第 11 页

He had not seen her for a whole week and today he decided to go down to the lake. He deliberately chose the road that took him past her house in the hope of meeting her. As he walked slowly past the fence, he caught sight of the familiar sailor blouse at the far end of the garden. He picked up a pine cone lying on the road, aimed it at the white blouse and let fly.

Tonya turned, saw him and ran over to the fence, stretching out her hand with a warm smile.

"You've come at last," she said and there was gladness in her voice. "Where have you been all this time? I went down to the lake to get the book I had left there. I thought you might be there. Won't you come in?"

Pavel shook his head.

"No."

"Why not?" Her eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Your father wouldn't like it, I bet. He'd likely give you hell for letting a ragamuffin like me into the garden."

"What nonsense, Pavel," Tonya said in anger. "Come inside at once. My father would never say anything of the kind. You'll see for yourself. Now come in."

She ran to open the gate for him and Pavel followed her uncertainly.

"Do you like books?" she asked him when they were seated at a round garden table.

"Very much," Pavel replied eagerly.

"What book do you like best of all?"

Pavel pondered the question for a few moments before replying: "Jeezeppy Garibaldi."

"Giuseppe Garibaldi," Tonya corrected him. "So you like that book particularly?"

"Yes. I've read all the sixty-eight instalments. I buy five of them every pay day. Garibaldi, that's a man for you!" Pavel exclaimed. "A real hero! That's what I call the real stuff. All those battles he had to fight and he always came out on top. And he travelled all over the world! If he was alive today I would join him, I swear I would. He used to take young workers into his band and they all fought together for the poor folk."

"Would you like me to show you our library?" Tonya said and took his arm.

"Oh no, I'm not going into the house," Pavel objected.

"Why are you so stubborn? What is there to be afraid of?"

Pavel glanced down at his bare feet which were none too clean, and scratched the back of his head.

"Are you sure your mother or your father won't throw me out?"

"If you don't stop saying such things I'll get really annoyed with you," Tonya flared up.

"Well, Leszczinski would never let the likes of us into his house, he always talks to us in the kitchen. I had to go there for something once and Nelly wouldn't even let me into the room—must have been afraid I'd spoil her carpets or something," Pavel said with a grin.

"Come on, come on," she urged him, taking him by the shoulder and giving him a friendly little push toward the porch.

She led him through the dining room into a room with a huge oak bookcase. And when she opened the doors Pavel beheld hundreds of books standing in neat rows. He had never seen such wealth in his life.

"Now we'll find an interesting book for you, and you must promise to come regularly for more.

Will you?"

Pavel nodded happily.

"I love books," he said.

They spent several pleasant hours together that day. She introduced him to her mother. It was not such a terrible ordeal after all. In fact he liked Tonya's mother.

Tonya took Pavel to her own room and showed him her own books.

On the dressing table stood a small mirror. Tonya led Pavel up to it and said with a little laugh:

"Why do you let your hair grow wild like that? Don't you ever cut it or comb it?"

"I just shave it clean off when it grows too long. What else should I do with it?" Pavel said,embarrassed.

Tonya laughed, and picking up a comb from the dressing table she ran it quickly a few times through his unruly locks.

"There, that's better," she said as she surveyed her handiwork. "Hair ought to be neatly cut, you shouldn't go around looking like an oaf."

She glanced critically at his faded brown shirt and his shabby trousers but made no further comment.

Pavel noticed the glance and felt ashamed of his clothes.

When they said good-bye, Tonya invited him to come again. She made him promise to come in two days' time and go fishing with her.

Pavel left the house by the simple expedient of jumping out of the window; he did not care to go through the other rooms and meet Tonya's mother again.

With Artem gone, things grew hard for the Korchagins. Pavel's wages did not suffice.

Maria Yakovlevna suggested to Pavel that she go out to work again, especially since the Leszczinskis happened to be in need of a cook. But Pavel was against it.

"No, mother, I'll find some extra work to do. They need men at the sawmill to stack the timber. I'll put in a half a day there and that'll give us enough to live on. You mustn't go to work, or Artem

will be angry with me for not being able to get along without that."

His mother tried to insist, but Pavel was adamant.

The next day Pavel was already working at the sawmill stacking up the freshly sawn boards to dry.

There he met several lads he knew, Misha Levchukov, an old schoolmate of his, and Vanya Kuleshov. Misha and he teamed together and working at piece rates they earned quite well. Pavel spent his days at the sawmill and in the evenings went to his job at the power plant.

On the evening of the tenth day Pavel brought his earnings to his mother.

As he handed her the money, he fidgeted uneasily, blushed and said finally:

"You know what, mother, buy me a sateen shirt, a blue one—like the one I had last year,remember? It'll take about half the money, but don't worry, I'll earn some more. This shirt of mine is pretty shabby," he added, as if apologising far his request.

"Why, of course I'll buy it for you," said his mother, "I'll get the material today, Pavlusha, and tomorrow I'll sew it. You really do need a new shirt." And she gazed tenderly at her son.

Pavel paused at the entrance to the barbershop and fingering the ruble in his pocket turned into the doorway.

The barber, a smart-looking young man, noticed him entering and signed toward the empty chair with his head.

"Next, please."

As he settled into the deep, soft chair, Pavel saw in the mirror before him a flustered, confused face.

"Clip it close?" the barber asked.

"Yes, that is, no—well, what I want is a haircut—how do you call it?" Pavel floundered, making a despairing gesture with his hand.

"I understand," the barber smiled.

A quarter of an hour later Pavel emerged, perspiring and exhausted by the ordeal, but with his hair neatly trimmed and combed. The barber had worked hard at the unruly mop, but water and the comb had won out in the end and the bristling tufts now lay neatly in place.

Out in the street Pavel heaved a sigh of relief and pulled his cap down over his eyes.

"I wonder what mother'll say when she sees me?" he thought.

Tonya was vexed when Pavel did not keep his promise to go fishing with her.

"That stoker boy isn't very considerate," she thought with annoyance, but when several more days passed and Pavel failed to appear she began to long for his company.

One day as she was about to go out for a walk, her mother looked into her room and said:

"A visitor to see you, Tonya. May he come in?"

Pavel appeared in the doorway, changed so much that Tonya barely recognised him at first.

He was wearing a brand-new blue sateen shirt and dark trousers. His boots had been polished until they shone, and, as Tonya noted at once, his bristly mop had been trimmed. The grimy young stoker was transformed.

Tonya was about to express her surprise, but checked herself in time for she did not want to embarrass the lad, who was uncomfortable enough as it was. So she pretended not to have noticed the striking change in his appearance and began scolding him instead.

"Why didn't you come fishing? You should be ashamed of yourself! Is that how you keep your promises?"

"I've been working at the sawmill these days and just couldn't get away."

He could not tell her that he had been working the last few days to the point of exhaustion in order to buy himself the shirt and trousers.

Tonya, however, guessed the truth herself and her annoyance with Pavel vanished.

"Let's go for a walk down to the pond," she suggested, and they went out through the garden onto the road.

Before long Pavel was telling Tonya about the revolver he had stolen from the Lieutenant, sharing his big secret with her as with a friend, and promising her that some day very soon they would go deep into the woods to do some shooting.

"But see that you don't give me away," Pavel said abruptly.

"I shall never give you away," Tonya vowed.

冬妮亚站在敞开的窗户前，闷闷不乐地望着熟悉而亲切的花园，望着花园四周那些挺拔的、在微风中轻轻摇曳的白杨。她简直不敢相信，离开自己的家园已经整整一年了。她仿佛昨天才离开这个童年时代就熟悉的地方，今天又乘早车返了回来。

这里什么都没有变样：依然是一排排修剪得整整齐齐的树莓，依然是按几何图形布局的小径，两旁种着妈妈喜爱的蝴蝶花。花园里的一切都是那样干净利落。处处都显示出一个学究式的林学家的匠心。但是这些干净的、图案似的小径却使冬妮亚感到乏味。

冬妮亚拿了一本没有读完的小说，打开通外廊的门，下了台阶，走进花园。她又推开油漆的小栅栏门，缓步朝车站水塔旁边的池塘走去。

她走过一座小桥，上了大路。这条路很像公园里的林荫道。右边是池塘，池塘周围长着垂柳和茂密的柳丛。左边是一片树林。

她刚想朝池塘附近的旧采石场走去，忽然看见下面池塘岸边扬起一根钓竿，于是就停住了脚步。

她从一棵弯曲的柳树上面探过身去，用手拨开柳丛的枝条，看到下面有一个晒得黝黑的男孩子。他光着脚，裤腿一直卷到大腿上，身旁放着一只盛蚯蚓的锈铁罐子。那少年正在聚精会神地钓鱼，没有发觉冬妮亚在注视他。

“这儿难道能钓着鱼吗？”

保尔生气地回头看了一眼。

他看见一个陌生的姑娘站在那里，手扶着柳树，身子探向水面。她穿着领子上有蓝条的白色水兵服和浅灰色短裙。一双带花边的短袜紧紧裹住晒黑了的匀称的小腿，脚上穿着棕色的便鞋。栗色的头发梳成一条粗大的辫子。

拿钓竿的手轻轻颤动了一下，鹅毛鱼漂点了点头，在平静的水面上荡起了一圈圈波纹。

背后随即响起了她那焦急的声音：“咬钩了，瞧，咬钩了……”

保尔慌了手脚，急忙拉起钓竿。钩上的蚯蚓打着转转，蹦出水面，带起一朵水花。

“这回还能钓个屁！真是活见鬼，跑来这么个人。”保尔恼火地想。为了掩饰自己的笨拙，他把钓钩甩到更远的水里。

钓钩落在两支牛蒡的中间，这里恰恰是不应当下钓的地方，因为鱼钩可能挂到牛蒡根上。

保尔情知钓下错了地方，他头也不回，低声埋怨起背后的姑娘来：“你瞎嚷嚷什么，把鱼都吓跑了。”

他立刻听到上面传来几句连嘲笑带挖苦的答话：“单是您这副模样，也早就把鱼吓跑了。再说，大白天能钓着鱼吗？瞧您这个渔夫，多能干！”

保尔竭力保持礼貌，可是对方未免太过分了。他站起身来，把帽子扯到前额上——这向来是他生气的表示——尽量挑选最客气的字眼，说：“小姐，您还是靠边呆着去，好不好？”

冬妮亚眯起眼睛，微微一笑，说：“难道我妨碍您吗？”

她的声音里已经没有嘲笑的味道，而是一种友好与和解的口吻了。保尔本来想对这位不知从哪里冒出来的“小姐”发作一通，现在却被解除了武装。

“也没什么，您要是愿意看，就看好了，我并不是舍不得地方给您坐。”说完，他坐了下来，重新看他的鱼漂。鱼漂紧贴着牛蒡不动，显然是鱼钩挂在根上了。保尔不敢起钓，心里嘀咕着：“钩要是挂上，就摘不下来了。这位肯定要笑话我。她要是走掉该多好！”

然而，冬妮亚却在一棵微微摇摆的弯曲的柳树上，坐得更舒适了。她把书放在膝盖上，看着这个晒得黝黑的、黑眼睛的孩子，他先是那样不客气地对待她，现在又故意不理睬她，真是个粗野的家伙。

保尔从镜子一样的水面上清楚地看到了那姑娘的倒影。

她正坐着看书，于是他悄悄地往外拉那挂住的钓丝。鱼漂在下沉，钓丝绷得紧紧的。

“真挂住了，该死的！”他心里想，一斜眼，看见水中有一张顽皮的笑脸。

水塔旁边的小桥上，有两个年轻人正朝这边走来，他们都是文科学校七年级学生。一个是机车库主任苏哈里科工程师的儿子。他是个愚蠢而又爱惹是生非的家伙，今年十七岁，浅黄头发，一脸雀斑，同学们给他起了个绰号，叫麻子舒拉。

他手里拿着一副上好的钓竿，神气活现地叼着一支香烟。和他并排走着的是维克托，一个身材匀称的娇气十足的青年。

苏哈里科侧过身子，朝维克托挤眉弄眼地说：“这个姑娘像葡萄干一样香甜，别有风味。这样的，本地再也找不出第二个。我担保她是个浪——漫——女——郎。她在基辅上学，读六年级。现在是到父亲这儿来消夏的。她父亲是本地的林务官。她跟我妹妹莉莎很熟。我给她写过一封情书，你知道，满篇都是动人的词句。我说我发狂地爱着她。战栗地期待着她的回信。我甚至选了纳德森［纳德森（１８６２—１８８７），俄国诗人。——译者］的一首诗，抄了进去。”

“结果怎么样？”维克托兴致勃勃地问。

苏哈里科有点狼狈，说：“你知道，还不是装腔作势，摆臭架子……说什么别糟蹋信纸了。不过，这种事情开头总是这一套。干这一行，我可是个老手。你知道，我才不愿意没完没了地跟在屁股后面献殷勤。晚上到工棚那儿去，花上三个卢布，就能弄到一个让你见了流口水的美人，比这要好多了。而且人家一点也不扭扭捏捏。你认得铁路上的那个工头瓦利卡•季洪诺夫吗？我们俩就去过。”

维克托轻蔑地皱起眉头，说：“舒拉，你还干这种下流勾当？”

舒拉•苏哈里科咬了咬纸烟，吐了一口唾沫，讥笑地说：“你倒像个一尘不染的正人君子，其实你干的事，我们全知道。”

维克托打断他的话，问：“那么，你能把她介绍给我吗？”

“当然可以，趁她还没走，咱们快点去。昨天早上，她自己也在这儿钓鱼来着。”

两个朋友已经到了冬妮亚跟前。苏哈里科取出嘴里的纸烟，挺有派头地鞠了一躬。

“您好，图曼诺娃小姐。怎么，您在钓鱼吗？”

“不，我在看别人钓鱼。”冬妮亚回答。

苏哈里科急忙拉着维克托的手，说：“你们两位还不认识吧？这位是我的朋友维克托•列辛斯基。”

维克托不自然地把手伸给冬妮亚。

“今天您怎么没钓鱼呢？”苏哈里科竭力想引起话头来。

“我没带钓竿。”冬妮亚回答。

“我马上再去拿一副来。”苏哈里科连忙说。“请您先用我的钓吧，我这就去拿。”

他履行了对维克托许下的诺言，介绍他跟冬妮亚认识之后，现在要设法走开，好让他们俩在一起。

“不，咱们这样会打搅别人的，这儿已经有人在钓鱼了。”冬妮亚说。

“打搅谁？”苏哈里科问。“啊，是这个小子吗？”他这时才看见坐在柳丛前面的保尔。“好办，我马上叫这小子滚蛋！”

冬妮亚还没有来得及阻止他，他已经走下坡去，到了正在钓鱼的保尔跟前。

“赶紧给我把钓竿收起来，滚蛋。”苏哈里科对保尔喊。他看见保尔还在稳稳当当地坐着钓鱼，又喊：“听见没有，快点，快点！”

保尔抬起头，毫不示弱地白了苏哈里科一眼。

“你小点声，龇牙咧嘴地嚷嚷什么？”

“什——什——么？”苏哈里科动了肝火。“你这穷光蛋，竟敢回嘴。给我滚开！”说着，狠劲朝盛蚯蚓的铁罐子踢了一脚。铁罐子在空中翻了几翻，扑通一声掉进水里，激起的水星溅到冬妮亚的脸上。

“苏哈里科，您怎么不害臊啊！”她喊了一声。

保尔跳了起来。他知道苏哈里科是机车库主任的儿子，阿尔焦姆就在他父亲手下干活。要是现在就对准这张虚胖焦黄的丑脸揍他一顿，他准要向他父亲告状，那样就一定会牵连到阿尔焦姆。正是因为这一点，保尔才克制着自己，没有立即惩罚他。

苏哈里科却以为保尔要动手打他，便扑了过去，用双手去推站在水边的保尔。保尔两手一扬，身子一晃，但是稳住了，没有跌下水去。

苏哈里科比保尔大两岁，要讲打架斗殴，惹是生非，他是第一把交椅。

保尔胸口挨了这一下，忍无可忍了。

“啊，你真动手？好吧，瞧我的！”说着，把手稍稍一扬，照苏哈里科的脸狠狠打了一拳。紧接着，没容他还手，一把紧紧抓住他的学生装，猛劲一拉，把他拖到了水里。

苏哈里科站在没膝深的水中，锃亮的皮鞋和裤子全都湿了。他拼命想挣脱保尔那铁钳般的手。保尔把他拖下水以后，就跳上岸来。

狂怒的苏哈里科跟着朝保尔扑过来，恨不得一下子把他撕碎。

保尔上岸以后，迅速转过身来，面对着扑过来的苏哈里科。这时他想起了拳击要领：“左腿支住全身，右腿运劲、微屈，不单用手臂，而且要用全身力气，从下往上，打对手的下巴。”他按照要领狠劲打了一下……

只听得两排牙齿喀哒一声撞在一起。苏哈里科感到下巴一阵剧烈疼痛，舌头也咬破了，他尖叫一声，双手在空中乱舞了几下，整个身子向后一仰，扑通一声，笨重地倒在水里。

冬妮亚在岸上忍不住哈哈大笑起来。“打得好，打得好！”她拍着手喊。“真有两下子！”

保尔抓住钓竿，使劲一拽，拉断了挂住的钓丝，跑到大路上去了。

临走的时候，他听到维克托对冬妮亚说：“这家伙是个头号流氓，叫保尔•柯察金。”

车站上变得不安宁了。从铁路沿线传来消息说，铁路工人已经开始罢工。邻近的一个火车站上，机车库工人也闹起来了。德国人抓走两名司机，怀疑他们传送宣言。德军在乡下横征暴敛，逃亡的地主又重返庄园，这两件事使那些同农村有联系的工人极为愤怒。

乌克兰伪乡警的皮鞭抽打着庄稼汉的脊背。省里的游击运动开展起来了。已经有十个左右游击队，有的是布尔什维克组织的，有的是乌克兰社会革命党人组织的。

这些天，费奥多尔•朱赫来忙得不可开交。他留在城里以后，做了大量的工作。他结识了许多铁路工人，时常参加青年人的晚会，在机车库钳工和锯木厂工人中建立了一个强有力的组织。他也试探过阿尔焦姆，问他对布尔什维克党和党的事业有什么看法，这个身强力壮的钳工回答他说：“费奥多尔，你知道，我对党派的事，弄不太清楚，但是，什么时候需要我帮忙，我一定尽力，你可以相信我。”

朱赫来对这种回答已经满意了。他知道阿尔焦姆是自己人，说到就能做到。至于入党，显然条件还不成熟。“没关系，现在这种时候，这一课很快就会补上的。”朱赫来这样想。

朱赫来已经由发电厂转到机车库干活了，这样更便于进行工作，因为他在发电厂里，很难接触到铁路上的情况。

现在铁路运输格外繁忙。德国人正用成千上万节车皮，把他们从乌克兰掠夺到的黑麦、小麦、牲畜等等，运到德国去。

乌克兰伪警备队突然从车站抓走了报务员波诺马连科。

他们把他带到队部，严刑拷打。看来，他供出了阿尔焦姆在机车库的同事罗曼•西多连科，说罗曼进行过鼓动工作。

罗曼正在干活，两个德国兵和一个伪军官前来抓他。伪军官是德军驻站长官的助手，他走到罗曼的工作台跟前，一句话也没有说，照着他的脸就是一鞭子。

“畜生，跟我们走，有话找你说！”接着，他狞笑了一声，狠劲拽了一下钳工的袖子，说：“走，到我们那儿煽动去吧！”

这时候阿尔焦姆正在旁边的钳台上干活。他扔下锉刀，像一个巨人似的逼近伪军官，强忍住涌上心头的怒火，用沙哑的声音说：“你这个坏蛋，凭什么打人！”

伪军官倒退了一步，同时伸手去解手枪的皮套。一个短腿的矮个子德国兵，也赶忙从肩上摘下插着宽刺刀的笨重步枪，哗啦一声推上了子弹。

“不准动！”他嚎叫着，只要阿尔焦姆一动，他就开枪。

高大的钳工只好眼巴巴地看着面前这个丑八怪小兵，一点办法也没有。

两个人都被抓走了。过了一个小时，阿尔焦姆总算放了回来，但是罗曼却被关进了堆放行李的地下室。

十分钟后，机车库里再没有一个人干活了。工人们聚集在车站的花园里开会。扳道工和材料库的工人也都赶来参加。

大家情绪异常激昂，有人还写了要求释放罗曼和波诺马连科的呼吁书。

那个伪军官带着一伙警备队员急忙赶到花园。他挥舞着手枪，大声叫喊：“马上干活去！要不，就把你们全都抓起来，还得枪毙几个。”

这时，群情更加激愤。

工人们愤怒的吼声吓得他溜进了站房。德军驻站长官从城里调来德国兵。他们乘着几辆卡车，沿公路飞驰而来。

工人们这才四散回家。所有的人都罢工了，连值班站长也走了。朱赫来的工作产生了效果。这是车站上的第一次群众示威。

德国兵在站台上架起了重机枪。它支在那里，活像一只随时准备扑出去的猎狗。一个德军班长蹲在旁边，手按着枪把。

车站上人都跑光了。

当天夜里，开始了大搜捕。阿尔焦姆也被抓走了。朱赫来没有在家过夜，他们没有抓到他。

抓来的人都关在一个大货仓里。德国人向他们提出了最后通牒：立即复工，否则就交野战军事法庭审判。

几乎全线的铁路工人都罢工了。这一昼夜连一列火车也没有通过。离这里一百二十公里的地方发生了战斗。一支强大的游击队切断了铁路线，炸毁了几座桥梁。

夜里有一列德国军车开进了车站。一到站，司机、副司机和司炉就都跑了。除了这列军车以外，站上还有两列火车急等着开出去。

货仓的大铁门打开了，驻站长官德军中尉带着他的助手伪军官和一群德国人走了进来。

驻站长官的助手叫道：“柯察金、波利托夫斯基、勃鲁扎克，你们三个一组，马上去开车。要是违抗——就地枪决！去不去？”

三个工人只好沮丧地点了点头。他们被押上了机车。接着，长官的助手又点了一组司机、副司机和司炉的名字，让他们去开另一列火车。

火车头愤怒地喷吐着发亮的火星，沉重地喘着气，冲破黑暗，沿着铁轨驶向夜色苍茫的远方。阿尔焦姆给炉子添好煤，一脚踢上炉门，从箱子上拿起短嘴壶喝了一口水，对司机波利托夫斯基老头说：“大叔，咱们真就这么给他们开吗？”

波利托夫斯基紧锁浓眉，生气地眨了眨眼睛。

“刺刀顶在脊梁上，那就开呗。”

“咱们扔下机车，跳车跑吧。”勃鲁扎克斜眼看了看坐在煤水车上的德国兵，建议说。