It is a well-known fact that of all the species on earth Homo sapiens is among the most adaptable. Settle a tribe of them in a desert and they will wrap themselves in cotton, sleep in tents, and travel on the backs of camels; settle them in the Arctic and they will wrap themselves in sealskin, sleep in igloos, and travel by dog-drawn sled. And if you settle them in a Soviet climate? They will learn to make friendly conversation with strangers while waiting in line; they will learn to neatly stack their clothing in their half of the bureau drawer; and they will learn to draw imaginary buildings in their sketchbooks. That is, they will adapt.

A game of their own invention, Zut’s rules were simple. Player One proposes a category encompassing a specialized subset of phenomena—such as stringed instruments, or famous islands, or winged creatures other than birds. The two players then go back and forth until one of them fails to come up with a fitting example in a suitable interval of time (say, two and a half minutes). Victory goes to the first player who wins two out of three rounds. And why was the game called Zut? Because according to the Count, Zut alors! was the only appropriate exclamation in the face of defeat.

“Why do you furrow your brow so, Sasha? However the table is arranged, we always have such delightful conversations when we dine.”
“However the table is arranged!” the Count would exclaim. “Delightful conversations! I’ll have you know, dear sister, that careless seating has torn asunder the best of marriages and led to the collapse of the longest-standing détentes. In fact, if Paris had not been seated next to Helen when he dined in the court of Menelaus, there never would have been a Trojan War.”

Nina eyed the Count with an expression of seasoned tolerance, and then presumably for his benefit, spoke a little more slowly.

“I understand that a princess should say please if she is asking for a cake, because she is trying to convince someone to give her the cake. And I suppose, if having asked for a cake, she is given a cake, then she has good reason to say thank you. But in the second part of your example, the princess in question didn’t ask for the cake; she was offered it. And I see no reason why she should have to say thank you when she is merely obliging someone by accepting what they’ve offered.”

To punctuate her point, Nina put a lemon tartlet in her mouth.

“I shall work upon my posture,” Nina said quite definitively, brushing the crumbs from her fingers. “And I will be sure to say please and thank you whenever I ask for things. But I have no intention of thanking people for things I never asked for in the first place.”

“Why is it that our nation above all others embraced the duel so wholeheartedly?” he asked the stairwell rhetorically.

Some, no doubt, would simply dismiss it as a by-product of barbarism. Given Russia’s long, heartless winters, its familiarity with famine, its rough sense of justice, and so on, and so on, it was perfectly natural for its gentry to adopt an act of definitive violence as the means of resolving disputes. But in the Count’s considered opinion, the reason that dueling prevailed among Russian gentlemen stemmed from nothing more than their passion for the glorious and grandiose.

True, duels were fought by convention at dawn in isolated locations to ensure the privacy of the gentlemen involved. But were they fought behind ash heaps or in scrapyards? Of course not! They were fought in a clearing among the birch trees with a dusting of snow. Or on the banks of a winding rivulet. Or at the edge of a family estate where the breezes shake the blossoms from the trees. . . . That is, they were fought in settings that one might have expected to see in the second act of an opera. In Russia, whatever the endeavor, if the setting is glorious and the tenor grandiose, it will have its adherents.

По мере того как мы постепенно стареем, мы начинаем утешать себя мыслью, что кардинальные изменения в образе жизни могут произойти только в течение нескольких поколений. Перед праздниками мы достаем из буфета старые семейные рецепты, написанные рукой родственника которого, вполне возможно, уже нет в живых. А мебель в наших домах? Восточные кофейные столики и столы заботливо передаются из поколения в поколение. И хотя эти предметы уже «вышли из моды», мы их очень ценим и считаем, что они украшают нашу жизнь а также доказывают то, что все изменения в мире происходят постепенно.