BIRTH
The orchards and vegetable gardens of Moscow had finished blooming. The air was stifling.
An occasional bee would wonder inside a window, buzzing heavily, presaging rain.
Inside the neighboring yard of the princes Hovanski, two washer women were fighting, lashing each other with rolled up wet laundry.
And up in the sky there floated a kite--kids were gamboling around.
--Gah, said the invalid. --Will pour me the last one.
Of course, if you are pushing seventy and you are stuck as second major, the evil Fate augurs plainly: general-en-chief you, dear boy, will never be. This prediction caused the major of our troops a long-standing dejection of spirits as well as regular consumption of vodka which he chased with dried carp.
The year 1732 established itself in Russia.
*snip*
After the first born daughter, Marfinka, the Potemkins had a second-Mariushka and Aleksandr Vasilich suspiciously closely stared at the infant's visage.
--It looks too much like the Glinkas-declared he suddenly--This isn't a Potemkin nose and the eyes are all wrong.
--What are you talking about, nose, eyes--wailed the wife--newborn babies all look the same.
A horrible blow to the face sent her crashing on her back...The old man was crazed with jealousy. From now on he kept his wife under lock and key, reluctantly letting her out for the guests.
*snip*
--Beast!--she screamed at her husband. --Stop torturing me. I am with child again. Wait til I give birth, then finish me off...
The golden autumn of 1739 arrived. On September 16, towards the end of the day Daria Vasilievna felt the labor approaching and withdrew to a banya that was crumbling on a bank of a quiet forest stream. Here, writhing on the bench, she gave birth to a son.
Her menacing husband came in and demanded: --With whom had you conceived this filth, tell!
He picked up the baby by the foot, like it was a loathsome toad, and went to drown it in the river. --That's where you belong--he was muttering, drunkenly stumbling along the way.
The infant, hanging upside down, didn't make a peep. Potemkin shook the baby one more time over the deep pond where catfish rippled lazily and black crawfish crawled.
--So whose is he? The Glinkas' or the Tuhachevskys'?
The mother's animal howl sounded in the dark forest:
--He is Potemkin...Leave off, you old cur!
Thus came into the God's world Grigori Aleksandrovich Potemkin, the Enlightened Prince Tavricheski, general field-marshall and the brilliant cavalier of assorted orders, including all foreign (with the exceptions of the Golden Fleece, the Holy Spirit and the Garter), general-governor of the New Russia, creator of the glorious Black Sea Fleet, its first commander, etc., etc., etc.