Chapter 137

All around us there was nothing but a thick forest of dark, snowy conifers, and for two or three miles there was nothing else until we came out into a clearing, where—well, there was snow too. Snow everywhere, in May. The white figure of what looked like a small palace was drawn before our eyes as we advanced along the road. The old Russian architecture was beautiful, evident in the wooden window frames, carved with indecipherable shapes and figures, the gabled roof, and the painted wood panels that covered much of the front. It reminded me a lot of a Swiss chalet, due to the number of windows and the mix of stone, wood, and tiles used on the walls and roof. It was as big as a respectable mountain hotel; it had three floors and a deep porch, with carved columns and a magnificent view of the white meadow and, surely, the lake in the distance.

The time it took for Ivan to circle the building and access the underground parking seemed like an eternity, and I was grateful for it. T