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Valya blinked, then looked at me gravely and got out the money.

"I'm going away."

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"Where to?"

"To Ensk."

"What for?"

"Tell you when I get back. Meanwhile, let me tell you-Romashka's a

cad. You're chummy with him, because you don't know what a cad he is.

And if you do know, then you're a cad yourself. That's all. So long."

I had one foot outside the door when Valya called me back, and in

such a queer voice that I spun round.

"Sanya," he muttered, "I'm not chummy with him. Besides..."

He fell silent.

"It's my fault," he went on with an air of decision. "I should have

warned you. You remember that business about Korablev, don't you?"

"I should say so!"

"Well, it was him!"

"What about him?"

"He went to Nikolai Antonich and told him everything."

"No!"

In a flash I recollected that evening when, on returning from the

Tatarinovs, I had told Valya about the conspiracy they were hatching

against Korablev.

"But I only told you about it."

"Yes, but Romashka was eavesdropping."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Valya hung his head.

"He made me give my word of honour," he muttered. "Besides, he

threatened that he'd look at me at night. You know I hate being looked

at at night. It's silly, I know. It started with me waking up once to find

him looking at me."

"You're simply a fool, that's all."

"He writes everything down in a book and then snitches to Nikolai

Antonich," Valya went on miserably. "He makes life hell for me. He

narks on people and then tells me all about it. I stop my ears, but he

goes on telling."

"You're a poor yap, you are!" I said. "I've no time to talk to you now,

but I think you ought to write to the Komsomol group about that little

book of his. I never thought he'd bully you like that. How many words of

honour did you give him?"

"I don't remember," Valya mumbled.

"We'll count 'em up."

He looked at me mournfully.

From the Zoo I went to the railway station to book my ticket, and

from there back to school. I had a good case of drawing instruments and

decided to take it with me to sell if I was up against it.

And now to all the follies I had committed was added another one—

one that I had to pay for with interest.

When I entered the dormitory there were about ten people there,

among them Tania Velichko, a girl from my form. They were all engaged

in some occupation, some reading and others talking. Nobody was

paying any attention to Romashka, who was kneeling by my bed and

rummaging in my box.

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This new act of treachery was the last straw. The blood rushed to my

head and I went over to him with an even tread and said to him in an

even voice: "What are you looking for, Romashka?"

He looked up at me with startled eyes, and worked up as I was at that

moment, I could not help noticing his striking resemblance to an owl—

with that white face of his and those big red ears.

"Katya's letters?" I went on. "Want to hand them over to Nikolai

Antonich? Here they are. Take 'em."

And I kicked him hard in the face.

I had spoken in a quiet voice, so nobody expected that I was going to

hit him. I believe I gave him two or three more kicks. I would have killed

him but for Tania Velichko. While the boys stood open-mouthed, she

rushed between us, grabbed hold of me and pushed me away with such

force that I sat down on the bed.

"You're crazy."

As if through a mist I saw her face and realised that she was looking at

me with abhorrence. I recollected myself.

"I'll explain everything, boys," I said shakily.

They were all silent. Romashka lay on the floor with his head thrown

back. There was a blue bruise on his cheek. I took my box and went out.

I wandered heavy-hearted about the railway station for nearly three

hours. I felt beastly as I read the newspaper, studied the timetable, and

drank tea in the third-class buffet. I was hungry, but the tea seemed

tasteless and the sandwiches wouldn't go down my throat. I somehow

felt sullied after that scene in the dormitory. Ah, well, I didn't have to go

back to school anyway. But the instrument case? Who the hell needed

it? As if I couldn't get the money for my return fare from Aunt Dasha!"

CHAPTER TWELVE

HOME AGAIN

One impression has remained with me after that journey through the

places where Pyotr Skovorodnikov and I used to ramble, stealing and

begging - an impression of incomparable freedom.

For the first time in my life I was travelling by rail with a ticket. I

could sit at the window, chat with my fellow-passengers, or smoke, had I

been a smoker. I did not have to crawl under the seat when the ticket-

collector came round. I handed him my ticket with a casual air, without

interrupting my conversation. It was an extraordinary sensation—a

feeling of spaciousness, though the carriage was pretty crowded. I found

it amusing, and I was thinking now about Ensk— about my sister, Aunt

Dasha, and how I would spring a surprise on them and they would not

recognise me.

With this thought I fell asleep and slept so long that my fellow-

passengers began to wonder whether I was alive or not.

How good it is to return to one's home town after an absence of eight

years! Everything is so familiar yet unfamiliar. Could that be the

governor's house? I had thought it so huge once. Could that be

Zastennaya Street? Was it so narrow and crooked? And is it

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Lopukhinsky Boulevard? The boulevard gladdened me, though: all

down the main avenue, behind the lime trees, stretched a line of

splendid new buildings. The black lime trees looked like a pencil

drawing on a white background and their black shadows lay aslant on

the white snow- it made a beautiful picture.

I walked fast, and at every step I kept recognising old landmarks or

viewing new ones with surprise. There was the orphanage in which Aunt

Dasha had been going to put my sister and me; it was now a green

colour and a big marble plaque had appeared on the wall with gold

lettering on it. I could not believe my eyes-it said: "Alexander Pushkin

stayed in this house in 1824". Well I never! In that house! What airs the

orphanage kids would have given themselves had they known this!

And here were the "Chambers", where Mother and I had once handed

in a petition. The place did not look half as imposing now. The old low

grating had been removed from the windows and at the gate hung a

signboard saying: Cultural Centre.

And there were the ramparts. My heart beat faster at the sight of

them. A granite embankment stretched before me, and I hardly

recognised our poor old shelving river bank. But what astonished me

more than anything was to find our houses gone and in their place a

public garden had been laid out and on the seats sat nannies holding

infants wrapped up like little mummies. I had expected anything but

this. I stood for a long time on the ramparts surveying with amazement

the garden, the granite embankment and the boulevard, on which we

used to play tipcat. On the site of the common back of the small grocery