第 52 页

"We're nearly home now," Anna said with a sigh of relief.

Pavel made a furtive attempt to extricate his arm. But Anna would not release it. They walked past the ruined house.

Suddenly something crashed behind them. There was a sound of running feet, hoarse breathing.

They were overtaken.

Korchagin jerked his arm but Anna, petrified with fear, clung wildly to it. And by the time he was able to tear it loose, it was too late; his neck was caught in an iron grip. Another moment and he was swung round to face his assailant. The hand crept up to his throat and, twisting his tunic collar until it all but choked him, held him facing the muzzle of a revolver that slowly described an arc before his eyes.

Pavel's fascinated eyes followed the arc with superhuman tension. Death stared at him through the muzzle of the revolver, and he had neither the strength nor the will to tear his eyes from that muzzle. He waited for the end. But his assailant did not fire, and Pavel's dilated eyes saw the bandit's face, saw the huge skull, the heavy jaw, the black shadow of unshaven beard. But the eyes under the wide peak of the cap were invisible.

Out of the corner of his eye Korchagin had one brief and stark glimpse of the chalk-white face of Anna whom one of the three dragged into the gaping hole in the wall at that moment. Twisting her arms cruelly he flung her onto the ground. Another shadow leapt towards them; Pavel only saw its reflection on the tunnel wall. He heard the scuffle within the ruined house behind him. Anna was fighting desperately; her choking cry broke off abruptly as a cap was stuffed against her mouth.

The large-skulled ruffian who had Korchagin at his mercy, was drawn to the scene of the rape like a beast to its prey. He was evidently the leader of the gang and the role of passive observer under the circumstances did not suit him. This youngster he had covered was just a greenhorn, looked like one of those "railway yard softies". Nothing to fear from a snotnose like him. Give him a couple of good knocks on the head and tell him to cut along over the field and he'd run all the way to town without looking back. He relaxed his hold.

"All right you, hop it, clear out the way you came, but no squealin', mind, or you'll get a bullet in your neck." He pressed the barrel of the gun against Korchagin's forehead. "Hop it, now," he said in a hoarse whisper and lowered his gun to show that his victim need not fear a bullet in the back.

Korchagin staggered back and began to run sideways keeping his eyes on his assailant. The ruffian, thinking the youngster was still afraid that he would shoot, turned and made for the ruined house.

Korchagin's hand flew to his pocket. If only he could be quick enough! He swung round, thrust his left hand forward, took swift aim and fired.

The bandit realised his mistake too late. The bullet tore into his side before he had time to raise his hand.

The blow sent him reeling against the tunnel wall with a low howl, and clawing at the wall he slowly sank to the ground. A shadow slid out of the house and made for the gully below.

Korchagin sent another bullet in pursuit. A second shadow bent double darted toward the inky depths of the tunnel. A shot rang out. The dark shape, sprinkled with the dust from the bullet-shattered concrete, leapt aside and vanished into the blackness. Once again the Browning rent the night's stillness. Beside the wall the large-headed bandit writhed in his death agony.

Korchagin helped Anna to her feet. Stunned and shaken, she stared at the bandit's convulsions, unable to believe that she was safe.

Korchagin dragged her away into the darkness back toward the town and away from the circle of light. As they ran toward the railway station, lights were already twinkling on the embankment near the tunnel and a rifle shot rang out on the track.

By the time they reached Anna's flat, on Baty Hill, the cocks were crowing. Anna lay down on the bed. Korchagin sat by the table, smoking a cigarette and watching the grey spiral of smoke

floating upward. ... He had just killed for the fourth time in his life.

Is there such a thing as courage, he wondered. Something that manifests itself always in its most perfect form? Reliving all his sensations he admitted to himself that in those first few seconds with the black sinister eye of the gun muzzle upon him fear had laid its icy grip on his heart. And was it only because of his weak eyesight and the fact that he had had to shoot with his left hand that those two shadows had been able to escape? No. At the distance of a few paces his bullets would have found their mark, but tension and haste, sure signs of nervousness, had made him waver.

The light from the table lamp fell on his face. Anna studied his features anxiously. But his eyes were calm; only the knitted brow showed that he was deep in thought.

"What are you thinking about, Pavel?"

His thoughts, startled by the sudden question, floated away like smoke beyond the circle of light, and he said the first thing that came into his head:

"I must go over to the Commandant's Office. This business must be reported at once."

He rose with reluctance, conscious of a great weariness.

She clung to his hand for she shrank from being left alone. Then she saw him to the door and stood on the threshold until he had vanished into the night.

Korchagin's report cleared up the mystery of the murder that had puzzled the railway guards. The body was identified at once as that of a notorious criminal named Fimka Death-Skull, a murderer and bandit with a long prison record.

The next day everybody was talking about the incident by the tunnel. As it happened that incident was the cause of an unexpected clash between Pavel and Tsvetayev.

Tsvetayev came into the workshop in the middle of the shift and asked Korchagin to step outside.

He led the way in silence to a remote corner of the corridor. He was extremely agitated, and did not seem to know how to begin. At last he blurted out:

"Tell me what happened yesterday."

"I thought you knew?"

Tsvetayev jerked his shoulders uneasily. Pavel was unaware that the tunnel incident affected Tsvetayev more keenly than the others. He did not know that, for all his outward indifference, the blacksmith had formed a deep attachment for Anna Borhart. He was not the only one who was attracted to her, but he was seriously smitten. Lagutina had just told him what had happened the night before at the tunnel and he was now tormented by one question that had remained unanswered. He could not put the question bluntly to Pavel, yet he had to know the answer. His better self told him that his fears were selfish and base, yet in the conflict of emotions that seethed

within him the savage and primitive prevailed.

"Listen, Korchagin," he said hoarsely. "This is strictly between ourselves. I know you don't want to talk about it for Anna's sake, but you can surely trust me. Tell me this, while that bandit had you covered did the others rape Anna?"

He lowered his eyes in confusion before he finished speaking.

Dimly Korchagin began to see what was in his mind. "If he cared nothing for Anna he would not be so upset. But if Anna is dear to him, then...." And Pavel burned at the insult to Anna the question implied.

"Why do you ask?"

Tsvetayev mumbled something incoherent. He felt that Pavel understood what was in question and he lost his temper:

"Don't beat about the bush. All I want is a straight answer."

"Do you love Anna?"

There was a long silence. At last Tsvetayev forced out: "Yes."

Korchagin, suppressing his anger with an effort, turned and strode down the corridor without looking back.

One night Okunev, who had been hovering uncertainly around his friend's bed for some time,finally sat down on the edge and laid his hand on the book Pavel was reading.

"Listen, Pavel, there's something I've got to get off my chest. On the one hand, it mightn't seem important, but on the other, it's quite the reverse. There's been a misunderstanding between me and Talya Lagutina. You see, at first, I liked her quite a bit." Okunev scratched his head sheepishly,but seeing no sign of laughter on his friend's face, he took courage. "But then, Talya .. . well, you know. All right, I won't give you all the details, you know how it is. Yesterday she and I decided

to hitch up and see how it works out. I'm twenty-two, we're both of age. We want to live together on an equality basis. What do you think?"

Korchagin pondered the question.

"What can I say, Kolya? You are both friends of mine, we're all members of the same clan, and we have everything else in common. Talya's a very nice girl. It's all plain sailing."

The next day Korchagin moved over to the workers' hostel, and a few days later Anna gave a party, a modest Communist party without food and drink, in honour of Talya and Nikolai. It was an evening of reminiscences, and readings of excerpts from favourite books. They sang many songs and sang them well; the rousing melodies echoed far and wide. Later on, Katyusha Zelenova and Volyntseva brought an accordion, and the rich rolling basses and silvery cadences filled the room. That evening Pavel played even better than usual, and when to everyone's delight the hulking Pankratov flung himself into the dance, Pavel forgot the new melancholy style he had adopted and played with his old abandon.

When Denikin gets to know

Of old Kolchak's overthrow,

Oh, how crazy he will go!

The accordion sang of the past, of the years of storm and stress and of today's friendship, struggles and joys. But when the instrument was handed over to Volyntsev and the whirling rhythm of the "Yablochko" dance rang out, Korchagin surprised everyone by breaking into a wild tap dance —the third and last time he was to dance in his life.

青春胜利了。伤寒没有能夺走保尔的生命。保尔已经是第四次跨过死亡的门槛，又回到了人间。卧床一个月之后，苍白瘦削的保尔终于站起来，迈着颤巍巍的双腿，扶着墙壁，在房间里试着走动。母亲搀着他走到窗口，他向路上望了很久。

积雪融化了，小水洼闪闪发光。外面已经是乍暖还寒的早春天气了。

紧靠窗户的樱桃树枝上，神气十足地站着一只灰胸脯的麻雀，它不时用狡猾的小眼睛偷看保尔。

“怎么样，冬天咱们总算熬过来了吧？”保尔用指头敲着窗户，低声说。

母亲吃惊地看了他一眼。

“你在那儿跟谁说话？”

“跟麻雀……它飞走了，真狡猾。”他无力地笑了笑。

百花盛开的春天到来了。保尔开始考虑回基辅的问题。他已经康复到能够走路了，不过体内还潜伏着别的什么病。有一天，他在园子里散步，突然感到脊椎一阵剧痛，随即摔倒在地上。他费了好大劲，才慢慢挪到屋里。第二天，医生给他做了详细的检查，摸到他脊椎上有一个深坑，惊讶地叫了一声，问：“这儿怎么有个坑？”

“大夫，这是公路上的石头给崩的。在罗夫诺城下，一颗三吋炮弹在我背后的公路上炸开了花……”

“那你是怎么走路的？没什么影响吗？”

“没有。当时我躺了两个来钟头，接着又继续骑马了。这是头一回发作。”

医生皱着眉头，仔细地检查了那个坑。

“亲爱的，这可是非常讨厌的事情。脊椎是不喜欢这种震动的。但愿它以后别再发作了。穿上衣服吧，柯察金同志。”

医生掩饰不住自己的忧虑，同情地看着这个病人。

阿尔焦姆住在他老婆斯捷莎的娘家，斯捷莎年纪不大，长得很丑。她家是贫穷的农民。有一天，保尔顺路去看阿尔焦姆。在肮脏的小院子里，有一个邋遢的斜眼小男孩在跑着玩。

他一看见保尔，就毫不客气地用小眼睛瞪着他，一面专心致志地抠鼻子，一面问：“你要干什么？是来偷东西的吧？最好快走，我妈妈可厉害啦！”

这时，破旧的矮木房的小窗户打开了，阿尔焦姆在叫他：“进来吧，保夫鲁沙！”

一个脸黄得像羊皮纸的老太婆，手里拿着火叉子，在灶边忙着。她冷冷地瞧了保尔一眼，让保尔走过去，接着把锅勺敲得丁当乱响。

两个留短辫子的大女孩，急忙爬到炉炕上，像没有见过世面的野蛮人，好奇地探头打量着客人。

阿尔焦姆坐在桌子旁，有点难为情。他的婚事，母亲和保尔都不赞成。他是个血统工人，不知道为什么竟跟相处了三年的石匠女儿、美丽的被服厂女工加莉娜断绝了关系，同难看的斯捷莎结了婚，入赘到这个没有男劳动力的五口之家。

每天从机车库下工以后，他的全部精力都花在犁杖上，重整那份衰败的家业。

阿尔焦姆知道，保尔不赞成他，曾说他投入了“小资产阶级自发势力”的怀抱，因此，他观察着弟弟，看他对这里的一切有什么反应。

兄弟俩坐了一会儿，说了一阵见面时常说的那些没有什么意思的寒暄话，保尔就要起身告辞。阿尔焦姆不让他走。

“等一等，跟我们一起吃点东西吧，斯捷莎这就拿牛奶来。

这么说，你明天就要走？你身体还很弱呢，保尔。”

斯捷莎走进房里，同保尔打过招呼，就叫阿尔焦姆到打谷场帮她搬东西。屋子里就剩下保尔和那个不爱答理人的老太婆了。窗外传来了教堂的钟声，老太婆放下火叉子，不满意地嘟哝着：“啊！我主耶稣，我成天忙这些鬼事情，连祷告都没工夫了！”她摘下脖子上的披巾，斜眼看着客人，走到屋子的一个角落，那里挂着年久发黑、面带愁容的圣像。她捏着三个瘦骨嶙峋的手指，在胸前划了一个十字。

“我们在天上的父，愿人都尊你的名为圣……”她嚅动着干瘪的嘴唇，小声说。

院子里，小男孩一下子骑到一只耷拉着大耳朵的黑猪身上。他双手紧紧抓住猪鬃，两只赤脚拼命踢它，高声吆喝着，弄得那只猪团团打转，哼哼乱叫。

“驾！驾！走啊，开步走！吁！别胡闹！”

猪驮着孩子满院乱跑，想把他甩下来，可是那个斜眼的调皮鬼却骑得很稳当。

老太婆停止了祈祷，把头探出窗外，喊道：“我叫你骑，摔不死你！快下来，你怎么不瘟死呢！给我滚开！你这小疯子。”

那只猪到底把骑手甩下来了。老太婆满意了，她又回到圣像跟前，做出满脸虔诚的样子，继续祈祷：“愿你的国降临……”

男孩哭哭啼啼，满脸泪痕，走到门口，用袖子揩着摔伤的鼻子，疼得哼哼唧唧地喊：“妈妈呀——我要奶渣饺子！”

老太婆转过身来，恶狠狠地骂道：“你这个斜眼鬼，连祷告也不让我做。狗崽子，我这就让你吃个够！……”说着，就从凳子上抓起一根皮鞭。男孩立刻跑得无影无踪了。那两个女孩子在炉灶后面扑哧一声，偷偷地笑了。

老太婆又第三次去祈祷。

保尔没有等哥哥回来，就站起身来走了。他关栅栏门的时候，看见老太婆从靠边的小窗户探出头来。她在监视他。

“什么鬼迷住了哥哥的心窍，把他勾引到这儿来了？现在他到死也摆脱不掉了。斯捷莎每年给他生一个孩子，他会像甲虫掉在粪堆里，越陷越深，弄不好连机车库的工作也会丢掉。可我原来还想吸引他参加政治活动呢。”保尔走在小城阒无人迹的街道上，悒悒不乐地想。

但是，他想到明天就要离开这里，回到那个大城市去，那里有他的朋友和心爱的人们，他又高兴了。那个大城市的雄伟的景象，蓬勃的生气，川流不息的人群，电车的轰隆声，汽车的喇叭声都使他为之神往。然而最吸引他的，还是那些巨大的石头厂房和熏黑了的车间，机器，还有那滑轮的轻微的沙沙声。他向往那巨轮飞速旋转、空气中散发着机油气味的地方，向往那已经习惯了的一切。可是在这里，在这个僻静的小城里，保尔漫步街头，心里却有一种难言的怅惘。难怪保尔觉得这个小城变得陌生和无聊了。连白天出去散散步，都会惹得人心里不痛快。比如说，当他从那些坐在台阶上闲扯的长舌妇跟前走过的时候，常常听到她们急促地这样议论：“瞧，姐妹们，哪儿来的这么个丑八怪？”

“看样子，是个痨病鬼。”

“那件皮上衣倒挺阔气，准是偷来的……”

还有许多诸如此类令人厌恶的事情。

他跟这些早就一刀两断，对他来说，那个大城市变得更亲切、更可爱了。那里有朝气蓬勃、意志坚强的阶级弟兄，有劳动。

保尔不知不觉走到松林跟前，在岔路口停住了。右边是阴森森的老监狱，有一道高高的尖头木栅栏，把它和松林隔开。监狱后面是医院的白色楼房。

就是在这里，在这空旷的广场上，瓦莉亚和她的同志们被绞死了。保尔在原来设置绞架的地方默默地站了一会儿，然后走向陡坡，顺坡下去，到了埋葬烈士的墓地。

不知道是哪个有心人，在坟墓周围摆上了用云杉枝编的花圈，像给这块小小的墓地修了一道绿色的围墙。陡坡上挺拔的松树高高矗立，峡谷的斜坡上绿草如茵。

这里是小城的边缘，寂静而冷清。松林在低语，春天的大地在复苏，散发着潮湿的泥土气息。同志们就是在这里英勇就义的。他们为那些出生即贫贱、落地便为奴的人能过上美好的生活，献出了自己的生命。

保尔慢慢地摘下了帽子。悲痛，巨大的悲痛，充满了他的心。

人最宝贵的是生命。生命每个人只有一次。人的一生应当这样度过：回首往事，他不会因为虚度年华而悔恨，也不会因为卑鄙庸俗而羞愧；临终之际，他能够说：“我的整个生命和全部精力，都献给了世界上最壮丽的事业——为解放全人类而斗争。”要抓紧时间赶快生活，因为一场莫名其妙的疾病，或者一个意外的悲惨事件，都会使生命中断。

保尔怀着这样的思想，离开了烈士墓。

家里，母亲在给儿子收拾出门的行装，她很难过。保尔看着妈妈，发现她在偷偷地流泪。

“保夫鲁沙，你别走啦，行吗？我岁数大了，孤零零的一个人过日子多难受啊。不管养多少孩子，一长大就都飞了。那个城市有什么可留恋的呢？这儿一样可以过日子嘛。是不是看中了哪个短尾巴的小鹌鹑了？唉！你们什么也不跟我这个老太婆说。阿尔焦姆成亲，一句话也没说。你呢，更不用说了。总要等你们生病了，受伤了，我才能见到你们。”妈妈一面低声诉说着，一面把儿子的几件简单衣物装到一个干净的布袋里。

保尔抱住母亲的肩膀，把她拉到自己怀里。

“好妈妈，那儿没有什么鹌鹑！你老人家不知道吗？只有鹌鹑才找鹌鹑做伴。照你那么说，我不也成鹌鹑了吗？”

他的话把母亲逗得笑起来。

“妈妈，我发过誓，只要全世界的资产阶级还没消灭光，我就不找姑娘谈情说爱。什么，你说要等很久？不，妈妈，资产阶级的日子长不了啦……一个人民大众的共和国就要建立起来，将来你们这些劳动了一辈子的老头老太太，都送到意大利去养老。那个国家可暖和了，就在海边上。那儿根本没有冬天，妈妈。我们把你们安顿在资本家住过的宫殿里，让你们在温暖的阳光底下晒晒老骨头。我们再到美洲去消灭资产阶级。”

“孩子，你说的那种好日子，我是活不到了……你爷爷就是这个样子，脾气特别古怪。他是个水兵，可是真像个土匪，愿上帝饶恕我这么说！那年他在塞瓦斯托波尔打仗，回到家里，只剩了一只胳膊一条腿。胸口倒是戴上了两个十字奖章，还有挂在丝带上的两个五十戈比银币，可是到后来老头还是穷死了。他性格可倔强了。有一回他用拐棍敲了一个官老爷的脑袋，为这事蹲了差不多一年大牢。十字奖章也没帮上忙，人家照样把他关了起来。我看你呀，跟你爷爷一模一样……”

“怎么啦？妈妈，咱们这回分别，干吗要弄得愁眉苦脸的呢？把手风琴给我，我已经好久没拉了。”

他低下头，俯在那排珠母做的琴键上，奏出的新鲜音调使母亲感到惊奇。

他的演奏和过去不一样了。不再有那种轻飘大胆的旋律和豪放不羁的花腔，也不再有曾使这个青年手风琴手闻名全城的、令人如醉如痴的奔放情调。现在他奏得更和谐，仍然有力量，比过去深沉多了。

保尔独自到了车站。

他劝母亲留在家里，免得她在送别的时候又伤心流泪。

人们争先恐后地挤进了车厢。保尔占了一个上铺，他坐在上面，看着下面过道上吵嚷的激动的人群。

还是和以前一样，人们拖上来很多口袋，拼命往座位底下塞。

列车开动之后，大家才静下来，并且照老习惯办事，狼吞虎咽地吃起东西来。

保尔很快就睡着了。

保尔要去的第一所房子，坐落在市中心，在克列夏季克大街。他慢慢蹬着台阶走上天桥。周围的一切都是熟悉的，一点也没有变。他在天桥上走着，一只手轻轻地抚摩着光滑的栏杆。快要往下走的时候，他停住了脚步——天桥上一个人也没有。在深不可测的高空，展现出宏伟壮观的夜景，令人看得入迷。黑暗给地平线盖上了墨色的天鹅绒，无数星星在燃烧，恰似磷火闪闪发光。下面，在天地隐约相接的地方，是万家灯火，夜色中露出一座城市……

有几个人迎着保尔走上桥来。他们激烈地争论着，打破了黑夜的寂静。保尔不再去看城市的灯火，开始走下桥去。

保尔到了克列夏季克大街军区特勤部，传达室值班的警卫队长告诉他，朱赫来早就不在本市了。

他提出许多问题来盘问保尔，直到弄清楚这个年轻人确实是朱赫来的熟人，才告诉他，朱赫来两个月以前调到塔什干去了，在土耳其斯坦前线工作。保尔非常失望，他甚至没有再详细打听，就默默地转身走了出来。疲倦突然向他袭来，他只好在门口的台阶上坐一会儿。

一辆电车开过去，街上充满了轰隆轰隆的声音。人行道上是不尽的人流。多么热闹的城市啊：一会儿是妇女们幸福的欢笑声，一会儿是男人们低沉的交谈声，一会儿是年轻人高亢的说笑声，一会儿是老年人沙哑的咳嗽声。人来人往，川流不息，脚步都是那样匆忙。电车上灯火通明，汽车前灯射出耀眼的光芒，隔壁电影院的广告周围，电灯照耀得如同一片火光。到处是人，整条街上都是不绝的人声。这就是大城市的夜晚。