Read Online The Complete Works of Isaac Babel Reprint Edition by Isaac Babel, Nathalie Babel, Peter Constantine by Peter Constantine Isaac Babel Nathalie Babel - Free Book Online
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studying the rolls, the coffee, the ham, through her spectacles. She drank the coffee with loud short gulps, and ate the rolls quickly, greedily, almost furtively.
“Mama!” Rimma said to her severely, proudly raising her pretty little face. “I’d like to have a little chat with you. You needn’t blow up. We can settle this quietly, once and for all. I can no longer live with you. Set me free.”
“Fine,” Barbara Stepanovna answered calmly, raising her colorless eyes to look at Rimma. “Is this because of yesterday?”
“Not because of yesterday, but it has to do with yesterday. Fm suffocating here.”
“And what do you intend to do?”
“Fll take some classes, learn stenography, right now the demand—” “Right now stenographers are crawling out of the woodwork! You think the jobs will come running—”
“I wont come to you for help, Mama!” Rimma said shrilly. “I wont come to you for help. Set me free!”
“Fine,” Barbara Stepanovna said again. “Fm not holding you back.” “I want you to give me my passport.”
Tm not giving you your passport.”
The conversation had been unexpectedly restrained. Now Rimma felt that the passport matter gave her a reason to start yelling.
“Well, thats marvelous!” she shouted, with a sarcastic laugh. “I cant go anywhere without my passport!”
Tm not giving you your passport!”
“Ill go turn myself into a kept woman!” Rimma yelled hysterically. “I shall give myself to a policeman!”
“Who do you think will want you?” Barbara Stepanovna answered, critically eyeing her daughters shivering little body and flushed face. “You think a policeman cant find a better—”
Til go to Tverskaya Street!” Rimma shouted. “Ill find myself some old man—I don t want to live with her, with this stupid, stupid, stupid—”
“Ah, so this is how you speak to your mother,” Barbara Stepanovna said, standing up with dignity. “We cant make ends meet, everything is falling apart around us, we re short of everything, all I ask is for a few minutes of peace and quiet, but you ... Wait till your father hears about this!” Tm going to write him myself, to Kamchatka!” Rimma shouted in a frenzy. Til get my passport from him!”
Barbara Stepanovna walked out of the room. Rimma, small and disheveled, paced excitedly up and down the room. Angry, isolated phrases from her future letter to her father tore through her brain.
“Dear Papa!” she would write. “You are busy, I know, but I have to tell you everything. May the allegation that Stanny dozed on my breast lie heavy on Mamas conscience! It was an embroidered cushion that he was dozing on, but the center of gravity lies elsewhere. As Mama is your wife, you will doubtless side with her, but I cant stay here any longer, she is a difficult person! If you want, Papa, I can come to you in Kamchatka, but I will need my passport!”
Rimma paced up and down, while Alla sat on the sofa and watched her. Quiet and mournful thoughts lay heavily on her soul.
“Rimma is fussing about,” she thought, “while I am completely desolate! Everything is painful, nothing makes sense!”
She went to her room and lay down. Barbara Stepanovna came in wearing a corset. She was thickly and naively powdered, flushed, perplexed, and pitiful.
“I just remembered that the Rastokhins are leaving today. I have to give them back their sixty rubles. They threatened to take me to court. There are some eggs in the cupboard. Make some for yourself—I’m going down to the pawnbroker.
• • •
When Marchotski came home from his classes at around six in the evening, he found the entrance hall filled with packed suitcases. There was noise coming from the Rastokhins’ rooms—they were obviously arguing. Right there in the entrance hall Barbara Stepanovna, somehow, with lightning speed and desperate resolution, managed to borrow ten rubles from Marchotski. It was only when he got back to his room that he realized how
“Mama!” Rimma said to her severely, proudly raising her pretty little face. “I’d like to have a little chat with you. You needn’t blow up. We can settle this quietly, once and for all. I can no longer live with you. Set me free.”
“Fine,” Barbara Stepanovna answered calmly, raising her colorless eyes to look at Rimma. “Is this because of yesterday?”
“Not because of yesterday, but it has to do with yesterday. Fm suffocating here.”
“And what do you intend to do?”
“Fll take some classes, learn stenography, right now the demand—” “Right now stenographers are crawling out of the woodwork! You think the jobs will come running—”
“I wont come to you for help, Mama!” Rimma said shrilly. “I wont come to you for help. Set me free!”
“Fine,” Barbara Stepanovna said again. “Fm not holding you back.” “I want you to give me my passport.”
Tm not giving you your passport.”
The conversation had been unexpectedly restrained. Now Rimma felt that the passport matter gave her a reason to start yelling.
“Well, thats marvelous!” she shouted, with a sarcastic laugh. “I cant go anywhere without my passport!”
Tm not giving you your passport!”
“Ill go turn myself into a kept woman!” Rimma yelled hysterically. “I shall give myself to a policeman!”
“Who do you think will want you?” Barbara Stepanovna answered, critically eyeing her daughters shivering little body and flushed face. “You think a policeman cant find a better—”
Til go to Tverskaya Street!” Rimma shouted. “Ill find myself some old man—I don t want to live with her, with this stupid, stupid, stupid—”
“Ah, so this is how you speak to your mother,” Barbara Stepanovna said, standing up with dignity. “We cant make ends meet, everything is falling apart around us, we re short of everything, all I ask is for a few minutes of peace and quiet, but you ... Wait till your father hears about this!” Tm going to write him myself, to Kamchatka!” Rimma shouted in a frenzy. Til get my passport from him!”
Barbara Stepanovna walked out of the room. Rimma, small and disheveled, paced excitedly up and down the room. Angry, isolated phrases from her future letter to her father tore through her brain.
“Dear Papa!” she would write. “You are busy, I know, but I have to tell you everything. May the allegation that Stanny dozed on my breast lie heavy on Mamas conscience! It was an embroidered cushion that he was dozing on, but the center of gravity lies elsewhere. As Mama is your wife, you will doubtless side with her, but I cant stay here any longer, she is a difficult person! If you want, Papa, I can come to you in Kamchatka, but I will need my passport!”
Rimma paced up and down, while Alla sat on the sofa and watched her. Quiet and mournful thoughts lay heavily on her soul.
“Rimma is fussing about,” she thought, “while I am completely desolate! Everything is painful, nothing makes sense!”
She went to her room and lay down. Barbara Stepanovna came in wearing a corset. She was thickly and naively powdered, flushed, perplexed, and pitiful.
“I just remembered that the Rastokhins are leaving today. I have to give them back their sixty rubles. They threatened to take me to court. There are some eggs in the cupboard. Make some for yourself—I’m going down to the pawnbroker.
• • •
When Marchotski came home from his classes at around six in the evening, he found the entrance hall filled with packed suitcases. There was noise coming from the Rastokhins’ rooms—they were obviously arguing. Right there in the entrance hall Barbara Stepanovna, somehow, with lightning speed and desperate resolution, managed to borrow ten rubles from Marchotski. It was only when he got back to his room that he realized how
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