Darkness at Noon - Arthur Koestler [96]
"A lot you understand about it,"sighed Wassilij. Vera Wassiljovna threw him a quick glance which had the effect of making him turn his head to the wall again. Each time she gave him that peculiarglance, Wassilij was reminded that he was in Vera Wassiljovna's way, who wanted to have the porter's lodge for herself. Three weeks ago, she and a junior mechanic at her factory had put their names down together in the marriage register, but the pair had no home; the boy shared a room with two colleagues and nowadays it often was many years before one was assigned a flat by the housing trust. The Primus was at last alight. Vera Wassiljovna put the kettle on it. "The cell secretary read us the resolution. In it is written that we demand that the traitors be mercilessly exterminated. Whoever shows pity to them ishimself a traitor and must be denounced," she explained in a purposely matter-of-fact voice. "The workers must be watchful. We have each received a copy of the resolution in order to collect signatures for it." Vera Wassiljovna took a slightly crushed sheet of paper out of her blouse and flattened it out on the table. Wassilij now lay on his back; the rusty nail stuck out of the wall straight above his head. He squinted over to the paper, which lay spread next to the Primus stove. Then he turned his head away quickly. "And he said: I tell thee, Peter, the cock shall not crow this day before that thou shalt thrice deny that thou knowest me. ..." The water in the kettle began to hum. Old Wassilij put on a cunning expression: "Must also those sign who were in the Civil War?" The daughter stood bent over the kettle, in her flowered head-kerchief. "Nobody has to," she said with the same peculiar glance as before. "In the factory they know, of course, that he lived in this house. The cell secretary asked me after the meeting whether you were friends until the end, and whether you had spoken much together." Old Wassilij sat up on the mattress with a jump. The effort made him cough, and the veins swelled on his thin, scrofulous neck. The daughter put two glasses on the edge of the table and scattered some tea-leaf dust into each out of a paper bag. "What are you mumbling again?" she asked. "Give me that damned paper," said old Wassilij. The daughter passed it to him. "Shall I read it to you, so that you know exactly what is in it?" "No," said the old man, writing his name on it. "I don't want to know. Now give me some tea." The daughter passed him the glass. Wassilij's lips were moving; he mumbled to himself while drinking the pale yellow liquid in small sips. After they had drunk their tea, the daughter went on reading from the newspaper. The trial of the accused Rubashov and Kieffer was nearing its end. The debate on the charge of the planned assassination of the leader of the Party had released storms of indignation amongst the audience; shouts of "Shoot the mad dogs!" were heard repeatedly. To the Public Prosecutor's concluding question, concerning the motive of his actions, the accused Rubashov, who seemed to have broken down, answered in a tired, dragging voice: "I can only say that we, the opposition, having once made it our criminal aim to remove the Government of the Fatherland of the Revolution, used methods which seemed proper to our purpose, and which were just as low and vile as that purpose." Vera Wassiljovna pushed back her chair. "That is disgusting," she said "It makes you sick the way he crawls on his belly." She put aside the newspaper and began noisily to clear away Primus and glasses. Wassilij watched her. The hot tea had given him courage. He sat up in bed. "Don't you imagine that you understand," he said "God knows what was in his mind when he said that. The Party has taught you all to be cunning, and whoever becomes too cunning loses all decency. It's no good shrugging your shoulders," he went on angrily. "It's come to this in the world now that cleverness and decency are at loggerheads, and whoever sides with one must do without the other. It's not good for a man to work things out too much. That's why it is