Darkness at Noon - Arthur Koestler [44]
of the legation drew Rubashov's attention to certain necessary changes in his dress and in his style of living--the First Secretary had before the Revolution forged money in the service of the Party--he did not do this in a comradely, humorous way, but with such underlined consideration and tact that the scene became embarrassing and got on Rubashov's nerves. Rubashov had twelve subordinates, each with a clearly defined rank; there were First and Second Assistants, First and Second Book-keepers, Secretaries and Assistant Secretaries. Rubashov had the feeling that the whole bunch of them regarded him as something between a national hero and a robber chief. They treated him with exaggerated respect and indulgently superior tolerance. When the Secretary to the legation had to report to him about a document, he made an effort to express himself in the simple terms one would use to a savage or a child. Rubashov's private secretary, Arlova, got on his nerves the least; only he could not understand why she wore such ridiculously high-heeled, patent-leather shoes with her pleasant, simple blouses and skirts. It was nearly a month before he first spoke to her in a conversational tone. He was tired by dictating and walking up and down, and suddenly became aware of the silence in the room. "Why do you never say anything, Comrade Arlova?" he asked, and sat down in the comfortable chair behind his writing-desk. "If you like," she answered in her sleepy voice, "I will always repeat the last word of the sentence." Every day she sat on her chair in front of the desk, in her embroidered blouse, her heavy, shapely bust bent over the note-book, with bowed head and ear-rings hanging parallel to her cheeks. The only jarring element was the patent leather shoes with pointed heels, but she never crossed her legs, as most of the women did whom Rubashov knew. As he always walked up and down while dictating, he usually saw her from behind or half in profile, and the thing he remembered most clearly was the curve of her bent neck. The back of her neck was neither fluffy nor shaved; the skin was white and taut over the vertebrae; below were the embroidered flowers on the edge of her white blouse. In his youth Rubashov had not had much to do with women; nearly always they were comrades, and nearly always the start of the affair had been a discussion prolonged so late into the night that whichever was the other's guest missed the last tram home. After that unsuccessful attempt at a conversation, another fortnight passedAt first Arlova had really repeated the last word of the dictated sentence in her drowsy voice; then she had given it up, and when Rubashov paused, the room was again still and saturated with her sisterly perfume. One afternoon, to his own surprise, Rubashov stopped behind her chair, put both his hands lightly on her shoulders, and asked her whether she would go out with him in the evening. She did not jerk back and her shoulders kept still under his touch; she nodded in silence and did not even turn her head. It was not a habit of Rubashov's to make frivolous jokes, but later in the same night he could notforbear saying with a smile: "One would think you were still taking down dictation." The outline of her large, well-shaped breast seemed as familiar against the darkness of the room as though she had always been there. Only the ear-rings now lay flax on the pillow. Her eyes had the same expression as ever, when she pronounced that sentence which could no more leave Rubashov's memory than the folded hands of thePietà , and the smell of sea-weed in the harbour town: "You will always be able to do what you like with me." "But why?" asked Rubashov, astonished and slightly startled She did not answer. Probably she was already asleep. Asleep, her breathing was as inaudible as waking. Rubashov had never noticed that she breathed at all. He had never seen her with shut eyes. It made her face strange to him; it was much more expressive with shut eyes than with open. Strange to him also were the dark shadows of her armpits; her chin, otherwise