Ainsley J. Fothergill aka Peter Ouronov:
When I was having long sleepless nights, I used to try to repeat verses to myself.
Countess Alexandra Vladinoff:
You had sleepless nights?
Ainsley J. Fothergill aka Peter Ouronov:
In Siberia.
Countess Alexandra Vladinoff:
What verses?
Ainsley J. Fothergill aka Peter Ouronov:
Oh, Shakespeare, Browning, Shelley.
Countess Alexandra Vladinoff:
But, they're English poets. Have you been a student in Petrograd?
Ainsley J. Fothergill aka Peter Ouronov:
No, at Oxford.
Countess Alexandra Vladinoff:
But it was very seldom that Russian students went to Oxford.
Ainsley J. Fothergill aka Peter Ouronov:
My father wanted me to go to Oxford.
Countess Alexandra Vladinoff:
I see. Say some of your verses. Browning.
Ainsley J. Fothergill aka Peter Ouronov:
Browning. You must know, "Fear death?" "Fear death?-to feel the fog in my throat, The mist in my face - " Oh, I bet I am boring you.
Countess Alexandra Vladinoff:
Go on.
Ainsley J. Fothergill aka Peter Ouronov:
Well, just the end. I admire it. "For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, The black minute's at end, And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, Shall dwindle, shall blend, Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain, Then a light, then thy breast, O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, And with God be the rest!" Do you like it?
Countess Alexandra Vladinoff:
It's optimistic. That's the English. Listen to a Russian poem. It is hopeless and pessimistic, like we Russians. "I have grown weary of my little dreams, I have outlived the hour of my desire, Alone with tortured empty heart, I weep..."

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