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I was satisfied. And Merkuloff, judging by the way he sat with his head in his hands, was at long last thoroughly bested. Professor Matzneff was vindicated. How pleased my mentor would be when he, in his exile, learned the news.

Triumph was to be added to triumph. Vorsin personally led me from the stage. Students pressed around me, clapping, whistling, cheering, even laughing with delight. The senior professor raised his palm to silence them. But the noise continued. Behind me, like a conquered tyrant, crept Merkuloff. With his own hands Professor Vorsin put my cap upon my head. He ordered Merkuloff to ‘fetch the troika’. I asked if there was anything I could amplify for him. ‘All that will come later,’ said the generous old man, ‘when we both have more time and when you are rested.’ I assured him I had no need of rest. I had not felt so well for many a month. I suppose that it was impossible for him to believe that such mental expenditure was not automatically accompanied by physical exhaustion. Needless to say, I was sustained by the injection of cocaine and would eventually need to sleep, but not at that moment.

I was taken out into the quadrangle. Vorsin’s personal horse and troika stood ready. Students were still cheering. I heard snatches of their phrases: ‘It’s the great Kryscheff!’ ‘He’s Galileo and Leonardo rolled into one.’ I bowed. I waved. Again they cheered me. Again the kindly Vorsin tried to silence them. I was flattered by his thoughtfulness. He apologised for not being able to accompany me himself. My own professor would see me safely home. It was obvious that Merkuloff was reluctant. He frowned. He began to remonstrate. He was not ‘qualified’ to go with me. This was a change of tune! It was my turn to show magnanimity. It would be a pleasure, I said, to have his company in the troika. In awe, he climbed in to sit beside me. With a friendly acknowledgement to the senior professor, to the noisy students, I gestured for the driver to whip up the horse. Then we were off at the old St Petersburg lick, bells jingling, moving almost as swiftly as my thoughts, while I enlarged on my ideas to the open-mouthed Merkuloff. He could still not find the words to tell me how he had misjudged me.

‘The Special Diploma will, of course, be very welcome,’ I assured him. ‘But my future interest will chiefly be in government work.’

He said he was sure the government would supply my every need. I was pleased with his perspicacity, ‘It is materials and supplies I require. Then I can begin to build.’

He said I should try to look after myself. I was over-excited.

‘That’s hardly possible at the moment,’ I reassured him. ‘My dilemma is whether I should remain at the Polytechnic, perhaps to help with the teaching, or whether I should lend all my talents to the War Effort?’

This was something, he said, which had to be carefully considered. Perhaps it could be discussed next term ‘after I had rested’. I pointed out, again, that I was at my peak. It would, however, be convenient to have more time to myself. He agreed. He suggested I take a sabbatical while the necessary meetings were held at high level. There would not be time this term to go into every detail. The staff would have to meet government representatives the following term. He suggested I wait until I heard from the Polytechnic. This fitted in with my plans. I agreed, it will also allow time to prepare my Special Diploma.’

He had been thinking of much the same thing. We galloped through glowing mist. A white night was looming. As we neared Petersburg proper, he asked me where I lived. I decided not to give him my poorer address. I told the driver to go to the house by the Kryukoff Canal where my virgins lived.

At the entrance, I was greeted with more fawning by the old Polish woman. Now she addressed me as ‘your honour’. Evidently she astonished Merkuloff. He still had his cold, and was blowing his nose heavily. He explained that I was over-tired. She should make sure I rested. He said someone, perhaps himself, would come to make sure I was all right. I told him this would be unnecessary. The Polish woman was puzzled but said I might be her own son. Professor Merkuloff’s attitude towards me had at last completely changed. He said that she was a good, kind woman. I had delicate sensibilities. I must have every comfort. I must rest my brain as well as my body. If a doctor were needed, the Institute would send one. I patted him on the shoulder, to show that I appreciated his magnanimous acceptance of defeat. ‘The girls are like sisters,’ said the Polish hag. ‘They will know what to do.’