“Then, you could enter the Soviet Union.”

“Of course.”

“You could get into Latvia.”

“I don’t see why not.”

He grew very excited. “You could take me with you,” he said hurriedly. “You could show me the way, you could help me, and you could sneak me into Latvia and to Riga and reunite me with Sofija, and we would never have to be separated again.”

“I… wait a minute.”

He looked at me.

“You would return to Latvia?”

“I cannot live without Sofija, Evan. Better to live in slavery with Sofija than in Rhode Island without her.”

“But your work with the Army-”

“I could be of even more assistance to the Army if I lived there. I could send bulletins back. I could do organizational work-”

“That’s not what I meant, Karlis. Don’t you understand? They know you there, they know of your work with the exile movement. You’d be arrested at once.”

“I could disguise myself.”

I looked at him dubiously.

“I could, Evan.”

“As what? A tree? A mountain?”

“Evan, I cannot live without her!”

And then, because my cognac bottle was very nearly empty, and because what had been in the bottle was now in me, and because one’s inability to sleep does not preclude the possibility that alcohol, in sufficient quantity, will addle the brain, I said something very stupid.

What I said was, “Karlis, you are like a brother to me. And Karlis, my brother, I can do much more for you than deliver you into slavery in Latvia. I can go to Latvia, Karlis, and I can find your Sofija and I can bring her back to you, and the two of you can then live in Providence for the rest of your lives, and you can get married, and you can have children together, and you can grow old together, and you can have grandchildren together, and-”