213

p Which is baffling at the beginning, but becomes
clear in the end

p Silver trumpets with bells on them.

p The trumpets sound, the bells tinkle softly, like ice:

p “Ting-a-ling-a-ling!”

p “Ding-a-ling-a-ling!”

p “Toot-toot, toot-toot!" blare the trumpets.

p A march. No question about it—a march. The march that is always played during dress parades.

p And the same square, spattered with sun falling through the green silk of the maples.

p The band-master is leading the band. He is standing with his back to the band, and through the slit in his greatcoat his tail sticks out—a big red fox tail—and at the end of his tail there is a gold ball, and in the gold ball there is a tuningfork.

214

p The tail waves from side to side, the fork gives the instruments their key and shows the cornets and trombones when to join in, and whenever a musician yawns he gets a rap on the forehead with it.

p The musicians are doing their best. Very amusing musicians. Just ordinary soldiers, guardsmen from various regiments. An all-army band.

p But the musicians have no mouth. Perfectly smooth under their noses. The trumpets are thrust into their left nostrils.

p They breathe with their right nostrils, blow with their left, and that gives the trumpets a very special tone—very gay and ringing.

p “Ten-shun! Begin the music!”

p “Shoulder arms!”

p “Re-gi-ment!”

p “Bat-ta-lion!”

p “Com-pa-ny!”

p “Battalion One—forward, march!”

p Trumpets: “Toot-toot!" Bells: “Ting-a-ling- a-ling!”

p Captain Shvetsov prances ahead on his glossy bay. The captain’s behind is as tight and smooth as a ham. Tap-tap-tap!

p “Good for you, fellows!”

p “Tweedle-dum, tweedle-dee.”

p “Lieutenant!”

p “Lieutenant! The General is asking for the Lieutenant!”

p “Which lieutenant?”

p “From Company Three. The General is asking for Lieutenant Govorukha-Otrok!”

p The General is on horseback in the middle of the square. His face is red, his whiskers are white.

p “What does this nonsense mean, Lieutenant?”

p “Ha-ha! Ho-ho! Hee-hee!”

p “Are you mad? How dare you laugh? I’ll. . . . I’ll.... Do you realise who you’re speaking to?”

215

p “Ha-ha! Hee-hee! You’re no General. You’re a cat, sir!”

p The General is on horseback in the middle of the square. Down to his waist he’s a general, the rest of him is a cat. Not even a pedigreed cat. Just an ordinary tomcat—mangy grey-and-black. The sort that can be found in any backyard. He clutches the stirrups with his paws. "I shall have you court-martialled, Lieutenant! Unheard of! A guardsman, an officer, with his intestines showing!”

p The lieutenant looked down and nearly fainted. True enough, out from under his scarf his intestines were protruding, very thin and of a greenish hue, and they were fastened to his belly-button, which was whirling round with dizzying speed. He seized his intestines but they wriggled out of his grasp.

p “Arrest him for breaking his oath!”

p The General drew one paw out of the stirrup, opened the claws, and reached for the lieutenant. On the paw was a silver spur set with an eye.

p Just an ordinary eye. Round and yellow, and it looked into the very heart of the lieutenant.

p It winked at him tenderly and began to speak. How an eye could speak nobody knows, but it spoke just the same.

p “Don’t be afraid,” it said. “Don’t be afraid. You’re pulled through.”

p A hand raised the lieutenant’s head and he opened his eyes to see a thin little face with a lock of auburn hair falling over the eyes—tender yellow eyes just like in the spur.

p “What a fright you’ve given me, poor man! For a whole week I’ve been nursing you. I thought you was a goner. And us all alone on this island. No medicine, nobody to hdp. I pulled you through on 216 nothing but boiled water. First you threw it all up. Foul water. Salty. Stomach wouldn’t take it.”

p With difficulty the lieutenant grasped the meaning of these gentle, anxious words.

p He raised his head slightly and gazed round with uncomprehending eyes.

p Piles of fish everywhere. A fire burning. A kettle hanging from a tripod. Water boiling.

p “What is it? Where am I?”

p “Have you forgot? Don’t you know me? Maryutka.”

p The lieutenant rubbed his forehead with a transparent hand. Remembering, he gave a faint smile.

p “Ah, yes. Robinson and Friday.”

p “Oh, dear! Off again. You’ve got that Friday on the brain. I don’t know what day it really is. I’ve lost count.”

p The lieutenant smiled again.

p “I don’t mean the day. It’s a name. There’s a story about how a man found himself on a desert island after a shipwreck. He had a man named Friday. Haven’t you ever read it?" He dropped back on the jacket and coughed.

p “No. I’ve read lots of stories, but not that one. But you lie down. Lie still, don’t move, else you’ll get sick again. I’ll boil some fish. You’ll get strong once you start eating again. You ain’t had a thing in your mouth but water this whole week. A body can see straight through you. Lie down.”

p The lieutenant closed his eyes weakly. His head was full of the ringing of bells. This reminded him of the trumpets with the bells on them and he gave a quiet laugh.

p “What is it?" asked Maryutka.

p “Nothing in particular. I just remembered a funny dream I had when I was delirious.”

p “You kept crying out. Giving orders, swearing. What a time I had! The wind howling, nobody 217 anywhere about, me all alone with you on this island, and you off your chump. Wasn’t I scared, just!" She gave a little shudder. “I didn’t know what to do.”

p “How did you manage?”

p “I don’t know myself. Most of all I was scared you’d die of starvation. I had nothing but water to give you. I crumbled all the hard-tack that was left into the water you drank, and when it was gone there was nothing but fish. What’s salt fish for a sick man? Wasn’t I just glad when you began to come to!”

p The lieutenant reached out and put his long fingers, beautiful in spite of the dirt, on Maryutka’s arm.

p “Thanks, Maryutka,” he said, stroking her arm gently.

p She blushed and pushed his hand away.

p “Don’t thank me. It’s only natural. I’m not a beast to let a man die.”

p “But after all, I’m an officer ... your enemy. Why should you have bothered to save me? You’re half-dead yourself.”

p There was a moment’s pause of puzzlement. But presently Maryutka dismissed her problem with a wave of her hand and a little laugh.

p “Enemy—you? Why, you can’t even lift a finger. A fine enemy! It’s my fate, I guess. I didn’t shoot you straight off—missed my aim for the first time in my life, and so it’s my fate to worry along with you to the end. Here, eat this.”

p She held out a pot in which an amber chunk of sturgeon floated. The delicate flesh gave off a mild, tempting odour. The lieutenant took out the fish and ate it with relish.

p “But it’s terribly salty. It burns your throat.”

p “Can’t be helped. If there was fresh water I could 218 soak the salt out of it, but there ain’t. Salt fish and saltwater a fish-pox on them both!”

p The lieutenant pushed the pot away.

p “What’s the matter, had enough?”

p “Yes, thanks. You eat some.”

p “Me? I’ve ate nothing else for a week—it won’t go down any more.”

p The lieutenant lay back propped up on his elbow.

p “If only I had a smoke!" He sighed.

p “A smoke? Why didn’t you say so sooner? I found some tobacco in Semyanny’s sack. It got a little wet, but I dried it. I knew you’d want to smoke. A smoker gets the longing worst after he’s been ill. Here, take it.”

p The lieutenant was touched. He took the pouch in trembling fingers.

p “You’re a jewel, Maryutka. Better than any nursemaid.”

p “I guess blokes like you can’t live without a nursemaid,” said Maryutka drily, then blushed.

p “I haven’t any paper to roll a cigarette with. That Crimson of yours took every bit of paper I had, and I’ve lost my pipe.”

p “Paper?" Maryutka considered.

p With a decisive movement she turned back the jacket lying on the lieutenant’s knees, thrust her hand into the pocket, and pulled out a little bundle of paper. Untying the string, she held out a few sheets.

p “Here’s some,” she said.

p He took the papers and’glanced at them. Then he looked at Maryutka. His eyes were full of blue consternation.

p “But this is your poetry! Are you mad? I won’t take them.”

p “Go ahead, damn it all! Don’t go tearing the heart out of me, you fish-pox!" shouted Maryutka.

219

p The lieutenant looked at her.

p “Thank you, Maryutka. I’ll never forget this.”

p He tore off a tiny corner, rolled a cigarette, and lighted up. Then he lay gazing into space through the blue tendril of smoke curling up from his cigarette.

p Maryutka gazed at him intently. Suddenly she said:

p “There’s one thing I can’t make out. What makes your eyes so blue? I never seen eyes like that in my life. They’re so blue you could drown in them.”

p “I don’t know,” said the lieutenant. “I was born with them. Lots of people have told me they were an unusual colour.”

p “And so they are. Soon as we took you prisoner I thought: what makes his eyes like that? They’re dangerous, they are.”

p “For whom?”

p “For women. They slip right inside of you before you know it. Stir a person up.”

p “Do they stir you up?”

p Maryutka flared.

p “Don’t be so nosy—keep your questions to yourself. Lie down, I’m going for water.”

p She rose and picked up the pot nonchalantly, but as she went to the other side of the stacked fish she looked back gaily and said again, in the same tone:

“You blue-eyed silly, you!”