“I'm here to see Father Superior Alexei,” I said to the nun who opened the door to me at Moscow's Gate Church of the Intercession in the Novodevichy Convent. It was dark inside and her head was slightly lowered, so even though she was nearly as tall as me I couldn't see her face.

“Follow me please,” she said, “I'll call him.” And then she hesitated and asked: “What is it about?”

I suspected she had no call to pry into the reasons why her superior wanted to see me and might even be reprimanded for this sort of unecclesiastical curiosity betraying, perhaps, a shade of worldly vanity, but at that point we were standing in the light streaming from a window and the nun looked up.

“I … I … He … He wanted to … to interview me,” I began to stammer, “to teach English … to a group he's putting together … of monks and nuns … nuns and monks … I mean I've been recommended to him by my lecturer in English … at … Moscow State University … named after Mikhail Vasilyevich Lomonosov … Department of Psychology …”

“Dear me, I'm not sure I can take all this in at once,” she laughed, “but if you wait here I'll call Father Alexei.” Her laughter was warm and musical—and somehow intimate. When she left, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.