‘Yes, I noticed,’ I said. I had no interest in talking to this ridiculous man.
‘They aren’t really scars at all,’ he said with unexpected sadness. ‘They’re a strange tale of love written on my hide. That’s how you have to read them.’
He laughed in a curious way, almost as if he were choking. ‘I worked some time ago on a Volga steamer that belonged to the Caucasus-Mercury Company. I was a waiter in the restaurant. Well, on one of our trips, a girl who was about to finish gymnasium boarded the boat at Kostroma on her way downriver to Simbirsk. I’d had lots of women by then – shipboard girlfriends mostly. I had an easy way with them. Some men weep, beat their heads against the wall if a woman falls out of love with them. Not me. I took what I wanted and got more than my share. And if some woman had had enough, so what – good riddance, I’d say! The greedy ones always seemed to fall for me. All the women I knew were greedy – either for love or for money. Most of them were waitresses or kitchen maids, young ones … Well … so this schoolgirl comes aboard and makes her way to the restaurant for some dinner. All on her little lonesome. Pale, beautiful, and by the look of her this was all new to her and made her feel a bit shy. Her plaits were of pure gold, thick and luxurious, pulled back around the nape of her neck. I brushed them with a hand while waiting on her. Sent a shiver right through me – those plaits seemed somehow so cold and springy. I begged her pardon, of course, but she just frowned, glanced at me, said not to worry and then tidied her hair. A proud girl, you could see it.
‘Well, I thought, I’ve had it this time! What really knocked me over was some sort of purity about her, like an apple tree in blossom, you know, sweet-smelling all over. I was hooked. Feelings took hold of my body, I even started moaning. The thought of her getting off at Simbirsk and me stuck on the boat with my damned broken heart was enough to make me want to bash my head against the wall and howl with misery. But I held myself together. I had to be patient – Simbirsk was still two full days away. I made sure to serve her only the best of everything. I even promised the cook a bottle of vodka if he’d add a little extra garnish to her plates. She was young, inexperienced, and didn’t notice a thing. She was a young lady, just a girl, to be honest. I tried talking to her, even though this was strictly forbidden. Quick, silent service, and no talking to the fine paying customers – those were our orders. Don’t go sticking your dirty mug in where it doesn’t belong, heaven forbid! You’re a servant, so act like one: “Yes, sir!” “Right away, sir!” “May I take your order, sir?” “Thank you very much, sir.” That was for if they tipped you.
‘I was having trouble finding a chance to talk to her. The other waiter, Nikodim, was always hovering around. Then I had a bit of luck – Nikodim went off to the kitchen. I asked her immediately: “Miss, where might you be going?” She raised her eyes – they were dark and grey, her lashes as velvety as the night – and said: “Simbirsk. Why?” That “Why” brought me to my knees. “No particular reason,” I said. “It’s just that since you are travelling alone, I feel I ought to warn you that there all sorts of people on board. One might say dirty people, shameless people, especially when it comes to defenceless young ladies such as yourself.” She looked at me and said: “I know.” And then she smiled. At that moment I knew that I would give all the blood in my body – drop by precious drop without so much as even a groan – for every one of her smiles.
‘I never got another chance to speak to her. I did, however, take the flowers from a couple of the other tables and put them on hers – a small token, I thought, to show her she was dearer to me than all the world. Not that she noticed.
‘Just before Simbirsk, Nikodim kicked up a row, and right in front of her too. “What are you doing taking my flowers from the table? Tulips, no less!” She guessed immediately what was going on and blushed but kept her eyes down.
‘Believe me when I say I’ve never before told this story to a soul. You’re the first. It’s not a thing you can tell the boys. They’ll turn it into something dirty, but I swear to you on the life of my old mother, it was the finest thing I’ve ever known. I may be a crook, an honest-to-God thief if you like, but I’d never stoop so low as to tell this to the gang. Do you believe me?’
‘I do. Tell me, what happened in the end?’
‘It’s not over yet,’ he said, and then repeated himself in an unexpectedly threatening voice: ‘It’s not over yet! That’s what I believe. And you’ve got no right to put doubts in my head. Stop trying to confuse me. So … we were supposed to arrive at Simbirsk the next morning, and you wouldn’t guess what I was thinking. I now knew for certain that I couldn’t bear to be parted from her. Whether from afar, or on the sly, I had to follow her until my dying day. I didn’t need much. Just to breathe the air around her would be enough, for any other air was poison for me. Can you believe this? You’ve read books about love – this kind of thing has to be in there. Well, that night I worked out a nice plan in my head. While it was still dark, I stole the takings from the restaurant’s cash box and as soon as we tied up at Simbirsk, I hopped ashore still dressed in my waiter’s outfit as if I were on my way to buy some radishes. Except I never came back.
‘My clothes looked suspicious, but since I had some money, I was able to buy myself a jacket. You can bet I tracked her down. To my good fortune, just across from the house where she was living with her grandmother – an old kind of place with a garden and gooseberry bushes – there was an inn. It was small and rundown, didn’t even have a canary singing in a cage. I took a seat and made myself comfortable. I made up a story about how I was waiting for a friend to buy some geese from him in Simbirsk. The man was obviously late. What I didn’t know myself at the time, you never buy geese in summer, only in autumn.’
‘Well, did you see her?’ I asked.
‘I did. Twice. She waltzed right through my soul and took everything with her. I had no idea what was happening, but I did know this: I was happy. She didn’t suspect a thing, of course, and had no doubt already forgotten all about me. I know, I’m not much to look at – got the teeth of a ferret and the eyes of a rat. What’s more, one eye goes one way, the other another. Damned things. Might as well tear them out. Nope, you can’t buy or steal beauty, try all you will.’
A Petlyura machine-gun fired a lazy burst from the edge of the woods and then went quiet.
‘This is all nonsense,’ he said. ‘The Hetman, Petlyura. And all this fuss and running about. I have no idea what the point of it is, and I don’t care to find out.’
He was silent for a while. I said: ‘Well, go on. Since you’ve started, don’t stop.’
‘I’m not going to. I’d been in Simbirsk no more than ten days when the innkeeper – a kind but sickly sort – took me aside and said in a whisper: “The police have been nosing around here, asking about you. Careful, young fellow, they don’t catch you. You a thief?” “No, I’m no thief and I never would have been if it hadn’t been for the love of a woman.” “Well, the court won’t take love into account. It’s not in the book. You’d better not come around here anymore. Look out for yourself.” And I decided – nope, no jail for me. I had to be free as a bird if I wasn’t going to lose my woman. I had to give them the slip, cover my tracks.
‘So, I left for Syzran that very day to lie low, but they caught up with me like a sitting duck just three days later. They took me by boat to Samara under the watch of two armed guards. We were approaching Simbirsk. I looked out of the porthole and could see that very house and garden where she lived. I asked the guards: “I haven’t eaten in two days, would you mind bringing me up to the third-class buffet?” Well, they felt bad for me so they took me there. I softly asked the barmaid if I might have a glass of vodka. She poured me one. I drained it in one gulp, then smashed the glass, and began tearing at my face with the jagged pieces still in my hand. It was like I was washing my face with the bloody shards. Because of my unbearable anguish. The whole counter was covered in blood. Ever since I’ve worn these scars on my mug. Made me that much prettier.’