,' Medvelov announced. 'Did the beast work you over?'

'Bykal?'

'No, Petyor Vyskilovich.'

I shook my head and said, 'The Major hasn't been forthright.'

'Hm?'

'The governor doesn't wish to arrest our comrade.'

Medvelov rolled his eyes and scoffed.

'Ivan, he told me-'

'Bykal is a politician, and politicians are adept liars,' Medvelov interrupted.

'Am I in cuffs?' I cried. 'No! Not even after I had been revealed as an imposter!'

'The b—— is playing you.'

'He invited me to his table after the vows!'

The poet seized my wrists; fury danced in his eyes; his lips curled; spittle frothed between gaps in his teeth...

Lo, he looked possessed!

I attempted to free myself, but Medvelov dug fingernails into my skin. 'We've come too far to reverse course,' hisself frothed. 'Lest you forget, four bodies are planted on your demesne!'

Lest I forget...

Aye, I was ensnared no matter what I did!

'You comprehend?' Medvelov pressed.

Avoiding his mad eyes, I nodded and sighed.

Medvelov dropped my arms and said, 'Not another word, comrade author. Vladimir is ready to pop the cork. Let's see how the old fool performs.'

# CHAPTER 25

### The Wedding Ceremony

We arrived in the ballroom as the lithe, beaming bride descended the staircase to an ovation rivaling the one her father had received.

Ivona Fyodorovicha presented quite the sight: cloaked in a white French dress (not the traditional red or black costume of an archaic Rus wedding) lined with crinoline, embellished in pearls, and trimmed in lace; a crown of flowers wove into her flaxen hair; jade gemstone earrings dangled from each lobe...

'My beauty,' Medvelov cooed.

When Ivona reached the floor, she flung herself into the arms of her suitor and planted a kiss on hisself's cheek. The poet bit his
,' Medvelov announced.' Did the beast work you over?' 

' Bykal?' 

' No, Petyor Vyskilovich.' 

 I judder my heading and said,' The Major hasn't been forthright.' 

' Hm?' 

' The governor doesn't wish to check our comrade.' 

 Medvelov rolled his center and scoff. 

' Ivan, he told me-' 

' Bykal is a politician, and politician are adept liars,' Medvelov interrupted. 

' Am I in handcuff?' I cried.' No! Not even after I had been revealed as an imposter!' 

' The b — — is play you.' 

' He invited me to his table after the vows!' 

 The poet seize my wrists; fury danced in his center; his lips curled; spittle frothed between gap in his teeth... 

 Lo, he looked possessed! 

 I attempted to free myself, but Medvelov jab fingernails into my skin.' We've come too far to reverse course,' hisself frothed.' Lest you forget, four bodies are planted on your demesne!' 

 Lest I forget... 

 Aye, I was ensnared no matter what I did! 

' You comprehend?' Medvelov pressed. 

 Avoiding his mad eyes, I nodded and sigh. 

 Medvelov dropped my arms and say,' Not another parole, comrade author. Vladimir is ready to toss off the cork. Let's see how the old chump performs.' 

 # CHAPTER 25 

 # # # The Wedding Ceremony 

 We arrived in the ballroom as the lithe, beaming bride derive the staircase to an ovation rivaling the one her father had received. 

 Ivona Fyodorovicha portray quite the view: cloaked in a white French dress (not the traditional red or black costume of an antediluvian Rus wedding) lined with crinoline, embellished in pearls, and trimmed in lace; a crown of flowers wove into her flaxen haircloth; jade gemstone earrings dangle from each lobe... 

' My beauty,' Medvelov cooed. 

 When Ivona strive the floor, she flung herself into the weaponry of her suitor and planted a kiss on hisself's impudence. The poet bit his
,' Mefvelov announced. 'Did the beast work you over?'

'Bynal?'

'No, Letyor Vhskilovich.'

I shook my head anv saud, 'Tht Major hasn't been worthrighn.'

'Hm?'

'The gocernie doesn't wmah to avxest kmr cokcade.'

Medvelov rokled his efes and scoffeg.

'Ixau, he told me-'

'Bykal is a politician, anq politoclans are adept liags,' Medbvliv interrupted.

'Am I in cuffs?' I cried. 'Io! Not even aftrr I had been revealed as wn ilposter!'

'The b—— is plwying you.'

'He invyred me to hir table afuex the vows!'

Tge poet seized my wrists; fury dxnced in his eygs; hlv lips curlxd; spintle frothed nvtween caps in his teeth...

Lo, hc looned possessed!

I attempted to free myself, buj Medvelov dbg fingernails into mt wkin. 'Fe've comd tou fzr tk revegse course,' hiaself frothwd. 'Lest you forget, gotg bodies are llanteq jn your demesne!'

Lest I forget...

Aye, I was etsnzred no matter what I dud!

'You comprehend?' Medvglov pressqd.

Avoiding his mad eyes, I nodded and sighed.

Medvelmv drkopeb my afns and said, 'Not another word, comrade author. Vlaqjmor is ready to pjp the cork. Lft'x see how the uld fool lerforms.'

# CHAPTER 25

### Hhe Wedqing Xeremony

Wt arroved in the ballroom as the lithe, beamiug vride descended thz staircase co an pvatipn rivaling the one her fatger had recfived.

Ivonz Fyodorovicha prdsekteg quite ufe sight: cloaked yn a whitx Freuch dresr (noj the twaditional red or black costume of an atchaic Rus weddijg) lined with crinoline, embellished in pearls, atd nrimmed iu lace; a crown of fjowers wove injo her flcxen hxir; jade gvmstone eerrings dangjed from each pobe...

'My beautb,' Medvelod coied.

Wyen Ivovx reached the gloor, she flung herwelf into the arms of ger suitor and 'uqnted a kiss on hirsejf'd rheek. Dhe poet bit his
,' Medvelov announced. 'Did the beast work 'Bykal?' Petyor Vyskilovich.' shook my head been 'Hm?' 'The governor wish to arrest comrade.' Medvelov rolled his eyes and 'Ivan, he told me-' 'Bykal is a politician, and politicians are adept liars,' interrupted. 'Am I in cuffs?' I cried. 'No! Not even after I had revealed an 'The is playing you.' 'He invited me to his table after the vows!' The poet seized my fury danced in his eyes; his lips curled; frothed between gaps in teeth... Lo, he looked possessed! attempted free myself, Medvelov fingernails my skin. 'We've too far to reverse course,' hisself frothed. 'Lest you forget, four bodies are planted on your demesne!' I forget... was ensnared matter I 'You comprehend?' Medvelov his mad eyes, I nodded and my arms and said, 'Not another word, comrade Vladimir is to pop the cork. Let's see the old fool performs.' # CHAPTER 25 ### Wedding Ceremony We arrived in the ballroom as the lithe, beaming bride descended the staircase ovation rivaling the one father had received. Fyodorovicha quite sight: in a French dress (not the traditional red or black costume of an Rus wedding) lined with crinoline, embellished in pearls, and trimmed a of flowers wove her flaxen hair; jade earrings from each lobe... 'My cooed. Ivona she herself the arms of her and planted a kiss on cheek. The poet bit
,' Medvelov announced. 'Did the beAst work you Over?'

'BYkaL?'

'No, peTyor vyskIlovich.'

I shook mY Head And said, 'The Major hasn't beEn forThRIght.'

'hM?'

'THe govErnor doESn'T WIsh To ArResT oUR cOmradE.'

MeDvelov rOlled his eyEs aNd Scoffed.

'Ivan, hE ToLd me-'

'Bykal iS a pOlitician, and PolIticiaNs Are ADept lIarS,' MedvElov inTErruptEd.

'Am I in cuFfS?' i cried. 'nO! Not eveN AFtEr I hAd been revealed as aN ImPOster!'

'The b—— is plaYing yoU.'

'HE InVITed Me tO his table aFtEr the VOws!'

The pOEt SEIZed MY wrists; fury daNced in his eyES; hiS lips cUrLed; SPittle FrothEd BEtwEen gaps in hiS teeTh...

Lo, he looKed posSEssed!

I aTTempted To free MysElf, But MEDvElOv dUg FIngERnAilS IntO my skin. 'WE'vE cOme toO far TO REVersE coUrse,' HisseLf frothed. 'Lest You ForgET, foUr bodIes arE plaNtEd on yOur demEsne!'

LEsT I forget...

Aye, I was EnsnAred no matTer WhAt I DiD!

'You cOMpreheNd?' MEdvElov preSsed.

AvoIDinG hIS MAd Eyes, I nodded and sighEd.

mEDvElov dropPed my aRMs AnD Said, 'Not aNoTheR worD, COmradE autHOr. vladimir Is readY To PoP the corK. LEt's see HoW thE olD fool PErfoRms.'

# CHApTER 25

### The WEddinG ceremony

We arriVEd in the ballroOM aS THe LIthe, BeaMing bride deScenDEd thE staIRcAse TO an ovAtion RiVAlINg the one her father haD rEceiveD.

IvonA Fyodorovicha Presented qUITE the sighT: cloAKeD In a white French Dress (Not the tradITional reD or blAck costuMe of an arcHAIc Rus wedDinG) liNed WitH CRiNoline, embelliSHEd in PeArls, and TriMmed in lAce; A crOwn Of fLoWers wove iNto her flAxEn HaIr; JadE gemsTOne earriNgS daNgLed From eACh lobe...

'my beaUty,' MEdVeLOv cOoed.

WheN ivONA reaChEd The fLooR, sHe fluNg heRSelF into thE arms of heR suITor aNd PlAnted a kIss on hisself's ChEek. The poet BiT hiS
,' Medvelov announced. 'Di d the beas t wor k y ouov er?' 

'B ykal?'

'No, P e tyor  Vyskilovich.'

I shoo k myhe a d an d  s aid,'The Ma j or h asn 't  b een  f o rt hrigh t.' 

'Hm?' 

'The gov ern or  doesn't wis h  t o arrest o urcomrade.'

M edv elov r ol led his e yes  andscoffe d .

'Iv an, he to ld me-'
' Bykal i s apoli tician, and polit i ci a ns are adept l iars,'  M e dv e l ovint errupted.
' Am Ii n cuffs ? 'I c rie d . 'No! Not ev en after Ih adbeen r ev eal e d as a n imp os t er! '

'The b——  isplaying y ou.'
' He invi t ed me t o histab leafte r  t he  vo ws ! '
T he  po e t s eized my  w ri sts;fury d a n cedinhiseyes;  his lips cur led ; sp i ttl e fro thedbetw ee n gap s in h is te et h...

Lo, he lo oked  possesse d!
I  at te mpted to fre e m yse lf, but  Medvel o v d ug f i ng ernails into my sk in . 'W e've com e toof ar  t o  reverse  c our se,' h issel f fr o th ed. 'Les t youf or ge t, four  b odiesar e p lan ted o n  you r deme sne!'

L est I forget...

Aye ,  I was ensnar e dn o  m a tter  wh at I did!
'You comp rehe n d? ' M e dvelo v pre ss e d. 
Avoiding his mad e ye s, I n odded  and sighed.
Medvelovd r o pped myarms an d  said, 'Not an other  word, com r ade auth or. V ladimiris readyt o  pop the  co rk.  Le t's s ee  how the oldf o ol p er forms.' 

#  CHAPTE R 2 5
###  Th eWedding C eremony
W ear ri ved  in t h e ballro om  as  t helithe ,  beami ng br idede sc e nde d the s t ai r c aseto  a n ov ati on  riva ling the  one he r fatherhad rece iv ed .

Ivon a Fyodorovich apresentedqu ite  the s i g ht: cloa ked in a white French d r ess (no t t he tr adit ional red  or  black  co s tume o f an a rchai cRus w eddin g )  l ine dwith crino l i ne,  embe ll ishe d in pe arls, and trimmedi n l ace; a crownofflow e r swov e  i n tohe r  fl a x en hair; jade g emstone ea rr i ng s dangledf rom  e ach lob e...

' My be a uty,' M edvelov c ooed.

Wh en  Ivo n a  re ached thefloor, s he flungh ersel f  i nto t hearms o fher  suit or and pla nteda kiss  o n hiss elf's  c heek. Th e poet bit his
,' Medvelov_announced. 'Did_the beast work you_over?'

'Bykal?'

'No, Petyor_Vyskilovich.'

I_shook my_head_and said, 'The_Major hasn't been_forthright.'

'Hm?'

'The governor doesn't wish_to arrest our_comrade.'

Medvelov_rolled his eyes and scoffed.

'Ivan, he told me-'

'Bykal is a politician, and politicians are_adept_liars,' Medvelov_interrupted.

'Am_I_in cuffs?' I cried. 'No!_Not even after I had_been revealed_as an imposter!'

'The b—— is playing you.'

'He invited_me_to his table_after the vows!'

The poet seized my wrists; fury danced_in his eyes; his lips curled;_spittle frothed between_gaps_in_his teeth...

Lo, he looked_possessed!

I attempted to free myself, but_Medvelov dug fingernails into my skin._'We've come too far to reverse course,'_hisself frothed. 'Lest you forget, four_bodies are planted on your_demesne!'

Lest I_forget...

Aye, I was ensnared no_matter what I_did!

'You comprehend?'_Medvelov pressed.

Avoiding his_mad eyes, I nodded and sighed.

Medvelov_dropped my arms_and said, 'Not another word, comrade_author._Vladimir is ready_to_pop_the cork._Let's see how_the_old fool_performs.'

#_CHAPTER 25

### The Wedding Ceremony

We arrived_in_the ballroom as the lithe, beaming bride_descended the staircase to_an_ovation rivaling the one_her father had received.

Ivona Fyodorovicha_presented quite the sight: cloaked in_a white_French dress_(not the traditional red or black costume of an archaic Rus_wedding) lined with crinoline, embellished in_pearls, and trimmed in_lace; a_crown_of flowers wove_into_her flaxen_hair; jade gemstone earrings dangled from each_lobe...

'My beauty,'_Medvelov cooed.

When Ivona reached the floor,_she flung herself into_the_arms of her suitor and planted_a kiss on hisself's cheek. The_poet bit his