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\markboth{\quad \small \em Ina Kwartin \hfill}{\hfill\small 
\em My brother\quad}

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\title{MY BROTHER}


\author{INA KWARTIN}

\address{Jerusalem, Israel}

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I was lucky.  I was born younger.  My older brother has been with me
my whole life. He was an altogether special person, very noble and
generous, a foreigner to things kitsch and to banality.  When I was a
child, he spent a great deal of time with me.  During that difficult
period parents had to spend almost the whole day at work, and in many
households children were left to themselves.  At my home I had my
brother, who was never a ``babysitter'' to me and never gave the
impression that I was a burden to him.  Being together was
interesting.

Misha studied a good deal, and read a great deal.  His range of
interests was unusually diverse; he was interested in history, politics,
philology and linguistics, studying foreign languages all on his own.
Often, when he had come across something especially interesting, which
intrigued his imagination, he would tell me about it.  While at school
the amount of time spent preparing for his classes was always a minimum;
almost as a rule classes were uninteresting to him, since in the
humanities Misha's knowledge always surpassed the demands of the
school and possibly even the knowledge of the teachers.  The exercises
in physics and mathematics were far too easy for him.  Nevertheless,
Misha studied physics and mathematics above and beyond the demands of
the school curriculum.  Loving to solve problems of increased
complexity, he often attended the meetings of mathematical and physics
circles and took part in physics and mathematics competitions, which
were conducted by Moscow State University.

The level of these competitions was very high, not comparable to the
usual city competitions conducted by the Ministry of
Education.  The University led competitions were held in three rounds on
Sundays as a rule, so that it usually happened that the Sundays
during March and April were all occupied by these competitions.  He
successfully performed in physics as well as in mathematics and 
as a rule won one of the first three awards (each award usually was 
shared by several winners) and came home with 
a prize, a pile of books on the subject. 

Like many adolescents of the time, Misha was interested in collecting
stamps; he had amassed an excellent collection, which was
unfortunately lost during the move to Israel.  His collection never
took on any monetary character, but each stamp had its own
history, many reflecting the histories of their countries, their
becoming independent colonies during the turbulent 50's and 60's,
political juntas, revolutions, wars, the changing of borders, monetary
reforms -- all this was reflected on the stamps.  Misha knew them in
detail and could say much about them.  
Misha became interested in
photography, and in a cramped place, in our room in our communal
apartment,\footnote{%
\,[Where different families occupied rooms in the same apartment sharing 
the bathroom and kitchen.]} 
under the table, draped on all sides with towels,
would develop film from a narrow-film German camera, and then would
print the photographs himself.  These small, black and white
photographs are now especially precious to us. 

For a while Misha played chess, and even was a champion of his high
school, which was not a minor achievement, taking into account the
fact that chess was a very popular game then. But Misha decided that
if he was going become involved in sports, he'd rather do an
athletic kind.  He believed that sport was a must for
everyone, but at that time one could be accepted to sport class only
if he decided to make it a professional career. Of course, Misha
could not leave everything else for sports. For a few years he practiced
fencing but finally quit when it became too time consuming.

 When Misha was around 16, we were on vacation with our mother in 
Druskinikai, a small town in Lithuania. When I was splashing in the river, 
a strong undertow nearly carried me away, and I started drowning. 
Misha carried me to the shore, so that I didn't even have time to get 
really scared, but then Misha 
decided that he had to teach me to swim. I don't know when Misha learned 
to swim, for me it was natural that Misha, being an older brother, knew 
everything. He taught me to swim rather quickly, and we used to go to 
the swimming pool for many years together. We even participated in the 
swimming competition for ITEP (Institute of Theoretical and Experimental 
Physics). 

It often happened that Misha would find something out, something that
astonished his imagination or simply something that he liked and that
interested him.  In these cases he loved to share with me this new
thing, but would always make allowances for my age and would recount
it in such a way that I was never bored and never found it uninteresting.
Misha gave me advice as to what books I should read and in what
order.  For example, he would say it wasn't a good idea to read
several books by the same author in a row, so that their impressions
would not be dulled.

In general, Misha saw to my upbringing very seriously.  He even
attended parental meetings in place of my parents.  I studied well,
and over-all there were no problems with any of my teachers, except
for the occasional chat during class.  This upset Misha a good deal
and he always would say that I need to simply use the time in class
for my own independent studies.  In subjects of the humanities it is
possible to read books about that subject, and in extreme cases even read
the textbook, eliminating the need to do assignments at home.  I know
now, having already reared my own children, how difficult it is for
children, especially for teenagers, to keep from chatting and laughing
with their peers, and back then I suffered from my own
good-for-nothingness and inability to attain Misha's ideal.

Misha was always ready to help me in school, if something needed to be
explained, however he tried so that I would not get in the habit of
asking for help, but would do everything on my own.  Only if every
possibility was used up, and I still hadn't solved the problem, would
I ask Misha to help me, even more so because I was ashamed to go to
him with a stupid question and disturb his work.  In this way I learned
to use encyclopedias, dictionaries and reference material and sometimes
Misha would point me in the right direction, where I could find the
answer to the question at hand.  

I also liked to share with Misha all the new and and unusual things I
learned. This became a lifelong habit. Then, when we each had our own
families and were not able to meet often enough, it became necessary,
if only by telephone, to exchange opinions about current events and
tell each other about the new things, read in books and intriguing the
imagination. 

Strangely enough, throughout the years Misha never acquired the ``good
sense'' of maturity, but his world outlook remained young and acute, and
his reaction to events remained very emotional.  He had a
very well developed sense of justice, instantly detecting insincerity,
depravity and falseness.  He never got bogged down by minor problems.
He would advise me, saying that if something upset me, or if someone
was conducting himself in an improper manner, that I should no
longer associate with that person.  Now I often seek advice from him
in my mind, imagining how he would evaluate this or that situation and
how he would react.  To me, he is still the ultimate authority.

In our lives in those years it was easy to fall into a state of
debasement, become the object of insults mocking our Jewishness.  
Misha was never about to tolerate
this; he taught me to be proud of my Jewishness and not to be ashamed of
it and try and hide it.  He suffered our history, one of exile and
misfortune, as if all of it happened in our own time and with himself
personally. He bragged about Jews who tried to defend their dignity;
for example, he told me about the revolt of Bar-Kochba and the ranks
of the Jewish defense organized  in a few towns and places during the
pogroms. 

For as long as I can remember myself, Israel was always for us an unobtainable
dream, a place where Jews could be a valued people and shed their
complex of being exiled.  Our father would tell us about his cousins,
who were exiled from the Soviet communist heaven for Zionism and in
this way were able to reach Palestine already during the 20's and
beginning of the 30's. One of them, who did not leave in time and was
able to survive during the Second World War, was sentenced for Zionism 
afterwards and was locked up  in Soviet camps for many years.  I think that 
if father had been old enough during the 20's, he, too, would have left.

At the beginning of the 60's Misha discovered a teach-yourself
textbook of Hebrew in the Lenin Library, printed during Tsarist times
at the beginning of the twentieth century.  It was impossible to take
the book home, but one could order microfiche. 
 Misha had it copied in this way and we studied Hebrew
with a small slide projector we had from our childhood.   At that
time, Misha bought at a bookstore the Hebrew-Russian dictionary by Shapiro,
which had just come out and immediately  became a bibliographical
rarity. We studied in those times more for our own pleasure, not even
thinking about the possibility  that there would be a time we could 
practically use
this knowledge.  It is interesting that the textbook (author Riklis)
was published before the real revival of Hebrew, and what we studied
was Ashkenazi, Hebrew with an Ashkenazi pronunciation, which as it
followed was not accepted in Palestine, as the Sephardi variation won
over. 

In '67, during the Six Day War, we lived on news from the front, happy
and proud because of Israel's successes; father didn't leave the radio
receiver, in an attempt to make something out through the Soviet jamming 
of stations Voice of Israel, the BBC and Voice of America.  In general,
since childhood I got used to the fact that we had our own world at
home, which differed greatly from the those surrounding us, and being
a child at the time I understood that what was said at home was not to
be discussed with anyone, not even with my closest friends, even though
nobody ever forbade me and this was never explicitly explained. Misha
and father were always discussing current events, supported by
information from foreign radio stations and extracted from Soviet
newspapers by the method of ``reading between the lines." In the reign of
lies in which we lived, we succeeded in keeping our inner freedom.

Misha graduated from high school a valedictorian (with a gold medal), 
but the question of what to do next was far from simple. It was
clear that many higher education facilities, Moscow State University included,
were practically closed to Jews.  With Misha's abilities there was no question
that he should attend the best educational facility possible, so he
decided to apply to Moscow State University.  Usually for medal winners
to be admitted  it was enough to pass the admission interview successfully.
 If the interview was not successful, it was still  possible to take 
the general admission exams.  Exams at the university were a little earlier 
that at other higher educational facilities, so that is was possible, in case
of failure, to try to enter another facility.

Here comes one of interesting episodes about Misha.  After the admission 
interview
there was a little bit of a wait for the results  and
father went to see the admission committee.  Father, also a college teacher
(he worked in the radio technology department of
the Institute of Energy), approached one of 
the committee members, explained to him that he was also a teacher
and asked what chances did Misha have.  Father was very
worried, he almost didn't believe that they would accept
Misha to the University, and wanted to have enough time to pass
Misha's documents to another institute for an admission interview of medal 
winners there.  The committee member was very
attentive; he found Misha's file, opened it and, carefully
looking father in the eye, said, ``I recommend you to  withdraw  his
application.'' What luck father didn't follow his advice!
He was able to understand that the ``adviser'' was not benevolent, but
simply an anti-Semite trying by any means not to admit a Jew. 

Later, when it was clear that Misha had been accepted, father again
stopped by the admissions committee.  The secretary opened the folder
with Misha's papers, and there father saw the decree: ``Accepted
in the highest rank'', meaning Misha passed the interview with flying
colors!  This was the famous year of 1956, after the twentieth Communist
Party Congress, when it seemed that the foundations of the empire had
shaken, and, although it was still too soon to think of a democracy,
at least the competition at the university was relatively fair.
  That year an unheard-of number of Jews was  accepted, but 
after that everything returned to its prior state.

During his years at the University,  as well as  during high school,
Misha spent much of the time at home at his desk.  He quickly figured
out which courses were worth attending and which courses he could
miss without much harm so as to use the remaining freed-up time more
effectively for studying on his own.  Of course, the books at home no
longer served for his studies at the University, so he sometimes had to study 
 at the library.  Misha always studied those subjects that interested
him more widely and profoundly than the curriculum demanded; I don't
remember him preparing for a specific exam, it seemed that he took them 
with a huge surplus, having
studied intensively throughout the entire semester.  I don't remember
Misha going to any parties  at high school, neither
at the University.  This was not because he didn't have friends or
anyone to go with, but simply, he wasn't interested in parties.

Instead he loved kayaking and camping expeditions,
choosing quite difficult routes.
Before the trip he met with his friends, they
chose their route, divided their responsibilities and
bought the necessary food and supplies.  There were especially
many kayak trips over the rapids in Karelia, Lithuania and Komi,
though Misha was just as serious about his winter skiing trips.  I
remember one, at Kolsky peninsula, where his legs almost got
frostbitten. When I grew up, Misha started to take me along if
the route was not too difficult.  When I think of those years, what
first comes to mind are these trips, as there was probably
nothing more interesting in my life.

It was then I was introduced to many of Misha's friends, fascinating
people, many of whom Misha knew from the University, and many he worked
with at ITEP  (I still have till this day preserved good relations
with a few). At one such trip I met the young couple Inna
and Sasha Dolgov.  I believe that they were hardly more than
twenty years old at the time, as they had just  graduated from PhysTech 
[Moscow Physico-Technical Institute] and
Sasha began to work at ITEP.  Throughout the span of our lives they
were close; after Misha's marriage the families became friends and in
the difficult refusnik years we highly appreciated their support.
After our repatriation to Israel, Misha could only see them
rarely, when they happened to be at international 
meetings. Misha was so happy when the
opportunity came along for Sasha to come for a few months  to work at
the Weizmann Institute in Rehovot.

During that terrible year, when Misha became ill, Inna and Sasha Dolgov
 were
supposed to come to Israel for the second time; Misha longed for them
and lamented the fact that he felt poorly and could not regain his
shape. He again had plans, as he did for their first trip, to
travel around the country and show them the interesting sites he so
loved. These plans were never realized, as Misha was overcome by
his illness and, again, Sasha and Inna were near during one of our
most difficult times and supported us.

Then, almost forty years ago, we, all four of us, began a camping
trip in two kayaks: Sasha with Inna and Misha with myself.  We were
all happy and joyful, we swam in Lithuania's and Belorussia's most
beautiful rivers.  A little later we were joined by two other kayaks,
the Terentev family and another couple, Yuri Simonov and Alla
Badalyan.  Such wonderful, intelligent and very decent people; Misha
valued their friendship throughout the years.

On one of our river trips in Karelia a terrible misfortune happened: Misha 
accidently cut open his leg with an ax. The wound was
serious, the nearest civilization was far away and there was no road.
Two of Misha's comrades from the University, D.~Nikiforov and the
late V.~Nikolsky set out on foot for the nearest village and
persuaded a half-drunk driver to drive up as near as possible to the
camping spot.  It was necessary to somehow get Misha to the car
despite the absence of roads and we carried him in turn.  Everyone was
aware of the seriousness of the situation, but tried to keep calm and
even made attempts at jokes to diffuse the tension.  The way to the
hospital took several hours and toward the end, still in the car,
Misha lost consciousness due to the loss of blood.  The whole time he
didn't once complain about the pain, but was upset at all the trouble
he had caused his friends.  He was operated on in a provincial
hospital and when he had gotten a little better we were finally able
to return to Moscow, Misha was very very upset that he had ``ruined'' my
camping trip.  

The year '57 was the middle of Khrushev's monumental agricultural program, 
and, after his first year in the university, Misha, together with his fellow 
students, was sent to the Kustanai region in Kazakhstan. 
It was the first time Misha left home for such a long time, 
and we 
missed him, but his letters were quite happy. I remember Misha's return very 
clearly. He got off the train, tanned, with a new beard, smiling his wonderful 
smile. He only said that it is a pity that he caught flu on his last days 
there. After several days at home, when this mysterious ``flu'' did not go 
away, mother convinced Misha to get a blood test. She, as a doctor, saw that 
his illness does not look like a regular flu. Indeed, as we know now, his 
blood tests showed that Misha had been exposed to radiation.  Then nobody knew 
that precisely when Misha was there,  an experimental nuclear explosion had 
been performed nearby.  The poor students all 
got a severe dose of radiation. Misha was sure that this episode was 
the origin of his fatal illness, because too many students that were there 
with him later became sick and some of them died of different forms 
of cancer. Indeed, Misha had lung cancer, which is very rare for a person, 
who never smoke. On that summer of '57 Misha slowly recovered, but most of 
his once beautiful and thick hair fell out. Still, Misha considered 
his summer away from home as a rather pleasant experience, and warmly 
recalled his friends, especially Boris Voronov. 

Having graduated from the University, Misha vacillated on which
direction of research he should take. I remember how he and father
discussed this.  While still a student Misha passed the famous "Landau
Theorminimum", which in all the years less than 50 people had passed.
This was a series of meetings with L.D. Landau. Each time Misha
received one or more problems, each taking a few days to solve,
sometimes a week (I don't know if the amount of time needed to solve
them was limited), and then he returned to Landau with the solved
problems and received the next ``portion''.  In a sense this was
similar to the competitions, where at every level a part of the
participants were weeded out.  Misha successfully passed all the
levels and could have begun his scientific work under Landau's
tutelage. As I remember it, Misha was one of the youngest, if not the
youngest, to pass all the levels of Landau's exam, since the majority
of participants were young physicists who already had their Masters.
Misha began to do research already as an undergraduate.  He tried
different directions in search of the most interesting for himself.
It was very prestigious to begin one's scientific career under Landau,
however Misha, wavering, finally chose the theoretical department at
ITEP, whose line of research interested him more.

The work at ITEP was very interesting and productive.  This was real
research and not just ``doing'' a candidate dissertation [Russian
analogue of Ph.D].  Even more so, when it was already clear that there
was more than enough material for his dissertation, and it was
necessary to write everything down, Misha kept putting it off, because
he was in the middle of writing an interesting paper or solving a
problem. We all joked that he had decided to surpass his candidate
dissertation so he could go directly for a Doctor of Science degree
[the highest degree in Russia, an analogue of professorship].

 Misha's papers were published in physics journals and he was sometimes
invited abroad to conferences or seminars, however leaving the Soviet
Union was out of the question.  Misha was very upset about this because 
during these years of energetic development in physics it was necessary
for scientists to communicate not only via publications, but face to face.
Soviet physicists were deprived of this, cut off from the rest of the
world, and were only able to talk to foreign physicists when they
traveled to the Soviet Union, these being isolated events.

Apart from the natural professional desire to participate at
interesting conferences and seminars in different countries, Misha
also dreamed of seeing the world.  He read so much and knew so much
about the culture, language and history of so many nations, it was
only natural for him to want to see everything with his own two eyes.
Not once we discussed his choice of profession. I asked, why
specifically he had chosen physics.  He answered half-jokingly, that
he always wanted to dig to the very source of the making of the world,
and indeed, he studied the most fundamental of fundamentals, subatomic
particles. Misha would also say, had he lived in another country and
not been limited in choice, it is possible that he would have chosen a
completely different line of career, for example, international
relations.  I am sure that he could have become an excellent diplomat
or even have succeeded in having two careers, as did the Israeli 
physicist, Yuval
Neeman.  While still in Moscow Misha would talk with admiration about
how this man, having built a successful military career, at the age of
forty became interested in physics, went back to school for physics
and in a relatively short time became a world class physicist. In the
Soviet Union this path was closed for Jews, as were many liberal arts
professions, leaving only the natural sciences where scientific
achievements could at lease to some degree be evaluated by objective
criteria.  Besides this, I think what influenced Misha's choice was
that in high school he had a wonderful physics teacher, Victor
Leonidovich Raskin, who unfortunately also died early from cancer.
He, by the way, a couple years later after Misha, taught V.~Zakharov,
who subsequently also became a successful physicist and stayed in
close contact with Misha. Misha's analytical thinking and his
excellent command of mathematics determined Misha's decision to choose
specifically the theoretical path.

Misha tried to persuade me, that in any profession it was possible to
find something interesting and thus become captivated by the work. It,
in many ways, depends on the person, and in most romantic
professions together with the creative part there is always monotonous
work.  For example, the scrupulous note-taking of the experiment process
or an accurate mathematical proof or calculations in theoretical
research, the processing of literature, references etc. Misha
considered that a scientist must command a developed imagination and
besides this the ability to work incessantly and meticulously.  What
he objected to were an amateurish attitude and superficiality.  I
remember him saying, there is no such thing as, ``I knew it, but I
forgot.''  For him it meant, ``You never knew it, at the time did not
think about it and didn't not understand it profoundly enough.'' He
admired professionalism in every area.  Even with his broad education,
he never allowed himself to make statements on subjects he was unsure
about.

Misha was very modest, almost to the point of asceticism in his daily
demands. He didn't like to waste time and energy on such unimportant
problems as acquiring new furniture or fashionable clothes; his desk,
paper, pen and the ability to work were the most important. By the
way, about this desk.  We had a very good, big and comfortable desk at
home, with two stands with drawers.  When we lived in a little room in
a communal apartment, Misha slept on a collapsible bed and I on a
suspended bed, like in a train, so that during the day our beds were
put away.  However, it never occurred to us to get rid of the desk or
exchange it for a smaller one.  It was simply the most important work
area. It was at the desk that father prepared his lectures, mother, a
neurologist, worked with her medical books when she had a complicated
case in the hospital, and Misha and myself studied.  Later we moved to
our own apartment, where there was more room, and the desk, of course,
came with us.  And, when Misha married and moved with his family to a
new apartment, he lacked a good desk.  He could not buy a desk like
the one we had, so Misha, a few years later, built himself a large,
excellent desk. This was not a simple task for somebody who was not a
professional wood-worker, but he worked laboriously and accurately;
the drawers moved, the doors opened and closed. Misha was very proud
of the fact that everything was up to par with a professional's work.
When we left for Israel it was a pity we could not take the desk with
us.

When the ``iron curtain''
 started to open a little and there appeared some chance
of leaving for Israel, Misha appeared to be in a difficult dilemma.
We all knew that our parents could never leave, since father's work
was highly classified.  Though neither our mother nor our father ever said
anything against our leaving, we understood that if we were to go,
that it would be goodbye forever and this would be fatal for our
parents, as we were too close to each other.  Within a few years
it became clear that father was incurably ill, and we stopped
discussing the question of our departure, all the while nervously
following what was going on; the first and second Leningrad trials,
the struggle of the refusniks, etc.

At the beginning of the 70's some of Misha's friends and fellow
classmates left for Israel.  One of them, D.~Roginsky, who later
became a professor of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, helped us to
find family from our father's side and to get in touch with them.
Once there was an international conference in Moscow and our cousin,
Dr.\ Uri Marinov was in the Israeli delegation.  We met with him at
Misha's home. Later, when father passed away, we applied for
emigration.  We wanted to leave, but only altogether, mother, Misha's
family and my family.  It was difficult to foresee how events would
turn out.  We ended up spending eight difficult years as refusniks
before we were able to leave for Israel.  During all those years
D.~Roginsky kept in contact and helped us tremendously.  He applied to
different social and governmental organizations to help our families
receive permission to leave the USSR and repatriate to Israel. In 1982
D.~Roginsky, together with our relative, also a professor of physics
at the Hebrew University, Amnon Marinov, with whom we were acquainted
only by correspondence, turned to Ronald Reigan, then the president of
the USA, with a plea for action.  The wall, however, was
insurmountable, and only in the Spring of '87 did we fly to Israel; all
of us, on one plane, just as we had wanted.

At last we met our relatives, the Israeli branch of the Marinov
family, about which father talked so much.  Misha even recounted to
them the history of our family name which he remembered from father's
words.  We were especially warmly received by Uri Marinov, whom we had
already met, and Amnon Marinov with his wonderful wife Rachel.  I
think that Misha would have been accepted with pleasure to any Israeli
university, as he was well-known in his field. They, however, could
not offer to a scientist of his stature anything less than a
professorship.  Such positions are rarely vacant, and it is especially
difficult in Israel, where the number of universities is limited.  I
believe that Misha could easily have received an invitation to work in
the US or in some European country, but he wanted to live and work in
Israel.  Approximately a year after he had arrived, having worked a
little in the Hebrew University in Jerusalem and in a college in
Ariel, Misha received a position at the Technion in Haifa.  I remember
how highly father spoke of the academic level of the Technion while
still in Moscow.  How proud he would be, if he lived to see Misha
become a full professor in the Technion.

It was a pity only that it was necessary to leave Jerusalem. However,
after Misha got to know Haifa, he fell in love with the city.  While
working in Israel Misha was at last able to travel to seminars,
conferences and do research in other countries.  Still, having already
traveled and seen much, he told me that Haifa was one of the most
beautiful cities in the world, if not the most beautiful, truthfully
adding that Jerusalem was out of the competition (besides everything
else, he also didn't want to offend us, Jerusalemites). I remember
well the last time we drove with Misha to the hospital.  He asked me
to take the long way, not wanting to hurry.  We all understood that
there was no hope of recovery.  Misha, however, as always, was well
composed; he didn't make any drama, but simply chose such a route, so
we could once again admire the view of Haifa's gulf, the Bahai gardens
and the whole panorama of the city on the way.

In spite of the fact that Misha achieved so many of his dreams: he
conducted his own research, taught, lecturing in Hebrew (even though
he could just as well have done it in English), and had several students
who defended their dissertations under his supervision, he was
nevertheless often unsatisfied with himself.  He had a ton of ideas,
he was searching for a path to solve many problems, and for all that he
had a catastrophic lack of time.  Teaching, which he loved very much
and to which he gave much significance, took up much time and energy.
A perfectionist in everything, he was very demanding of himself, and
therefore, with much meticulousness, prepared for each and every
lecture, even if he was merely teaching a long established course on
classical physics.

I don't remember if Misha ever really took a vacation, in the common
sense of the word, meaning spending his time completely uninvolved in
his work.  Even on weekends and during holidays he took a few hours to
work a little.  Misha used to say it would be a sin to complain about
his life, leaving with pleasure in the morning to work, meaning to
study things that were, for him, very interesting, and then, in the
evening, racing home to be with his beloved family.  He was so proud
of his family: his beautiful wife, the tireless Lilia, his older daughter,
Masha, who already started her PhD studies at the Technion, his younger
one, Dina, when she became an officer in the Israeli Army! Many could
have envied him, but nevertheless he had the sensation, that he was
not doing all he could.  The years at the Technion flew by much too
quickly; the stressful and intense work, the travels abroad and
connection with other physicists in world. What a pity, that all this
came so late.\\[2mm] 
How painful that Misha did not do so much more!

\vspace*{4mm}

\noindent
{\em Translated from Russian by Eric Barrett and Hana Chokler}

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