The Last of the Vostyachs by Diego Marani Page B

student hostel,’ said Olga sarcastically.
    â€˜Those days are over,’ said the professor, opening the car door for her with a smile.
    â€˜Those days are over,’ Olga agreed, pulling the collar of her fur coat up around her ears.
    Aurtova offered his guest his arm and escorted her to the door. Before leaving, he had taken the precaution of switching out all the lights in the cottage and turning the generator down to the minimum so as to save fuel. But he had left the fire alight, to ensure that the place would be reasonably warm.
    â€˜Goodness, it’s nice and warm in here,’ said Olga as she went in. At the back of the stove, some embers were still glowing. Aurtova poked the fire and added more wood. He lit the candles on the table and refilled the stove in the sauna. Then he went into the kitchen, put the wood grouse into the oven to cook and took the aperitifs and champagne out of the larder.
    The candlelight etched deep shadows into Olga’s face. She smiled brightly, her eyes following her host expectantly as he busied himself with his various tasks. Aurtova had noticed at the airport that Olga was dressed up to the nines. She was wearing large ear-rings, and a showy amber necklace hung in the décolletage of her silk blouse. She was also heavily made up: her mouth, smeared with too much lipstick, glistened greasily. Seated on the edge of the sofa, her hands in her lap, the Head of the Institute of Finno-Ugric Languages at the University of Saint Petersburg looked like a wistful housewife dressed up for a Saturday night out. Aurtova sniffed distastefully at the scent which was now beginning to waft through the warming air. He realized that he would have to give the room a thorough airing after she left.
    â€˜Tonight, as an hors d’oeuvre, the house is offering smoked salmon, followed by roast wood grouse and potatoes, with lemon sorbet as dessert. First, though, the aperitif: reindeer pâté, piirakka with rice, and champagne,’ said Aurtova, putting the tray and bottle on the table.
    Olga peered eagerly at the plate and turned her shining eyes upon her host.
    â€˜ Embarras de richesses! ’
    â€˜There’s also a bottle of vodka outside the door. For reasons of neutrality, it is neither Russian nor Finnish, but Polish,’ Aurtova added jokingly.
    â€˜An excellent compromise.’
    â€˜And, after dinner, a good soaking in the sauna.’ He pointed towards the porthole at the end of the corridor.
    â€˜Oh, goodness! Naked, Finnish style? Will we be whipping each other’s back with fir branches?’ asked Olga, blushing with excitement.
    Aurtova nodded with a grunt. For him, that would be the hardest part of the evening. He was dreading it. But he hoped that the drink would work its magic: that the sauna would be the coup de grâce and that she would pass out, delivering him from the supposed climax. He poured them some champagne and raised his glass.
    â€˜To the Finno-Ugric languages!’ he exclaimed.
    â€˜To the Finno-Ugric languages,’ repeated Olga. They drank in silence.
    â€˜By the way, Jarmo, you haven’t yet told me what you think of my Vostyach.’
    Aurtova sat himself down in front of her as they sipped their champagne.
    â€˜Well, you were right, I must admit: I was deeply moved by the lateral fricative with labiovelar overlay. It’s a sound that comes from the very depths of our history!’ he said with feigned emotion. ‘I imagine…I imagine you’ve brought the tapes with you? They will be invaluable material for the congress minutes,’ he added meaningfully.
    â€˜Of course. I take them with me wherever I go, just to be on the safe side,’ said Olga, patting the black leather bag hanging from her arm. ‘In fact, I’d like to make a copy to take back with me to Saint Petersburg, for the faculty library. Can you see to that?’
    â€˜No problem, I’ll have it done