It needn’t say a thing,
Or even try to learn.
It’s sad this way - but also good A simple animal souclass="underline"
It doesn’t yearn to preach,
It cannot even speak
But swims, like a young dolphin,
The aged oceans of the universe.
It was partly this wonder-struck curiosity - too "nihilistic’ for Soviet rule - which had delivered Mandelshtam to tragedy. And Oktyabrina? ...
Finally the court retired to deliberate the verdict. We learned this from witnesses who emerged from the courtroom, complaining about how late it was to manage their shopping. Word spread that an "interesting’ trial was approaching its climax, and most people still in the building pushed into our corridor to await the verdict. I hated them for adding to the tension without understanding what was at stake.
Soviet law stipulates that even after a closed trial, the reading of the verdict must be open to the public. But when the court had apparently returned from deliberation, only witnesses were permitted inside the courtroom. The police lieutenant slammed the door shut again, like a blade across my throat.
Minutes later the door opened for the last time. The first policeman out had a pulpy vodka face. "Five vears, normal 242
regimen,’ he croaked. ‘Clear the way there you - move aside.’
We did not believe him: real trials do not end this way. Soon the prosecutor emerged followed by Kuperman, sadly confirming the sentence. The spectators pressed closer, like the Paris rabble straining for a glimpse of the doomed. A police detachment cleared a passageway. When would the judge come to announce the reprieve?
Then Oktyabrina appeared, escorted by a wart-hog of a policewoman and two male colleagues. Her big eyes were pallid, but otherwise she looked healthy and inexplicably taller than before. When she made us out in the murkiness of the corridor, she broke into a grin of relief. It was her first sight of friends since her arrest. But she quickly reshaped the grin into a pout.
‘Honestly, you big darlings,’ she began. ‘How many times have I told you: gossip at the well lets the herd go to hell.’
Then she caught sight of the Minister in the comer and grinned again, despite herself. ‘Aloha, my dear friend,’ she cried. She waved as if from shipboard and blew him a kiss.
‘For goodness sake, don’t fuss ,’ she exclaimed. ‘Read a novel called Resurrection : people who are sure about their inner selves thrive on pressures from without.’
All this took less than a minute. Angered by her exchange with non-prisoners, the police escort yanked her away -towards the basement cells, and from there back to jail Her shoulders were slanted in a certain way which perhaps only I could interpret. I knew she was trying to concentrate on something. Half way down the corridor, she threw her head over her shoulder and her eyes instantly seeped to the depths of mine. It was the same look as when we first met at Kostya’s - an obvious artifice to make me feel special. Except that the pretense was gone and more than I’d ever understood was added.
‘Zhoe!’ she called. ‘I’m not walking this rocky road alone. Because I remember everything, understand everything. You simply cant leave me now.’ The pohcewoman shoved
her forward and she was gone.
The Minister made a move to follow, but stopped and looked at the ceiling. 'So she’s finished too/ he stuttered. 'That sprig of youth. And many of our great people will savor its snapping. Oh yes, with somebody else’s ass, it’s fine to sit on a porcupine.’
He wiped his nose and stared at the handkerchief. 'G-good G-god, my 1-language - I’m b-becoming one of t-them. Who w-wants some c-cognac, I can’t go h-h-home.’
Gelda took his arm and pulled him to the first of many evenings together. At the last minute, the Minister kissed me and begged that I take his briefcase. He had no need of it, he said, and nothing better to give.
'T-try not t-to think about h-her,’ he said quietly. ‘T-try not to think of m-me. At least you were n-n-never the t-type to g-get r-romantically involved.’
Kostya and I walked the opposite way from the courthouse into the needles of frozen mist. 'Listen, Zhoe buddy,’ he said, ‘hop on the next plane to Paris or somewhere - you need a vacation. We all loved her, but the kid was the one in a million for you.’
25
The five years are being served in a labor camp. After Stalin, they were renamed 'colonies’, but the improvement is largely semantic. Sheer survival is not always at stake for the prisoners, but thanks to grueling physical labor on a deprived diet, it dominates their thoughts. Labor-camp policy makes even ordinary appetites groan; although Oktyabrina’s 'normal regimen’ gives her the maximum of 2,100 calories a day, she will never have a moment free from hunger.
Kuperman assumes she is in a women’s colony of the Mordovian Autonomous Republic, a swampy region with a 244
severe climate some four hundred miles east of Moscow. He does not know precisely which camp; this information is not revealed. Kuperman did not advise appealing against either the verdict or sentence: there was virtually no hope for either, and any commotion might lessen her chances for parole after three years. He is convinced that someone in the Moscow City Communist Party had fixed her sentence prior to the trial, and it is wiser not to oppose such decisions now but wait for an easing of the anti-hooligan campaign.
Four days after the trial, Komsomolskaya Pravda ran a second article about Oktyabrina. The author was the genial correspondent who’d shared our vigil.
Following up the Initiatives of KOMSOMOLSKAYA PRAVDA:
THE FINALE OF LA DOLCE VITA
Oktyabrina Matveyeva is being tried:
The same girl whom this newspaper described in abundant detail last month in the feuilleton ‘Riff-Raff’. Today we can answer the storm of indignation and outrage that her behavior provoked among our readers. For the acts which soiled the dignity of the Soviet people , Matveyeva was brought to criminal justice.
Frankly , it’s sad to see such a girl in the dock. She should be dashing to class with excited girl friends, discussing her infatuation with some newly-discovered poetry, turning the heads of happy young cavaliers - for nature has not shortchanged her.
In short, she should be living life to the hilt and growing up: learning to be a responsible adult.
Rut no, she’s here - in the dock of a criminal court. Alone of her ‘magnificent lovers’ has managed to ‘rescue’ her -even bothered to visit the court for support. But this will not deter the court from its duty to administer justice in accordance with V. I. Lenin’s teachings.
Matveyeva’s guilt is spelled out in great detail. The facts are meticulously established and corroborated by documents
and witnesses’ testimony. Moreover, Matveyeva herself denies nothing. N evertheless, the trial lasts many hours . With great tact and benevolence Judge Pyotr Vladimorovich Milutin tries to penetrate Matveyeva’s soul. One senses that they see before them not primarily a criminal, but a person - one whose whole life still lies ahead. ( Incidentally, it’s a pity no one thought of televising the proceedings. They would have been extremely instructive.)
Step by step, sparing her vanity, the Judge lays bare her character. But nothing has changed. She still refuses to understand how she has poured filth on her Motherland and people. On the contrary she demonstrates her contempt for society by insulting the Judge.
Question: And now, Oktyabrina. Do you still see nothing wrong in being supported by one man after another?
Matveyeva: They never complained about not getting their money’s worth. If you must know, some were in love with me.
Question: Have you ever thought about what you live for Oktyabrina? Ever thought about your relationship to the ideals, work and sacrifices taking place all around you for our common goals?