Read Online The Naked Year by Boris Pilnyak - Free Book Online Page B

Fausse-couche–it’s very simple,” Lidia smiles intimately. “How many times is this?”
    â€œSecond.”
    â€œAnd who is he?”
    â€œKarrik. An army instructor. An officer, a Party member, but not a Communist.”
    â€œAnd how old are you?”
    â€œNineteen, nearly twenty.”
    â€œIs that so! At your age I feared marriage like the plague.”
    â€œIt happens to Olya Kuntz just about every month. She’s got some midwife… very cheap. You look surprised, everyone now…”
    â€œNo, you must see a doctor! No midwives! And in general abortion’s a dangerous business. You’ll see a doctor today! ach!” Lidia is silent for a long time, she rubs her hands and whispers:–“And again such a long day, completely useless, like the desert… Well, yes, and I’m alone, alone! There’s the story about the frog-princess–why, why did young Prince Ivan burn my frog skin?… Ah, well…”
    And through the open windows, in the park, it is June over the earth. Over the earth, over the town it was June, always beautiful, always extraordinary, in its crystal dawns, in its dewy mornings, in its light days and nights. In the maids’ attic the ceilings are low, the walls white, and honey bees hum in the open square windows. Every woman–an undrained delight. However, Natalya… That morning Natalya told her mother that she was going away from home, into the hospital. The same morning mother met Yegor in the corridor.
    â€œYegor, come here! Tell the truth.”
    Yegor slowly approaches his mother, stands next to her–his hands are lowered, his head is lowered, there is anguish and shame in his bloodshot eyes.
    â€œYegor, were you drinking last night? Were you drunk?”
    â€œYes,” answers Yegor quietly.
    â€œWhere did you get the money?”
    Yegor is silent.
    â€œWhere did you get the money? Tell the truth!”
    â€œI… I sold Natalya’s, Natalya’s coat for the drink money.”
    Mother makes a short swing with her mighty fist and strikes Yegor on his flabby cheek. Yegor does not move.
    â€œTake that! Now get out of my sight and don’t dare leave your room. Don’t you dare play any music. Get out of my sight! Keep quiet!”
    Yegor moves away with his tail between his legs. And then through the rooms echoes Boris’s wild cry:
    â€œBut I don’t want to keep silent! It’s time you were quiet! I’ve had enough. That’ll do!… Yelena Yermilovna, Yelenka! run to Yegor, you rat, and say that I, Gleb, Natalya–we protest! run, rat!… Mother, you merchant’s wife!… take care!… Martha! Vodka!… Mother, you bitch, you merchant’s wife–get it through your bronze skull, that your roberonde days are finished!… Finished, all finished!… Aa-ach!… Yegor, go and play, play, the Internationale!”
    â€œSilence, Bolshevik! I’m your mother, I’ll teach you!… I feed you!”
    â€œWha-at? You feed me?! Plundered goods feed us–stolen goods!.. Martha, vodka!…”
    In the Princess’s room–it is dark, abundantly spread about are cupboards, chests of drawers, tall-boys, two beds with canopies. On the dark walls, in circular frames, hang faded head and shoulder portraits and photographs. The curtains are somberly lowered over the windows. In gold-rimmed spectacles, the Princess is standing by her open writing bureau, open in front of her are her account books: “Provisions,” “Breakages,” “Servants’ account,” “Linen,” “Clothing,” “The children.”
    In “Breakages” the princess enters:
    â€œTonya broke one glass.”
    Into “The children”:
    â€œYegor punished, Natalya gone mad–going to live in the hospital away from her parental home. God is her judge, ten rou(bles) to Ksenya as a gift.”
    Into