He looked at his watch: half past three. Outside the window the night was beginning to grow pale. Alexe'i studied the room, the outlines of the furniture, and thought, almost calmly, But of course! He's going to turn me in! In a flash, all the strange elements he had ignored the evening before coalesced into an inescapable logic. The professor, who never went to bed late, had opened the door at the first ring, fully dressed. His wife, without whom he could not go anywhere, was absent. So was Lera. In the bedroom, it was as if everything had been ready to receive a guest… No, he won't turn me in, he'll simply open the door to them…

He jumped out of bed, threw on his clothes, fastened the catch on the door, climbed out through the window…

At the start of the path he and Lera generally took to go and bathe in a pool, he hesitated, turned toward an old shed behind the house, sat down on a chopping block, and decided to wait. He did not have to wait long. From the far end of the main street that divided this cluster of dachas in two came the sound of an engine. The car stopped. In the still nocturnal silence he heard the sound of banging at the door, the whispering of men's voices, and more distinctly, in imploring tones, but striving to preserve his dignity, the professor's voice: "Comrades, you promised me… He's a delicate young man. I beg you! I'm sure his parents – " Someone cut him off in an irritated tone: "Listen, Professor, don't stick your nose in something that doesn't concern you! You'll get your chance to speak when you're being interrogated."

Hurling himself along the path, Alexe'i heard the hammering coming from inside the house.

Much later, when he was well versed in the pitiless mania life has for playing at paradoxes, he would come to realize that in reality he owed his survival to the Germans.