A Gentleman in Moscow

by Amor Towles

Until, suddenly, that long-strided watchman of the minutes caught up with his bowlegged brother at the top of the dial.

“An asparagus server,” he explained. “Does a banquet really need an asparagus server?” “Does an orchestra need a bassoon?”

“He is wearing out the carpet behind the potted palms.” “Wearing out the carpet . . . ?” The Count stuck his head out of the Shalyapin as Arkady leaned cautiously behind him. And sure enough, there on the other side of the lobby was the gentleman in question, making quick business of the ten feet between the pair of plants.

“Whoa,” she shouted. “Whoa!” Apparently unfamiliar with equine commands, the wolfhounds leapt again and, freeing themselves from the

But the Russians were the first people to master the notion of sending a man into exile at home.

Nina used her thumb to wipe the tears away from one side of her daughter’s face as Sofia used the back of her hand to wipe them away from the other.

What are you doing up? it was meant to say. Were you so profligate with your daylight that you must hunt about for things to do in the dark?

But I am certain that you are up to the challenge. If you are ever in doubt, just remember that unlike adults, children want to be happy.

“Yavas . . . Where is that?” “Somewhere between where the wheat is grown and the bread is eaten.”

and the second was Montaigne’s maxim that the surest sign of wisdom is constant cheerfulness. But