don't mind telling you this-I never would have believed it! I see I was
mistaken!"
She snatched up her bag, and-bang!-shut the gate right in my face. I
stared after her open-mouthed. Which one of us had gone mad? I or
she?
This was the first disagreeable conversation. It was followed by a
second, and then by a third.
Going home, I met Likho at the front door. I couldn't have chosen a
worse time to talk to him about my essay.
We mounted the stairs together, he, as usual, with his head in the air,
twisting his nose this way and that in such a stupid fashion that I was
strongly tempted to kick him.
"Mr Likho," I suddenly said, "I received my homework. You write:
'Idealism'. This isn't a mark, it's an accusation, which has to be proved
first."
"We'll talk about that some other time."
"No, we'll talk about it now," I said. "I'm a Komsomol member and
you accuse me of idealism. You don't know a thing about it." "What,
what's that?" he demanded, glaring at me. "You have no idea about
idealism," I went on, noting with satisfaction that with every word of
mine his ugly mug grew longer. "You're just trying to be nasty to me,
that's why you've written:
'Idealism.' No wonder they say of you-"
I paused for a moment, feeling that I was about to say something
shockingly rude. I said it nevertheless:
"That you have a head like a coconut, hard outside and watery inside."
101
This was so unexpected that we were both thunderstruck. Then, with
flaring nostrils, he said briefly and ominously: "I see!" And off he strode.
Exactly an hour after this conversation Korablev sent for me. This was
an ominous sign, for Korablev seldom summoned anyone to his house.
It was long since I had seen him looking so angry. With bent head, he
paced the room and when I came in, he drew aside with something like
distaste.
"Look here!" he started, his moustache bristling. "You're giving me a
fine account of yourself. It makes pleasant news!"
"Ivan Pavlovich, I'll explain everything to you in a minute," I said,
trying hard to speak calmly. "I don't like the critics, that's true. But that
doesn't make me an idealist. The other boys and girls copy everything
out from the critics. And that's what he likes. Let him first prove that
I'm an idealist. He ought to know that for me that's an insult."
I held my exercise book out to him but he did not even glance at it.
"You'll have to explain your conduct at the Teachers' Council."
"Certainly! Ivan Pavlovich," I said suddenly, "is it long since you were
at the Tatarinovs?"
"Why?"
"Nothing."
"Well, my lad," he said quietly, "I see you had some reason for being
rude to Likho. Sit down and tell me all about it. No fibs, mind."
I would not have told my own mother that I had fallen in love with
Katya and had been thinking about her all night. That was impossible.
But I had long been wanting to tell Korablev about the changes that had
taken place in the home of the Tatarinovs, changes which I did not like
at all.
He heard me out, pacing from comer to corner of the room. From
time to time he stopped and looked around with a sad expression. My
story seemed to distress him. At one moment his hand even went to his
head, but he caught himself and made as if he were stroking his
forehead.
"All right," he said when I asked him to telephone the Tatarinovs and
find out what it was all about. "I'll do that. You call back in an hour."
"Make it half an hour, Ivan Pavlovich!" He smiled—a sad, good-natured
smile.
I came back to find Korablev sitting on the sofa, smoking. The shaggy
green service jacket, which he always wore when he felt out of sorts, was
thrown over his shoulders and the soft collar of his shirt was undone.
"Well, old chap, you shouldn't have asked me to phone them," he said.
"Now I know all your secrets." "What secrets?"
He looked at me as though he were seeing me for the first time. "You've
got to be able to keep them," he went on. "And you're no good at that.
Today, for instance, you're courting someone and tomorrow the whole
school gets to know about it. It wouldn't be so bad if it were only the
school."
I must have looked pretty sheepish, because Korablev smiled in spite
of himself, just the ghost of a smile. At least twenty thoughts raced
through my head all at once: "Who's done this? Romashka! I'll kill him!
That's why Katya didn't come. That's why the old lady snubbed me."
"I love her, Ivan Pavlovich," I said firmly. He spread his hands.
"I don't care whether the whole school talks about it or not!" "The
school maybe," Korablev said. "But don't you care what Maria
102
Vasilievna and Nina Kapitonovna may say about it?" "No I don't!" I
protested hotly. "But weren't you shown the door at their house?" "What
house? It isn't her house. She dreams of the day she'll finish school and
leave that house."
"Just a minute... Do you mean to say you intend to marry her?" I
collected myself somewhat. "That's nobody's business!"
"Of course not," Korablev hastily put in. "I'm afraid it's not so simple
though. You'll have to ask Katya, after all. Perhaps she isn't planning to
get married yet. In any case you'll have to wait till she gets back from
Ensk."
"Ah," I said very calmly. "So they've sent her away? Fine." Korablev
looked at me again, this time with unconcealed curiosity.
"Her aunt has fallen ill and she's gone to visit her," he said. "She'll be
away several days and will be back for the beginning of the term. That
shouldn't worry you."
"I'm not worrying, Ivan Pavlovich. As for Likho, I'll apologise to him,
if you wish. But let him take back his statement about my being an
idealist."
Then, for fifteen minutes, as though nothing had happened, as though
Katya had not been sent away, as though I had not decided to kill
Romaska, we sat calmly discussing my homework. Then I took my leave,
after getting permission to call again the next day.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I GO TO ENSК
That Romashka! I did not doubt for a moment that it was his doing.
Who else could it be? He had been in the classroom and seen me kiss
Katya.
I stared with hatred at his cot and the bedside table and waited for
him in the dormitory for half an hour. Then I wrote a note demanding
an explanation and threatening that if I did not get it I would denounce
him as a cad in front of the whole school. Then I tore the note up and
went to see Valya at the Zoo.
He was with his rodents, of course. In a dirty lab coat, a pencil behind
his ear and a big notebook under his arm, he was standing by a cage and
feeding bats, who were eating out of his hand. He was feeding worms to
them, looking mightily pleased.
I hailed him. He looked round and I asked: "Have you got any
money?"
"Twenty-seven rubles," Valya said proudly.
"Let's have 'em."
This was cruel, as I knew that Valya was saving up to buy some snakes
or other. But what could I do? I had only seventeen rubles, and the fare
cost that much more.