The mention of her brother’s name threw the girl into a whirl of emotion. She couldn’t believe her ears. “Did you say Lonia’s coming home? Mother, why, that’s wonderful news. The best news ever!” Swallowing her tears, unable to contain her happiness, her cheeks turned a deep red and she looked on fire. She was about to thank Simon Stepanovich, but something made her stop. Thanking him was not as simple as it seemed. In her heart she felt an unexpected thrill. Never before had she seen such a powerful man. His thick, big hands, his graying sideburns, his broad chest, all this became attractive to her in a full-blooded way. His face and bull neck burned hot and there was a savage determination in his eye that hadn’t been there a moment before.
Sobakin was unable to take his eyes off her. His blood tingled. He stood fierce and silent, watching her intently. Finally he said, “Marusia Valentynovna, would you do me the honor of accom-pany-ing me to the cinema tonight? I understand there’s a wonderful film playing at eight o’clock.”
Efrosinia was quick to answer for her daughter. “Don’t you think it’s a little late, Lieutenant? It’s unexpected.”
Sobakin tried not to show his impatience. “Nonsense. The night is young and I hear the film is superb. Well, Marusia Valentynovna, what do you say, shall we make a night of it?”
The girl moved away, feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed. “Perhaps mother is right. Maybe another time.”
“Why another time? If we leave right now, we’ll make it on time. What’s wrong with tonight?”
“Well, I don’t know. I’m really not prepared to go out …”
“What’s to prepare for?” Sobakin almost snapped. He was coming to his wit’s end. The two women were wasting his time, and it made him furious to see how ungrateful and mistrustful they could be, even after he had gone to such lengths to promise to bring their Lonia home. Trying to remain calm, he said, “My good ladies, I’m simply one good neighbor inviting another out for an enjoyable evening. Mamasha, I guarantee you your daughter will be well taken care of. You have absolutely nothing to worry about. She’ll be in good hands, you have my word.”
In the end, although somewhat reluctantly, Marusia and her mother agreed that it would be perfectly acceptable for Marusia to go to the cinema with Simon Stepanovich.
The girl started timidly toward the doorway, and, looking briefly at Sobakin, said, “Please excuse me a moment while I freshen up.” After a short time she returned with her hair pinned up, wearing a brown double-breasted coat belted at the waist and with a knitted shawl over her shoulders.
Simon Stepanovich glanced at her with disapproval. Shaking his head, he said, “No, Marusia Valentynovna, I want you to wear the coat I gave you. Go put it on, please.” She hesitated, but left the room, and returned a moment later wearing the Persian lamb.
Sobakin’s eyes glittered and blood rushed to his neck. “You look absolutely stunning!”
He took her by the arm, said good night to Efrosinia, and led Marusia down the back staircase on their way toward the city center. The snow-covered street was dark and empty, illuminated by the lighted windows of the houses they passed. They walked in silence; the only sound was the crunching of snow beneath their feet. When a cold blast of wind came from the north, the girl lifted her coat collar to keep warm. Just before they reached the first crossroads, they saw a big black car parked on the side of the road. The motor was running and the chauffeur, dressed in NKVD uniform, stood leaning with his back against the driver’s door, smoking a cigarette. When he saw them approaching, he threw down his cigarette and opened the back door.
Simon Stepanovich had made no mention of a car. Marusia hesitated. When she felt his hand at her back, pushing her into the back seat, her heart skipped a beat. She said quickly, “Why don’t we walk, I’d much rather walk. It’s no more than fifteen minutes into the city.”
Sobakin let out a hearty laugh. “You silly girl. Why walk when we have the luxury of a car?”
She settled by the window behind the chauffeur and Simon Stepanovich nestled in beside her. Her pulse beat fast; she was feeling restless and on edge. To her dismay, she noticed that the car had picked up speed and was heading not in the direction of the cinema, but rather, eastward, toward the railway station. Unconsciously squeezing her hands together, she cried out in distress, “Where are you taking me? Why are we traveling in the opposite direction?”
Simon Stepanovich smiled. He brought out a bottle of whiskey from under his seat and took a drink. Then he leaned toward the girl, and stroking her under the chin with his forefinger, whispered quietly, “Why all these questions, my lovely? And why don’t you trust me? You really ought to calm down.” He took another drink. “First I thought we would go the Zalizny Café for a bite to eat, and then later head over to the cinema. There’s no harm in that, is there?”
The girl retreated into her corner. More than anything she was afraid of losing her self-control. Glancing at him, she was horrified to notice how revolting he looked in the dim light. Her heart beat violently. The trap had been set and she could feel herself falling headlong into it.
Finally the car stopped, not in front of the Zalizny Café, as Simon Stepanovich had promised, but before a large dilapidated wooden building with a sign over the main doors: Railway Hotel. Sobakin got out of the car, and after talking with the chauffeur, leaned inside and grabbed her by the arm. Pulling her toward the hotel, he pushed her through the door, into the middle of a spacious foyer, dimly lit by two shale-oil lamps. The walls were covered with a faded yellow wallpaper, and the floor was sooty and damp. The girl was absolutely petrified of Sobakin and of what he might do to her. She wanted to run out the door as fast as her legs could carry her, but she found herself unable to move and stood numbly, in a kind of daze.
Sobakin went up to a small desk against the wall, and called for the concierge. A plump, unkempt, middle-aged woman appeared and nodded to Sobakin to follow her. They climbed a creaky wooden staircase to a darkened corridor lined with doors. The woman pulled a key from her pocket, threw the first door open, and disappeared down the stairs.
The room was small, dingy and poorly lit; two tiny windows with sheer curtains overlooked the street. A dank and musty odor rose from the floorboards; on the roughly plastered walls were patches of mildew. There was a bed at the far end piled with tattered linen and beside it a small table with two rickety chairs. In the center on an old writing desk covered by a clean cloth, was a tray with bread, sausages, fruit compote, boiled eggs — and a bottle of vodka. Marusia felt that the walls were closing in on her; she was completely at Sobakin’s mercy. Stealing a glance at him, she was horrified to see how huge he was. With his clenched fist he could easily knock her down, even knock her unconscious. Not able to move a muscle, deathly pale, she could feel only a kind of sick dread.
“Well, Marusia.” Sobakin picked up the bottle from the table. “Shall we have a drink?”
“I don’t want a drink.”
“You don’t want a drink? You stupid girl.” He burst out laughing. “You think I intend to bite you or something? Now, I’m warning you, don’t give me a hard time. Come here beside me.”
She backed up against the wall. “Stay away from me, Simon Stepanovich. You’re despicable. You’re a monster and a drunk.” Sobakin threw off his overcoat and hurled it across the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, took off his shirt and kicked off his boots. “Very well,” he said, “if you won’t join me, I’ll drink by myself.” In no time he had gulped down three glassesful, and started in on the sausages. Smacking his lips and belching, he poured himself another drink. Marusia, fixed to the spot, knew that he was going to make his move.