Владимир Беляев - The Town By The Sea

For the first time I heard the sailor's song Spreads the Sea Wide performed by Arkady Ignatievich.

Then the solo dancers came on the stage. There turned out to be a lot of them. No one would have thought that so much talent was hidden among the workers of our plant. A fellow would do a dance sometimes at a wedding, or a christening, or at some other family gathering, he might dance for his friends at "The Little Nook," but no one had ever thought of inviting such people to perform at the club, of giving him the chance to display his aft toy the whole works. Golovatsky was a real brick to have thought of it!

First came fitter Khimenko in a lambskin cap and Cherkess cloak. He made several low bows, then began walking round and round the stage. Gradually the circles grew smaller and smaller, his feet clad in soft chuvyaki moved faster and faster across the boards, and finally he burst into a whirling highland dance, flourishing a dagger.

Stupak, a swarthy refugee from Bessarabia, gave a performance of a dance that was popular in his

country—the zhok. Later this dance became widely known in the Soviet Union, but in those days it was a curiosity.

Misha Osaulenko from the transport department leapt out on to the stage dressed as a sailor. His face was beaming with pleasure.

Osaulenko did all sorts of tricks, now pretending to climb a tall mast, now bending down and hauling on a rope. Then he gave an imitation of a sailor battling with a fierce storm.

I knew that Misha had never been farther out to sea than Belorechenskaya 'Kosa and wondered how such a land-lubber could play the part of a sailor so well.

Arkady Ignatievich's wife, Ludmilla, did a dance too. She was wearing her blue sports frock with red pockets. It was a tap-dance and her little feet moved with wonderful speed and precision. At a sign from Ludmilla the orchestra stopped playing and for a good two minutes she kept up the tune with the tapping of her feet.

At first Golovatsky had not wanted to admit our friend the cabman to the stage on the grounds that he worked for himself, privately, instead of at the plant. But we had persuaded Tolya to change his mind and even shown him Volodya's partisan card. No one had cause to regret Volodya's appearance on the stage. While the band played a lively tune he juggled beautifully with nickel-plated balls, and even did a handstand on two bottles, supporting all his weight with his one sound hand. And after these tricks he danced as well as Ludmilla. His sailor's hornpipe won loud applause. But when Volodya danced the famous Azov chebachok, and then completed his performance with the comic dance tip-top, his success overshadowed that of all the dancers who had performed before him.

The large entrance-hall into which the audience poured after the concert had been hung with caricatures of the regulars at the Rogale-Piontkovskaya dancing-saloon. Above them placards in large letters stretched the full length of the walls: "Down with Charlestons and Foxtrots!" "We will drive bourgeois culture out of our life for ever!" "Give our youth sensible, cheerful amusement!"

At the same time the youth section told its guests what amateur-talent groups they could join. One of the groups was a solo folk dance group. There was also a notice saying that in a few days a class would be started for those who wanted to learn such dances as the waltz, the cracovienne, the mazurka, the vengerka, and the polka.

The instructors at the workers' evening institute had taken advantage of the show to exhibit a notice laying out the conditions of admission to the institute. "Every Worker Can Become an Engineer!" was the heading at the top of the notice.

While the people strolled about the hall, I went outside for a breath of fresh air. At the entrance I met Lika.

"Good evening, Lieutenant," she said, offering me her hand. "Thank you for the invitation."

"Good evening," I pretended not to notice her sarcasm. "Did you like the show?"

"It was very unusual. And funny. There's never been anything like that at the club before... Are you going home?" She looked at me from under her thick eye-lashes and, as if afraid that I might say "no" added quickly: "Do see me home, please. My companion took offence and ran away.""

"I know."

"And now you're gloating? It was rather cruel. Do you think he really enjoyed going to Genoa Street? Everyone goes there because it's so dull at the club. . . Are you going to see me home?"

I looked at Angelika. Her big, rather slanting eyes were so full of appeal that I could not refuse. I went with her.

"What do you mean 'dull,' Lika? That's silly. You talk as if your Zuzya were a little baby who needed a nurse to play with him. Do you think he gets through one book a year?"

"He doesn't," said Lika and laughed. "You're quite right about that."

"There you are!" I said heatedly. "A chap who never bothers to think and keeps his brains in his feet will feel bored everywhere."

"But tell me, Vasil, what made you spare me in this Charlestoniada of yours? All the time I was expecting to see myself among that dreadful lot."

"We wanted ... we thought..." I muttered, trying to avoid the direct answer. And then I blurted out: "It was mainly the young people from the works we wanted to influence."

"What you really mean is that you consider me past any 'education,' don't you?" And Lika looked at me so intently that I felt embarrassed.

"I didn't say that," I muttered, and thought to myself: "There she goes again, trying to make it a personal issue."

We were walking along the deserted street that led to the sea, and I felt annoyed because this was not at all how I'd planned to spend the evening. Had I been polite, I should have tried to amuse the girl walking at my side, but I kept a stubborn silence.

My thoughts were far from Angelika. Still fresh in my mind was the excitement of the days when all of us, a gay team of young workers, helped by the older men from the works, had been making reapers for Nikita Kolomeyets and clearing the space in the foundry for the new machines.

And what a lot of work lay ahead of us! Flegontov had related how Komsomol members in Leningrad were trying to increase productivity. We wanted to make use of their experience. We'll put up a Lost Minutes screen in our foundry and mark on it every single minute lost through inefficiency, then Kolya Zakabluk will count up how much these minutes cost us... We'll plant out trees and flower-beds in the grounds... There's so much to be done!

As if sensing my thoughts Angelika asked quietly: "Am I bothering you?" : "No, why?"

"Why are you trying to avoid me?" "Our outlook on life is too different," I said frankly. "I quite agree with you, but you must admit it's wrong to regard a person only from one angle." "What do you mean?"

"Well, take for instance the way you look at me. 'Here's a silly, whimsical girl who leads an easy life under her father's wing!'— that's what you're thinking, isn't it?" There was a tone of sadness in Angelika's voice.

"But how can I think differently, Lika, if you yourself. . ."

But she did not let me finish and said passionately: "You like to condemn everything irrevocably,

Vasil! You won't try to understand a person who may have a worm eating at his soul. You mustn't "be like that! Thai time on the boat it was enough for me to say, 'I'm waiting for a lucky chance,' and you immediately reproached me. You didn't even try to understand what I really meant. I know very well that you consider me one of those helpless creatures whose sole desire is to get married. But I wish you'd understand that a future like that won't satisfy me. I don't want to be like those fat merchants' wives who only find pleasure in 'stuffing themselves with food, dolling themselves up, and going out with their husbands on Sundays to show off and gossip about other people..."