101. Artizov and Naumov,
102. Remark dating to 1928, as cited in Drabovitch,
103. Yagoda had commissioned a twenty-volume Russian translation of Rolland’s collected works and assigned oversight of the task to the Russian-French Maria Kudryashova; Rolland had married her, and she accompanied him as interpreter. “Stalin did not look anything like his portraits,” Rolland wrote in his diary. “He is neither large nor stocky, as he is imagined . . . His characteristic coarse dark hair is beginning to turn gray and lighten . . . But as before he has a direct and vigorous visage and enigmatic smile, which is (or can be) cordial, impenetrable, indifferent, good-natured, implacable, amused and mocking. In all situations, a perfect self-control. He speaks without raising his voice, with a timber a bit nasal and guttural at times (a Georgian accent, I’m told), with long pauses, to think things through. He listens still better than he talks, noting the principal points of what I said, scribbling with blue and red pencil on a piece of paper while I spoke. (I greatly regret not having asked him for that sheet.)” Rolland,
104. Stalin did not let on that he had personally edited the draft of the law. “Moskovskii dnevnik Romena Rollanda,” 221–2. That night, after returning to the Savoy hotel with his wife, Rolland was approached by Antonio Gramsci’s two sons, aged nine and eleven, who thanked him for all he had done for their father (imprisoned in Mussolini’s Italy). On the law, see
105. Besides a certain hero-worship, Rolland’s purpose had included inquiring about the fate of the writer Viktor Kibalchich, known as Viktor Serge, who had been born in Brussels to Russian Jewish political émigrés from tsarism, emigrated after the revolution to the Soviet Union, and had been arrested in Leningrad (March 9, 1933) and internally exiled for “Trotskyite” propaganda. (Rolland would leave without being satisfied.) Serge’s case had been forced into the discussion at the international gathering in Paris. Vinogradov,