I anxiously darted sideways: what is it – hallucination? I anxiously darted sideways and cried:
- You?
And heard from that crowd of sad woman:
- Sonny! My restless sonny!
I am feeling myself about to faint right now. I am feeling numb, I have taken hold of the chair and lean on it.
But at the same time laughter echoed like thunder, crashed about the ceiling and disappeared. That was Tagabat, the doctor:
- “Mother”?! Hey, you, fucking doll! Do you want tits? “Mother”?! - I recovered instantly and put on the edge of my mantle.
- Damn! – And attacked the doctor.
But he coldly looked at me and said:
- There, there, hush, commune traitor! Be able to dispose of “mother” (he accented “of mother”), as you could dispose of the others.
And silently turned away.
…I was rooted to the spot. Pale, nearly dead I stood before hordes of vestals with confused eyes like a haunted wolf (I saw it in the huge console-mirror, which hung opposite).
Yes! – finally grabbed the other tile of my soul! I won’t go there, to the edge of the town to criminally hide myself. I now have just one right: - nobody, never and anything to say how broke my own very self.
And I didn’t keep wits about one
The thought cuts my brain. What should I do? Can it be true, I’m the soldier of the revolution, and will miss this crucial moment? Can it be true, I’m leaving the watch and play and discreditably play the commune foul?
…I set my teeth hard, looked at my mother, frowning, and whipped out:
- Each and all in the cellar. I’ll be back soon.
But even I said it, the office rang with laughter.
Then I turned to the doctor and threw out clearly:
- Doctor Tagabad! You, obviously, have forgotten who you are dealing with? Would you care to go in Dukhonin’s control headquarters…with these bastards! – I gave a wave of the hand aside, where my mother stood, and silently got out of my office.
…I didn’t heard anything behind me.
…I went from the country seat as if drunk, to nowhere at twilight into the pre-storm stuffy evening.
The cannonade was growing. Again haze blushed over the far brickfield. Across the mound an armored car thundered: it’s was getting between them the fateful duel. Enemy regiments were avidly pressing on the insurgents. The night smelled of shooting.
I went to nowhere. I passed by the carts, rolled cavalryman, carts thundered on the bridge. The town stand in the dust, and evening didn’t clear the air of prae-storm.
I went nowhere. Unthinking, with stupid emptiness, with a heavy weight on my crooked shoulders.
