Max: [...] The clicking of a Kodak was heard, upon which Morolyov embraced Sergusya in a hug and informed us that our triumphant entry through the dates had been immortalized on film. Vasily Mitrofanovich urged us to the table, where he regaled us with pies and apricot brandy. Himself he enthusiastically downed several glasses of vodka, firing off a stream of talk and bustling about, creating a most welcoming atmosphere. Seryozha was hardly allowed time to swallow the last mouthful when he was sat down at the piano by Vasily Mitrofanovich to begin his Nikopol sentence of hard labour, which differed from the Egyptian variety by lasting not one day but one and half. Seryozha played through entire volumes of music, one following another until almost the complete Morolyov library was piled up on the piano desk. Around four o'clock Seryozha begged Vasily Mitrofanovich to release him so that he could have a shave, a request the latter reluctantly acceded to as he sorrowfully opened the door while already relishing the prospect of the lengthy evening concert he was villainously envisaging.