The Seven Who Were Hanged Part 11

"I hold my own."

Werner was delighted.

"That's the way, that's the way. Good boy. That's the way."

But his eyes met Vasily's dark, wearied glance fixed upon him from the distance and he thought with instant sorrow: "From where is he looking?

From where is he speaking?" and with profound tenderness, with which people address a grave, he said:

"Vasya, do you hear? I love you very much."

"So do I love you very much," answered the tongue, moving with difficulty.

Suddenly Musya took Werner by the hand and with an expression of surprise, she said like an actress on the stage, with measured emphasis:

"Werner, what is this? You said, 'I love'? You never before said 'I love' to anybody. And why are you all so--tender and serene? Why?"

"Why?"

And like an actor, also accentuating what he felt, Werner pressed Musya's hand firmly:

"Yes, now I love very much. Don't tell it to the others,--it isn't necessary, I feel somewhat ashamed, but I love deeply."

Their eyes met and flashed up brightly, and everything about them seemed to have plunged in darkness. It is thus that in the flash of lightning all other lights are instantly darkened and the heavy yellow flame casts a shadow upon earth.

"Yes," said Musya, "yes, Werner."

"Yes," he answered, "yes, Musya, yes."

They understood each other and something was firmly settled between them at this moment. And his eyes glistening, Werner again became agitated and quickly stepped over to Sergey.

"Seryozha!"

But Tanya Kovalchuk answered. Almost crying with maternal pride, she tugged Sergey frantically by the sleeve.

"Listen, Werner! I am crying here for him, I am wearing myself to death, and he is occupying himself with gymnastics!"

"According to the Mueller system?" smiled Werner.

Sergey knit his brow confusedly.

"You needn't laugh, Werner. I have convinced myself conclusively--"

All began to laugh. Drawing strength and courage from one another, they gradually regained their poise--became the same as they used to be. They did not notice this, however, and thought that they had never changed at all. Suddenly Werner interrupted their laughter and said to Sergey very earnestly:

"You are right, Seryozha. You are perfectly right."

"No, but you must understand," said Golovin gladly. "Of course, we--"

But at this point they were asked to start. And their jailers were so kind as to permit them to ride in pairs, as they pleased. Altogether the jailers were extremely kind; even too kind. It was as if they tried partly to show themselves humane and partly to show that they were not there at all, but that everything was being done as by machinery. But they were all pale.

"Musya, you go with him." Werner pointed at Vasily, who stood motionless.

"I understand," Musya nodded. "And you?"

"I? Tanya will go with Sergey, you go with Vasya.... I will go alone.

That doesn't matter, I can do it, you know."

When they went out in the yard, the moist, soft darkness rushed warmly and strongly against their faces, their eyes, taking their breath away, then suddenly it penetrated their bodies tenderly and refreshingly. It was hard to believe that this wonderful effect was produced simply by the spring wind, the warm, moist wind. And the really wonderful spring night was filled with the odor of melting snow, and through the boundless s.p.a.ce the noise of drops resounded. Hastily and frequently, as though trying to overtake one another, little drops were falling, striking in unison a ringing tune. Suddenly one of them would strike out of tune and all was mingled in a merry splash in hasty confusion. Then a large, heavy drop would strike firmly and again the fast, spring melody resounded distinctly. And over the city, above the roofs of the fortress, hung a pale redness in the sky reflected by the electric lights.

"U-ach!" Sergey Golovin heaved a deep sigh and held his breath, as though he regretted to exhale from his lungs the fine, fresh air.

"How long have you had such weather?" inquired Werner. "It's real spring."

"It's only the second day," was the polite answer. "Before that we had mostly frosty weather."

The dark carriages rolled over noiselessly one after another, took them in by twos, started off into the darkness--there where the lantern was shaking at the gate. The convoys like gray silhouettes surrounded each carriage; the horseshoes struck noisily against the ground, or plashed upon the melting snow.

When Werner bent down, about to climb into the carriage, the gendarme whispered to him:

"There is somebody else going along with you."

Werner was surprised.

"Where? Where is he going? Oh, yes! Another one? Who is he?"

The gendarme was silent. Indeed, in a dark corner a small, motionless but living figure pressed close to the side of the carriage. By the reflection of the lantern Werner noticed the flash of an open eye.

Seating himself, Werner pushed his foot against the other man's knee.

"Excuse me, comrade."

The man made no reply. It was only when the carriage started, that he suddenly asked in broken Russian, speaking with difficulty:

"Who are you?"

"I am Werner, condemned to hanging for the attempt upon N--. And you?"

"I am Yanson. They must not hang me."

They were riding thus in order to appear two hours later face to face before the inexplicable great mystery, in order to pa.s.s from Life to Death--and they were introducing each other. Life and Death moved simultaneously, and until the very end Life remained life, to the most ridiculous and insipid trifles.

"What have you done, Yanson?"

"I killed my master with a knife. I stole money."

It seemed from the tone of his voice that Yanson was falling asleep.

Werner found his flabby hand in the darkness and pressed it. Yanson withdrew it drowsily.

"Are you afraid?" asked Werner.