she got up from their old blanket. “Fine. Though, frankly, I don’t know what kind of a queen I’d make, doing cartwheels for my subjects.”

Tatiana was wearing a dress, not the dress but a casual pink sundress. Walking a few meters away from them, she said, “Are you ready?” And from a distance she saw Alexander’s eyes swallowing her. “Watch,” she said, putting her right foot forward. She flung herself upside down on her right arm, swinging her body in a perfect arc around onto her left arm and then her left foot, and then, without taking a breath and with her hair flying, Tatiana whirled around again, and again and again in an empyrean circle, down a straight trajectory on the grass toward the Great Palace, toward childhood and innocence, away from Dimitri and Dasha and Alexander.

As she walked back, her face flushed and her hair everywhere, she allowed herself a glance at Alexander’s face. Everything she had wanted to see was there.

Laughing, Dasha fell on top of Alexander and said, “What did I tell you? She’s got hidden talents.”

Tatiana lowered her gaze and sat down on the blanket.

Rubbing Tatiana’s back, Dimitri said, “Hmm, Tania, what else do you have in your bag of tricks?”

“That’s it,” she replied tersely.

A little later, Dimitri asked, “Dasha, Tania, how would you girls define love?”

“What?”

“How would you define love? What does love mean to you?”

“Dima! Who wants to know?” Dasha smiled at Alexander.

“It’s just a question, Dasha.” Dimitri drank some more vodka. “This is a good place, a fine Sunday, for that question.” He smiled at Tatiana.

“I don’t know. Alexander, should I answer it?” Dasha asked.

Shrugging and smoking, Alexander said, “Answer if you want.”

The blanket was too small for the four of them, Tatiana thought. She was sitting in a lotus position, Dima was lying on his stomach to her left, and Alexander and Dasha were in front of her, Dasha leaning into Alexander.

“All right. Love… let’s see,” said Dasha. “Help me out, Tania, will you?”

“Dash, you can do this. I know you can.” Tatiana didn’t want to say that Dasha had had lots of field experience.

“Hmm… love. Love is… when he comes by when he says he’s going to,” she said, nudging Alexander. “Love is when he is late but says he is sorry.” She smiled. “Love is when he doesn’t look at any other girls but me.” Nudging him again, twice. “How’s that?”

“Very good, Dasha,” said Alexander.

Tatiana coughed.

“Tania! What? You’re not satisfied with that?” Dasha asked.

“No, no. It’s very good.” But the teasing hesitation was clearly in her voice.

“What, clever clogs? What didn’t I say?”

“Oh, no, Dash. Everything. But it sounds to me what you described is what it’s like to be loved.” She paused. No one else spoke. “Isn’t love what you give him, not what he gives you? Is there a difference? Am I completely wrong?”

“Completely,” said Dasha, smiling at Tatiana. “What do you know?”

“Nothing,” Tatiana said, not looking at anyone.

“Tanechka?” said Dimitri. “What do you think love is?”

Tatiana felt she was being set up.

“Tania? Tell us. What does love mean to you?” Dimitri repeated.

“Yes, go ahead, Tania,” said Dasha. “Tell Dimitri what love means to you.” And then in a teasing, affectionate voice, she said, “To Tania, let’s see, love is being left alone for a whole summer to read in peace. Love is—sleeping late, that’s the number one love. Love is—crème brûlée ice cream; no, that is the number one love. Tania, tell the truth, if you could sleep late all summer, and read while you ate ice cream all day, tell me you would not be in bliss!” Dasha laughed. “Love is, oh, I know—Deda! He is number one. Love is this Great Palace. Love is telling us those silly jokes, trying to make us laugh. Love is, Pasha—he is definitely number one. Love is—oh! Naked cartwheels!” Dasha exclaimed with joy.

“Naked cartwheels?” asked Alexander, who had not taken his eyes off Tatiana.

Dimitri said, “Can we see those?”

“Oh, Tania! They should see how you do those cartwheels! At Lake Ilmen she would catapult herself naked five times right into the water.” Delight was all over Dasha’s face. “Wait! That’s it! That’s what you were called. The kids used to call you the cartwheel queen of Lake Ilmen!”

“Yes,” said Tatiana calmly. “Not the naked cartwheel queen of Lake Ilmen.”

Alexander was trying not to laugh.

Dasha and Dimitri were rolling on the blanket.

Throwing a piece of bread at her sister, all red in the face, Tatiana said, “I was seven then, Dashka.”

“You’re seven now.”