The Daily Worker Newspaper, May 3, 1924, Page 8

AT TH (Concluded From Last Saturday) The horses sent the silver dust fly- ing; the sledge was creaking, the bells jingling. The house of Veralsky on the Sibirna Mountain looked as dark and gloomy as ever. Fedoroff stayed with the horses. Kamynin and Tanatar went into the house. Tana- tar remained in the cold parlor, while Kamynin went into Olga Veralskaya’s room. And when Kamynin came out of her room he stumbled upon some- thing in the dark and noticed Tana- tar crouching on the floor as if ready to jump like a black cat, and whisper- ing (did Kamynin hear the whis- per?): “Miracles happen; miracles do happen. Don’t play with secrets Olga. Don’t.” That evening Comrade Tanatar drove madly thru the city, giving everybody a ride in his troika; Irina, the girls, tipsy Kamynin, tipsy Tru- betzkoy, the various voyenospetzs. Then came the masquerade ball at the Communist Club. Olga Andreyevna Veralskaya had sewn up her comb very carefully so that no one might notice it was broken, but Olga Andreyevna did not come to the ball. The military or- chestra thundered valses, Hungarian dances, mazurkas. The voyenospetzs, particularly those of the cavalry regi- ments had come with their spurs preg | swords and were the heroes of the occasion. The ladies were masked as Nights, Springs (in paper flowers) Birch Trees, Little Russian (with beads from the Christmas trees), Tyrol Peasants, Cucumbers, and Do- minos. And because the baths of the city had not been heated and the per- - fumes had all been shipped to the vil- lages by speculators, the air was thick with the smell of powder, to- bacco, and the specific odor of the women’s sweat. The voyenospetzs clicked their heels and danced, in- clining their heads to one side. Be- tween dances they went to the re- freshment room to drink tea. Since no ladies were present there, all sorts of anecdotes were being re- counted. “Maria Ivanoyna told me yesterday that she would be dressed as Night and her sister Claudia as Cucumber. Well, I met Maria Ivanoyna tonight and noticed beside her a Cupid. I thought this was Claudia and said: ‘Why are you not a Cucumber?’ The Cupid burst out laughing and called me impertinent.” “That’s nothing, but one fairy has a ribbon...” The orchestra struck up—the Hia- watha. A girl dressed in a cheap suit was waiting anxiously for some dancer to come along and invite her. Her little sister was in the way. Small, thin, with red hands, with a pale little face, in a shabby dress and mended stockings, the little girl looked: at everybody with a frank and friendly glance of her pure bright eyes, laughed sweetly, and spoke sweetly to her sister. But her sister answered reluctantly in monosyllables and looked back at her with anger. The little girl laughed and was happy. Then a postoffice employe invited the siste? and they went to dance. Doc- tor Fedoroff watched the little girl closely. She remained alone. She was sad and frightened, and she began to wan- der over the room, looking anxiously about her. The smile disappeared from her face. She looked fixedly ahead. Doctor Fedoroff probably did not notice that he said aloud: “There is still time; it will come one day. Later. No. No.” Doctor Fedoroff came towards the little girl and extended his hands, “Don’t be sad, please, don’t. Let us go and dance. Let us go and have some tea, Don’t be sad. Come.” The little girl ran away from the stranger straight into the crowd of couples dancing the Hiawatha. She burst out crying bitterly, loudly, Doctor Fedoroff threw himself on the table where tickets and home-made candies. were being sold, and also began to cry, hiding his wet face in his hands and in the ticket books, Water was brought to Doctor Fedor- off. People gathered around him. The Hiawatha stopped. Tanatar was most attentive and tender. And as he was putting the doctor into the sledge, the little girl came out with her sis- ter and the post-office employe. Near- ly lifting the little girl by her hand, her sister repeated angrily: “Idiot, idiot, cry-baby!” When she saw Doctor Fedoroff, she whispered angrily to the post-office employe: “That one, too—impertinent!” IV. On New Year’s ‘Eve the voyenos- petzs of the division arranged a party in Kamynin’s former country villa, now become Soviet property. The house, over a century old, had been heated several days in succession, but it was still cold and damp. And as this house had once been plundered no lamps were nowhere to be found, and torches had to be used instead. On the galery, in the white hall, the orchestra was playing in the dark, without notes and very badly out of tune. Some people came in the morn- ing in order to spend the day in the country, to go out skiing or take a walk. Others arrived direct for sup- per. There is a special category of girls whose sole occupation is amuse- ment. Plenty of them were present that evening. A company of ski-run- ners gathered on the edge of the for- est, around a little bright fir tree. They lighted two candles on it, danced around it and burned it up. The night came, deep and silent, bringing a myriad of stars and light- ing up a myriad icicles which also shone like stars. Supper was served in the stripped parlor lighted by torches. The company in uniforms, fur coats and hats sang, ate and drank. The orchestra played loudly, but nobody danced. After supper everybody took to drinking again. A great surprise was then staged. The writer Kamynin, the former owner of the house, opened, with his own key, a secret cupboard with wine. Some of the wine had become sour, some of the cognac and vodka had lost its flavor, but everybody drank, shouted hurrah, sang “You'll be buried when you die” and “Gaudeamus.” Tho half evaporated, there was. still enough wine, cognac and vodka left to carry on a cavalry attack. Every- bod was merry. Some girls got on the fireplace and from there onto the shouders of the ‘voyenospetzs, who were supposed to represent fiery steeds. This was called a cavalry at- tack. The cavalcade rushed scream- ing thru the dark rooms. In the sit- ting room somebody started the game of Chemin de fer. One could already hear whispers and screams coming from the dark rooms. Far from the sitting room the orchestra went on playing. Tobacco smoke filled the sitting room, where new cavalry de- tachments were constantly forming. The torches Were smoking. Kamynin found a book on the window. It was the New Testament. Standing near a torch, his legs spread wide apart, Kamynin opened it at random and read aloud: 4 “But he that is an hireling and not the shepherd whose own the sheep are, seeth the wolf coming and leav- eth the sheep and fleeth, and the wolf catcheth them and scattereth the sheep; the hireling fleeth because he is an hireling and careth not for the sheep.” One of the young girls fell from the fireplace and screamed. Somebody said: - “Va-banque.” Tanatar came near Kamynin and said in a low voice: “Read something for me.” The telephone rang piercingly in the deserted rooms of Olga Verals- kaya (the yellow desert), and the voice of Samuel Tanatar was heard across the wire: “Forgive me, Olga. Forgive me. I am 80 sorry, so lonely. Forgive me. Forgive me everything. I shall ex- piate my sins. We have not long to live. We are doomed. Forgive me. My ugliness here is perhaps but a yearning for other, more beautiful re- gions. I am speaking with the blood of my heart.” And Olga answered in a low voice: “Yes, I forgive you. I do. I for- give you everything. Nothing has happeneé.” Just as Tanatar was Call- ing up Olga Veralskaya the whistle of Olga Nicolayevna blew at the foot of the mountain, and at that moment Andrey Andreyevitch Veralsky prob- ably shouted thru the window of the Club: “Ilya, fetch the carriage.” One of the girls fell from the fireplace and screamed. Somebody said: ‘“Va- banque.” Tanatar came near Kamy- nin and said in a low voice: “Read something for me.” “All right. Something from Mat- thew: “432. Now learn a parable of the fig tree: when his branch is yet ten- der and putteth forth leaves, ye know that summer is nigh: “ 433. So likewise ye, when ye shall see all these things know that it is near, even at the doors.’” Kamynin, completely drunk, fin- ished and almost lost his balance. Tanatar looked at him fixedly. “Shall I read for you now?” “All right; read for me.” “I do not need the book; I know it by heart. This is also from Mat- thew: Let the dead bury the dead. Chapter VIII. Let the dead...” Tanatar turned abruptly and left the room. The lavatory was spoiled and the men had to go to the back porch. Tanatar followed them. The moon was hanging low above the hori- zon. Dogs were barking in the vil- lage. Trubetzkoy put ‘two fingers in his mouth and was sticking his head into the snow. Another voyenospetz was lying on the snow to cool off. Two others were still smoking. Tan- atar walked down a couple of steps and stopped. “The imbeciles have dirtied every- thing.” He took out the Nolan revolver. A low shot rang out, but Tanatar him- self probably did not hear it. The orchestra played funeral marches atid the “Internationale.” Only one woman followed the red cof- fin of Comrade Tanatar. It was his sad, thin, pale wife—his wife who knew everything. ~ Night. Darkness. Snow. Stars. Silence. On the edge of the forest, near the rigid pine trees, little fir trees stood wrapped in snow and bent to the ground. One of them had been burned down and was still smoking. Silence. Immobility. The stars shone brightly and there were myriads of them. One star fell down. Si- lence. The hours passed. Suddenly something began to move in the field, and a lone snowflake came whirling among the fir trees. Another fol- lowed, and they both vanished. In the North somebody was pulling a dark mitten over the stars. Snow- flakes fell again—one, two, five. Two of them met, got entangled, whispered something to each other, merged in cena ensereeceientee reentrant ttn eens eecteetaaintcinn anette tienemtacetieenteaey established in Soviet Russia. farm for this Commune. SOS See eee ee 1243 N. Claremont Ave. — ns HERALD COMMUNE Dairy and Poultry Enterprise on a Collective Basis to be Our delegates are in Russia now to arrange for a suitable Competent workers of the various trades may join us now, as the first group is expected to leave soon. We meet every second and fourth Sunday at 3 P. M. at the Society for Technical Aid to Soviet Russia, 1902 W. Division St. 2nd floor, Chicago, For further information call or write to our Secretary, S. Miller nnn te een . ~ A Tale Of Two Republics RUSSIA AND GERMANY oming To ° Orchestra Hall, May 14, 1924--at 7 & 9 p. m. —ONE NIGHT ONLY— Under the auspices of The Friends of Soviet Russia and W , Room 303, 166 W. eiinakin yt Sormany PROCEEDS FOR GERMAN RELIEF. These pictures were taken in Germany and in Russia. Nseevenvnonvvenscvcrevvervuvevtcevvacsinesenea netstat fone and died. The forest answered the call of the snowflakes. It sent up a piercing cry, and the fir trees bent their heads in a stately minuet, The trees cracked and began to drop old branches to the ground. And again there was silence. And again the snowflakes came whirling—one, two, a hundred were born and died. The fir trees bent their heads in a new minuet. A shouting, a ringing, a howling was heard. The dark heav- enly glove began to scatter grains over the earth. Snowflakes got en- tangled. They found the space too narrow and dashed across the fields. Myriads of them. And the storm was on. The dead snowflakes, born by the snowstorm and fiying for thousands of miles over field, forest, river and city, moaned, laughed, shouted, wept in their mor- tal agony. This snowstorm had not been an- nounced, It came from beyond the Volga and was going in the direction of Yeletz, Kursk, Sumy, Poltava. Doctor Andrey Andreyevitch did not go to see his patients in the storm, and was reading Mayne Reid all day. Dressed in his fur coat, cap and boots, he came out for lunch at three. He ate shtchee,* made of sour cab- bage and mutton. He looked silently at Olga and said gloomily: “Life is hard nowadays, Olga. You have had a rest. You might be look- ing for something to do—teaching, perhaps. The holidays are over. You ought to work. You would not feel so lonesome, then. Have some mut- ton.” A word about Ivan Petrovitch Bek- esh. Ivan Petrovitch came to the writer Kamynin, spoke about the diary, and finished by saying that the price he had asked for it was far too low and ought therefore to be raised or the diary returned to him. Kamynin an- swered that he had bought the diary. not for himself, but for Olga Andrey- evna Veralskaya. Olga Andreyevna Veralskaya met Kamynin on the following morning in the labor bureau. A young girl with sheepish black eyes and hips like the back of a sledge was being registered before them. “What is your profession?” asked the woman clerk. “I am a political emigrant,” an- swered the girl. “Before 1917 I lived within the pale.** My name is Sofia Pindrik.” “Hi “T see.” It was Kamynin’s turn. “Your profession?” asked the clerk, “A writer.” And the woman clerk wrote down in the corresponding _ register: “Clerk.” (Translated by Louis Lozowicky) *A kind of soup. ** Territory Jews are allowed to settle, Chicago, Illinois _— eee ee eee ets a ¢—4