第 17 页

The man walked with a firm, slightly rolling gait.

Three paces behind, his bayonet almost touching the man's back, came a Petlyura soldier in a grey coat and two cartridge pouches at his belt. From under his shaggy sheepskin cap two small, wary eyes watched the back of his captive's head. Yellow, tobacco-stained moustaches bristled on either

side of his face.

Liza slackened her pace slightly and crossed over to the other side of the road. Just then Pavel emerged onto the highway behind her.

As he passed the old house and turned to the right at the bend in the road, he too saw the two men coming toward him.

Pavel stopped with a start and stood as if rooted to the ground. The arrested man was Zhukhrai.

"So that's why he didn't come back!"

Zhukhrai was coming nearer and nearer. Pavel's heart pounded as if it would burst. His thoughts raced madly as his mind sought vainly to grasp the situation. There was not enough time for deliberation. Only one thing was clear: Zhukhrai was caught.

Stunned and bewildered Pavel watched the two approach. What was to be done?

At the last moment he remembered the revolver in his pocket. As soon as they passed him he would shoot the man with the rifle in the back, and Fyodor would be free. With that decision reached on the spur of the moment his mind cleared. After all, it was only yesterday that Fyodor had told him: "For that we need stout fellows. . . ."

Pavel glanced quickly behind him. The street leading to town was deserted; there was not a soul in sight. Ahead a woman in a light coat was hurrying across the road. She would not interfere. The second street branching off at the intersection he could not see. Only far away on the road to the station some people were visible.

Pavel moved over to the edge of the road. Zhukhrai saw him when they were only a few paces apart.

Zhukhrai looked at him from the corner of his eye and his thick eyebrows quivered. The unexpectedness of the encounter made him slow down his step. The bayonet pricked him in the back.

"Lively, there, or you'll get a taste of this butt!" cried the escort in a screechy falsetto.

Zhukhrai quickened his pace. He wanted to speak to Pavel, but refrained; he only waved his hand as if in greeting.

Fearing to attract the attention of the yellow-moustached soldier, Pavel turned aside as Zhukhrai passed, as if completely indifferent to what was going on.

But in his head drilled the anxious thought: "What if I miss him and the bullet hits Zhukhrai. . . ."

But there was no time to think.

When the yellow-moustached soldier came abreast of him, Pavel made a sudden lunge at him and seizing hold of the rifle struck the barrel down.

The bayonet hit the pavement with a grating sound.

The attack caught the soldier unawares, and for a moment he was dumbfounded. Then he violently jerked the rifle toward himself. Throwing the full weight of his body on it, Pavel managed to retain his grip. A shot crashed out, the bullet striking a stone and ricocheting with a whine into the ditch.

Hearing the shot, Zhukhrai leapt aside and spun around. The soldier was wrenching at the rifle fiercely in an effort to tear it out of Pavel's hands. Pavel's arms were painfully twisted, but he did not release his hold. Then with a sharp lunge the enraged Petlyura man threw Pavel down on the ground, but still he could not wrench the rifle loose. Pavel went down, dragging the soldier down with him. Nothing could have made him relinquish the rifle at this crucial moment.

In two strides Zhukhrai was alongside the struggling pair. His iron fist swung through the air and descended on the soldier's head; a second later the Petlyura man had been wrenched off Pavel and,sagging under the impact of two smashing blows in the face, his limp body collapsed into the wayside ditch.

The same strong hands that had delivered those blows lifted Pavel from the ground and set him on his feet.

Victor, who by this time had gone a hundred paces or so from the intersection, walked on whistling La donna e mobile, his spirits soaring after his meeting with Liza and her promise to see him at the abandoned factory the next day.

Among the Gymnasium youths Liza Sukharko had the reputation of being rather daring in her love affairs. That arrogant braggart Semyon Zalivanov had once declared that Liza had surrendered to him, and although Victor did not quite believe Semyon, Liza nevertheless intrigued him. Tomorrow he would find out whether Zalivanov had spoken the truth or not.

"If she comes I shan't be bashful. After all, she lets you kiss her. And if Semyon is telling the truth. . . ." Here his thoughts were interrupted as he stepped aside to let two Petlyura soldiers pass.

One of them was astride a dock-tailed horse, swinging a canvas bucket—evidently on his way to water the animal. The other, in a short jacket and loose blue trousers, was walking alongside,resting his hand on the rider's knee and telling him a funny story.

Victor let them pass and was about to continue on his way when a rifle shot on the highway made him stop in his tracks. He turned and saw the mounted man spurring his horse toward the sound,while the other soldier ran behind, supporting his sabre with his hand.

Victor ran after them. When he had almost reached the highway another shot rang out, and from around the corner came the horseman galloping madly. He urged on the horse with his heels and the canvas bucket, and leaping to the ground at the first gateway shouted to the men in the yard:

"To arms! They've killed one of our men!"

A minute later several men dashed out of the yard, clicking the bolts of their rifles as they ran.

Victor was arrested.

Several people were now gathered on the road, among them Victor and Liza, who had been detained as a witness.

Liza had been rooted to the spot from fright, and hence had a good view of Zhukhrai and Korchagin when they ran past; much to her surprise she realised that the lad who had attacked the Petlyura soldier was the one Tonya had wanted to introduce to her.

The two had just vaulted over the fence into a garden when the horseman came galloping down the street. Noticing Zhukhrai running with a rifle in his hands and the stunned soldier struggling to get back on his feet, the rider spurred his horse towards the fence.

Zhukhrai, however, turned around, raised the rifle and fired at the pursuer, who swung around and beat a hasty retreat.

The soldier, barely able to speak through his torn lips, was now telling what had happened.

"You dunderhead, what do you mean by letting a prisoner get away from under your nose? Now you're in for twenty-five strokes for sure."

"Smart, aren't you?" the soldier snapped back angrily. "From under my nose, eh? How was I to know the other bastard would jump on me like a madman?"

Liza too was questioned. She told the same story as the escort, but she omitted to say that she knew the assailant. Nevertheless they were all taken to the Commandant's office, and were not released until evening.

The Commandant himself offered to see Liza home, but she refused. His breath smelled of vodka and the offer boded no good.

Victor escorted Liza home.

It was quite a distance to the station and as they walked along arm in arm Victor was grateful for the incident.

"You haven't any idea who it was that freed the prisoner?" Liza asked as they were approaching her home.

"No, I haven't. How can I?"

"Do you remember the evening Tonya wanted to introduce a certain young man to us?"

Victor halted.

"Pavel Korchagin?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes, I think his name was Korchagin. Remember how he walked out in such a funny way? Well,it was he."

Victor stood dumbfounded.

"Are you sure?" he asked Liza.

"Yes. I remember his face perfectly."

"Why didn't you tell the Commandant?"

Liza was indignant.

"Do you think I would do anything so vile?"

"Vile? You call it vile to tell who attacked the escort?"

"And do you consider it honourable? You seem to have forgotten what they've done. Have you any idea how many Jewish orphans there are at the Gymnasium, and yet you'd want me to tell them about Korchagin? I'm sorry, I didn't expect that of you."

Leszczinski was much surprised by Liza's reply. But since it did not fit in with his plans to quarrel with her, he tried to change the subject.

"Don't be angry, Liza, I was only joking. I didn't know you were so upright."

"The joke was in very bad taste," Liza retorted dryly.

As he was saying good-bye to her outside the Sukharko house, Victor asked:

"Will you come then, Liza?"

"I don't know," she replied vaguely.

Walking back to town, Victor turned the matter over in his mind. "Well, mademoiselle, you may think it vile, but I happen to think differently. Of course it's all the same to me who freed whom."

To him as a Leszczinski, the scion of an old Polish family, both sides were equally obnoxious. The only government he recognised was the government of the Polish gentry, the Rzecz Pospolita, and that would soon come with the Polish legions. But here was an opportunity to get rid of that scoundrel Korchagin. They'd twist his neck sure enough.

Victor was the only member of the family to have remained in town. He was staying with an aunt,who was married to the assistant director of the sugar refinery. His family had been living for some time in Warsaw, where his father Sigismund Leszczinski occupied a position of some importance.

Victor walked up to the Commandant's office and turned into the open door.

Shortly afterwards he was on his way to the Korchagin house accompanied by four Petlyura men.

"That's the place," he said quietly, pointing to a lighted window. "May I go now?" he asked the Khorunzhy.

"Of course. We'll manage ourselves. Thanks for the tip."

Victor hurried away.

The last blow in the back sent Pavel reeling into the dark room to which they had led him, and his outstretched arms collided with the opposite wall. Feeling around he found something like a bunk,and he sat down, bruised and aching in body and spirit.

The arrest had come as a complete surprise. How had the Petlyura crowd found out about him? He was sure no one had seen him. What would happen next? And where was Zhukhrai?

He had left the sailor at Klimka's place. From there he had gone to Sergei, while Zhukhrai remained to wait for the evening in order to slip out of town.

"Good thing I hid the revolver in the crow's nest," Pavel thought. "If they had found it, it would have been all up with me. But how did they find out?" There was no answer to the question that tormented him.

The Petlyura men had not got much out of the Korchagin house although they made a thorough search of its every corner. Artem had taken his best suit and the accordion to the village, and his mother had taken a trunk with her, so that there was little left for them to pick up.

The journey to the guardhouse, however, was something Pavel would never forget. The night was pitch black, the sky overcast with clouds, and he had blundered along, blindly and half-dazed,propelled by brutal kicks from all sides.

He could hear voices behind the door leading into the next room, which was occupied by the Commandant's guard. A bright strip of light showed under the door. Pavel got up and feeling his way along the wall walked around the room. Opposite the bunk he discovered a heavily barred window. He tried the bars with his hand— they were immovable. The place had obviously been a storeroom.

He made his way to the door and stood there for a moment listening. Then he pressed lightly on the handle. The door gave a sickening creak and Pavel swore violently under his breath.

Through the narrow slit that opened before him he saw a pair of calloused feet with crooked toes sticking out over the edge of a bunk. Another light push against the handle and the door protested louder still. A dishevelled figure with a sleep-swollen face now rose up in the bunk and fiercely scratching his lousy head with all five fingers burst into a long tirade. When the obscene flow of abuse ended, the creature reached out to the rifle standing at the head of the bunk and added phlegmatically:

"Shut that door and if I catch you looking in here once more I'll bash in your. . . ."

Pavel shut the door. There was a roar of laughter in the next room.

He thought a great deal that night. His initial attempt to take a hand in the fight had ended badly for him. The very first step had brought capture and now he was trapped like a mouse.

Still sitting up, he drifted into a restless half-sleep, and the image of his mother with her peaked, wrinkled features and the eyes he loved so well rose before him. And the thought: "It's a good thing she's away—that makes it less painful."

A grey square of light from the window appeared on the floor.

The darkness was .gradually retreating. Dawn was approaching.

红军步步紧逼，不断向大头目佩特留拉的部队发动进攻。

戈卢勃团被调上了前线。城里只留下少量后方警卫部队和警备司令部。

人们又走动起来。犹太居民利用这暂时的平静，掩埋了被杀的亲人。犹太居民区的那些小屋里又出现了生机。

寂静的夜晚，隐隐约约可以听到枪炮声。战斗就在不远的地方进行。

铁路工人都离开了车站，到四乡去找活干。

中学关门了。

城里宣布了戒严。

这是一个黑沉沉的、阴郁的夜。

乌云犹如远方大火腾起的团团浓烟，在昏暗的天空缓慢浮动，移近一座佛塔，便用浓重的烟雾把它遮掩起来。佛塔变得模糊了，仿佛抹上了一层污泥，而逼近的乌云仍在不断给它着色，越着越深。昏黄的月亮发出微微颤抖的光，也沉没在乌云之中，如同掉进了黑色的染缸。

在这样的时刻，即使你把眼睛睁得滴溜圆，也难以穿越这重重夜幕。于是人们只好像瞎子走路，张开手去摸，伸出脚去探，而且随时都有跌进壕沟、摔得头破血流的危险。

在这样的时刻，一个人鬼迷心窍迈出家门，到大街上去乱跑，头破血流的事还少得了吗？更何况又是在一九一九年四月这样的岁月，脑袋或者身上让子弹钻个把窟窿，嘴里让铁枪托敲落几颗牙齿，本来就是稀松平常的事。

小市民都知道，这种时候得坐在家里，最好也别点灯。灯可是个惹祸的货色。这不，有人不是不请自到，奔灯光去了？

真是，硬是自个儿给自个儿找麻烦。屋里黑洞洞的，最保险。

要是有人耐不得寂寞，非要出门，那就让他去好了。确实有那么一些人，没个老实的时候。那好，悉听尊便，见鬼去吧。

这跟小市民有什么相干？小市民自己才不出去乱跑呢。放心好了，绝不会出去的。

可就是在这样一个深夜，却有一个人匆匆地在街上行走。

他双脚不时陷进泥里，遇到特别难走的地方，嘴里骂骂咧咧地吐出几句脏话。

他走到柯察金家的小屋前，小心翼翼地敲了敲窗框。没有人应声。他又敲了敲，比第一次更响些，也更坚决些。

保尔正在做梦。他梦见一个似人非人的怪物用机枪对着他，他想逃，可是又无处可逃。那挺机枪发出了可怕的响声。

外面还在固执地敲着窗子，震得玻璃直响。

保尔跳下床，走到窗前，想看看是谁在敲。但是，外面只有一个模糊的人影，根本看不清是谁。

家里只有他一个人。母亲到他姐姐家去了。他姐夫在一家糖厂开机器。阿尔焦姆在邻近的村子里当铁匠，靠抡大锤挣饭吃。

敲窗的人一定是阿尔焦姆。

保尔决定打开窗子。

“谁？”他朝人影问了一声。

窗外的人影晃了一下，用压低了的粗嗓门说：“是我，朱赫来。”

接着，他两手按住窗台，纵身一跳，头就同保尔的脸一般高了。

“我到你家借宿来了，小弟弟，行吗？”他小声地问。

“当然行，那还用说！”保尔友好地回答。“你就从窗口爬进来吧。”

朱赫来粗壮的身体从窗口挤了进来。

他随手关好窗户，但是没有立刻离开那里。

他站在窗旁，倾听着窗外有没有动静。月亮从云层里钻出来，照亮了大路。他仔细观察了路上的情形，然后才转过身来，对保尔说：“咱们会把你母亲吵醒吗？她大概睡了吧？”

保尔告诉他，家里只有他一个人，水兵朱赫来这才放心，提高了嗓音说：“小弟弟，那帮吃人的野兽正在到处抓我。为了车站上最近发生的事，他们要找我算帐。虐杀犹太人的时候，要是大伙心再齐点，本来可以给那帮灰狗子一点厉害看的。可是人们还没有下火海的决心，所以没有干成。现在敌人正盯着我，已经两次设埋伏要抓我了。今天差点给逮住。刚才，我正回住处，当然啦，是从后门走的。走到板棚旁边一瞧，有个家伙藏在院子里，身子紧贴大树，可是刺刀露在外面，让我看见了。不用说，我转身就跑。这不是，一直跑到你家来了。小弟弟，我打算在你家抛锚，停几天船。你不反对吧？行。那就好了！”