MIKHAIL BULGAKOV - THE WHITE GUARD

'Useful thing, a clock. Being without a clock's like being without hands', the wolf said to broken-nose, his attitude to Vasilisa noticeably relenting. 'I like to be able to see what time it is at night.'

Then all three moved off, back through the drawing-room to the study. Together Vasilisa and Wanda followed after them. In the study the wolf, squinting hard, looked thoughtful and said to Vasilisa:

'Better give us a receipt, Mister . . .' (His forehead creased like an accordion as he wrestled with some obviously disturbing thought.)

'What?' whispered Vasilisa.

'Receipt, saying you gave us these things', the wolf explained, staring at the floor.

Vasilisa's expression changed, his cheeks turned pink.

'But how can I . . . What . . .' (He wanted to shout 'What! you mean to say I have to give you a receipt as well!' but quite different words came out.) 'Why do you need a receipt?'

'Ah, you ought to be shot like a dog, you . . . you blood sucker. I know what you're thinking, I know. If your people were in power you'd squash us like insects. I can see there's no good to be

had outof you. Boys, put him up against the wall. I'll give you such a thrashing . . .'

Working himself up until he was shaking with fury, he pushed Vasilisa against the wall and clutched him by the throat, at which Vasilisa instantly turned red.

'Oh!' shrieked Wanda in horror, tugging at the wolf's arm. 'Stop it! Mercy, for God's sake! Vasya, do as he says and write it!'

The wolf released the engineer's throat, and with a crack one half of his collar burst away from the stud as though on a spring. Vasilisa did not remember how he came to be sitting in his chair. With shaking hands he tore a sheet from a note-pad, dipped his pen into the ink. In the silence the crystal globe could be heard ticking in the wolf's pocket.

'What shall I write?' Vasilisa asked in a weak, cracked voice.

The wolf began to think, his eyes blinking.

'Write . . . "By order of headquarters of the cossack division . . . I surrendered . . . articles . . . articles ... to the sergeant as follows"

'As follows . . .' croaked Vasilisa, and was silent.

'Then say what they are . . . "In the course of search. I have no claims." Then sign . . .'

Here Vasilisa gathered the last remnants of the breath in his body and turning his glance away from the wolf, he asked:

'Who shall I say I gave them to?'

The wolf looked suspiciously at Vasilisa, but he restrained his displeasure and only sighed.

'Write: Sergeant Nemolyak . . .' He thought for a moment, glancing at his companions. '. . . Sergeant Kirpaty and Hetman Uragan.'

Staring muzzily at the paper, Vasilisa wrote to the wolf's dictation. Having written it, instead of his proper signature he wrote 'Vasilis' and handed the paper to the wolf, who took it and stared at it.

Just then the glass door at the top of the staircase slammed, footsteps were heard and Myshlaevsky's voice rang out.

The wolf scowled, his companions shuffled uneasily. The wolf turned red in the face and hissed: 'Quiet!' He pulled the automatic out of his pocket and pointed it at Vasilisa, who gave a martyred smile. From the corridor came more footsteps, muffled talk. Then there was the sound of the bolt being drawn, the latch, the chain -and the door was locked again. Footsteps again, men laughing. After that the glass door slammed, the sound of steps receding upstairs and all was quiet. The disfigured man went out into the lobby, leaned his head against the door and listened. When he returned he exchanged meaning glances with the wolf and all three jostled their way out into the lobby. There the giant wriggled his fingers inside his boots, which were rather tight.

'They'll be cold.'

And he put on Vasilisa's rubber overshoes.

The wolf turned to Vasilisa and said shiftily in a low voice:

'See here, mister . . . Don't you tell anyone we've been here. If you inform on us, our boys will beat you up. Don't go out of the house till tomorrow, or you'll be in trouble . . .'

'Sorry', whined the man with the shattered nose.

The rosy-cheeked giant said nothing, but only looked shyly at Vasilisa, then delightedly at his gleaming overshoes. As they walked quickly out of Vasilisa's door and along the passage to the front door, for some reason they tiptoed, jostling each other as they went. The door was noisily unlocked, there was a glimpse of dark sky and with cold hands Vasilisa closed the bolts. His head swam, and for a moment he thought he was dreaming. His heart almost stopped, then started beating faster and faster. In the lobby Wanda was sobbing. She collapsed on to a chest, knocking her head against the wall, and big tears poured down her face.

'God, what's happened to us? God, oh God, Vasya ... in broad daylight. What are we to do?'

Shaking like a leaf, Vasilisa stood in front of her, his face contorted.

'Vasya,' screamed Wanda, 'do you know - they weren't soldiers, they weren't from any headquarters! They were just hoodlums!'

'I know, I realised that', Vasilisa mumbled, spreading his hands in despair.

'Lord!' Wanda exclaimed. 'You must go this minute, report them at once and try and catch them! Mother of God! All our things! Everything! If only there was somebody who . . .' She shuddered and slid from the chest to the floor, covering her face with her hands. Her hair was dishevelled, her blouse unbuttoned at the back.

'But where do we report them?' asked Vasilisa.

'To headquarters, for God's sake, to the police! Make a formal complaint. Quickly. What's the matter?'

Vasilisa, who had been shuffling his feet, suddenly rushed for the door. He ran to the Turbins' glass door and hammered on it noisily.

*

Everybody except Shervinsky and Elena crowded into Vasilisa's apartment. Lariosik, looking pale, stayed in the doorway. Legs planted wide, Myshlaevsky inspected the foot-cloths and other rags abandoned by the unknown visitors and said to Vasilisa:

'Well, you won't see your things again, I'm afraid. They weren't soldiers, just burglars. You can thank God you're still alive. To tell you the truth I'm amazed they let you off so lightly.'

'God - the things they did to us!' said Wanda.

'They threatened to kill me.'

'Thank the Lord they didn't carry out their threat. First time I've ever seen anything like it.'

'Neat piece of work', Karas added quietly.

'What do we do now?' asked Vasilisa miserably. 'Go and complain? But where to? For God's sake advise me, Viktor Viktoro-vich.'

Myshlaevsky grunted thoughtfully.

'I advise you not to complain to anyone', he said. 'Firstly, they'll never catch them.' He crooked his middle finger. 'Secondly . . .'

'Don't you remember, Vasya, they said you'd be killed if you made a complaint.'

'That's nonsense', Myshlaevsky frowned. 'No one's going to kill you, but as I say, they'll never be caught, no one will even try and catch them, and secondly . . .' He crooked his second finger, 'you'll have to describe what they stole, and that means admitting that you were hoarding tsarist money . . . No, if you make a complaint to their headquarters or to anywhere else they will almost certainly have you searched again.'

'Yes, very likely', said Nikolka the specialist.

Shattered, soaking with the water thrown over him when he fainted, Vasilisa hung his head. Wanda quietly burst into tears and leaned against the wall. They all felt sorry for them. Lariosik sighed deeply in the doorway and turned up his lacklustre eyes.

'We each have our grief to bear', he murmured.

'What weapons did they have?' asked Nikolka.

'My God, two of them had revolvers. Did the third man have anything, Vasya?'

'Two of them had revolvers', Vasilisa confirmed weakly.

'Did you notice what type they were?' Nikolka pressed him in a business-like voice.