Doctor Zhivago - Boris Pasternak [186]
However, to look on and remain inactive amidst the fight to the death that was seething around him was inconceivable and beyond human strength. And it was not a matter of loyalty to the camp to which his captivity chained him, nor of his own self-defense, but of following the order of what was happening, of submitting to the laws of what was being played out before and around him. It was against the rules to remain indifferent to it. He had to do what the others were doing. A battle was going on. He and his comrades were being shot at. It was necessary to shoot back.
And when the telephonist next to him in the line jerked convulsively and then stretched out and lay still, Yuri Andreevich crawled over to him, removed his pouch, took his rifle, and, returning to his place, began firing it shot after shot.
But pity would not allow him to aim at the young men, whom he admired and with whom he sympathized. And to fire into the air like a fool was much too stupid and idle an occupation, contradictory to his intentions. And so, choosing moments when none of the attackers stood between him and his target, he began shooting at the charred tree. Here he had his own method.
Taking aim and gradually adjusting the precision of his sights, imperceptibly increasing the pressure on the trigger, but not all the way, as if not counting on ever firing, until the hammer fell and the shot followed of itself, as if beyond expectation, the doctor began with an accustomed accuracy to knock off the dry lower branches and scatter them around the dead tree.
But, oh horror! Careful as the doctor was not to hit anybody, now one, now another of the attackers got between him and the tree at the decisive moment and crossed his line of sight just as the gun went off. Two he hit and wounded, but the third unfortunate, who fell not far from the tree, paid for it with his life.
Finally the White commanders, convinced of the uselessness of the attempt, gave the order to retreat.
The partisans were few. Their main forces were partly on the march, partly shifted elsewhere, starting action against a much larger enemy force. The detachment did not pursue the retreating men, so as not to betray their small numbers.
The medic Angelyar brought two orderlies to the edge of the forest with a stretcher. The doctor ordered them to take care of the wounded, and went himself to the telephonist, who lay without moving. He vaguely hoped that the man might still be breathing and that he might be brought back to life. But the telephonist was dead. To make finally sure of it, Yuri Andreevich unbuttoned the shirt on his chest and began listening to his heart. It was not beating.
The dead man had an amulet on a string around his neck. Yuri Andreevich removed it. In it there turned out to be a piece of paper, decayed and worn at the edges, sewn into a scrap of cloth. The doctor unfolded its half-detached and disintegrating parts.
The paper contained excerpts from the ninety-first psalm, with those changes and errors that people introduce into prayers, gradually moving further from the original as they recopy it. The fragments of the Church Slavonic text on the paper were rewritten in Russian.3
In the psalm it is said: “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High.” In the paper this became the title of a spell: “Dwellers in Secret.” The verse of the psalm “Thou shalt not be afraid … of the arrow that flieth by day” was misinterpreted as words of encouragement: “Have no fear of the arrow flying by thee.” “Because he hath known my name,” says the psalm. And the paper: “Because he half knows my name.” “I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him” in the paper became: “It will