Chapter 19 Chapter Eighteen

"Tried to sleep, couldn't sleep, just felt cold, and now it's dawn" (Cincinnatus wrote quickly, blurred, incomplete, like a running man leaving an incomplete footprint) , "Now the sky is white and I am so cold that I feel that the abstract concept of 'cold' has found a concrete expression in my body, and they may come and take me away at any time. I am ashamed of being timid, but I am terrified--the fear never ceases, and runs through me with an ominous roar, like a torrent, and my flesh trembles like a bridge over a waterfall, and in that roar, You have to speak very loudly so you can hear yourself. I am ashamed that my soul is too weak - it shouldn't be, ne dolzhno bilo bi bit' - such verbs grow only on the bark of the Russian language Fungus clusters - oh, I'm so ashamed, my attention is completely occupied, my mind is clogged with this mess of details, they rush, lips are wet, want to say goodbye, all kinds of memories are rushing To say farewell: I, a child, with a book in my hand, sit in the hot sun on the bank of a noisy brook. The brook is shimmering, reflected in very old, very old lines—' Love in the twilight years'—but I know I ought not to yield—'to become more tender and superstitious'—to yield neither to memory, nor to fear, nor to the swoons of intense emotion:'...more superstitious ’—how I wished before that everything was in order and everything was simple, because I knew that the fear of death was nothing but a harmless shock—maybe even good for the soul—the choking of a newborn baby Or angry refusal to give up toys - once upon a time there were people who lived in caves, jingle dripping and stalactites, they were saints, they took pleasure in death, they - most of them were terribly wrong, It's true—but they hold it in their own way—though I know all this, and one other major, most important thing that no one here knows—but, you see, puppets, How frightened I am, everything in me is shaking, rattling, rushing - now they may come and take me away, but I'm not ready, and I'm ashamed..."

Cincinnatus got up and started running, slamming his head against the wall—but the real Cincinnatus was still sitting at the table, looking at the wall, biting his pencil, and after a while his feet were Sliding back and forth under the table, he continued to write his words, at a slightly slower speed: "Keep these hastily written things—I don't know whom I'm asking, but do keep these hastily written things—I can assure you there's a law, look it up , you will understand!--Let them lie about for a while--how can it hurt you?--I beg you most sincerely--this is my last wish--how can you refuse? At least Theoretically, I should have the possibility of having a reader, otherwise, I should really tear it all up. Well, that's what I have to say. Now it's time to get ready."

He stopped writing again.It was already very bright in the cell, and Cincinnatus judged from the position of the light that the bell of half past five was about to strike soon.He waited until he heard the distant ringing of a bell before continuing, but now writing slowly and hesitatingly, as if all his strength had been devoted to the first violent words. "My words keep going in circles," Cincinnatus wrote. "Jealous of poets. It must be a wonderful feeling to write so fast on paper, fly off paper into nothingness, and see shadows running on paper. Before and after the execution, before and after all the falsifications, chaos and sadness .The blade is cold, the handle is smooth. And sandpaper. The pain of parting must be bloody and noisy, I guess. Once the thought is written down, it becomes less annoying, but some thoughts are like cancerous tumors: you squeeze It, you stimulate it, it gets worse than before. It's hard to imagine this morning, in another hour or two..."

But two hours passed, and more time passed.Rodion, as usual, had brought breakfast, cleaned the cell, sharpened the pencils, removed the latrine, and fed the spiders.Cincinnatus didn't ask him any questions, but after Rodion left, time passed slowly at its usual pace, and he realized that he had been deceived again. After confirming the state, everything is still as vague and puzzling as before. Just after three or four o'clock (he had dozed, half-awake, and had not counted the bells, and had only a rough impression of their total), the door opened suddenly and Marthe entered.Her cheeks were flushed, the hair combed loose on the back of her head, and the tight bodice of her black velvet dress kept rising and falling—as if something wasn't ironed enough, which made her look out of shape, and she kept trying to straighten the dress, exerting herself for a while Pulling it, wiggling the butt quickly for a while, it seems that there is something wrong and uncomfortable underneath.

"Here are cornflowers for you," she said, throwing a bouquet of blue flowers on the table, while deftly lifting her skirt up to her knees, and placing a plump, lovely leg in white stockings on the table. On the chair, pull the stocking up to where the garter makes its impression in the delicate quivering fat. "My God, it's been so hard to get a visitation! Of course I've got to make a little concession—that's all. Tell me, how are you, my poor little Cinsing?" "I must confess that I did not expect you to come," said Cincinnatus. "Find a place to sit."

"I tried to come yesterday, but I had no luck--today I said to myself, I must try to get in anyway. He held me up for an hour, your warden. Highly rated. Oh, I was in a hurry today, and I was worried that I would be too late. There were so many people gathered in Sirile Square this morning!" "Why did they cancel the original plan again?" asked Cincinnatus. "By the way, they say everyone is tired and not getting enough sleep. You know, the crowd just won't leave. You should be proud." Oblong, crystal-clear tears dripped down the contours of Marthe's cheeks and jaw—one even trickled down her neck, into the shallow hollow of her collarbone...but her eyes were still wide open , the short fingers are stretched out, there are some white spots on the nails, the thin lips are constantly moving, and the words are constantly speaking:

"Some people insist that it has been dragged on for a long time, but you can't find out who said it. You can't imagine that there are so many rumors, such confusion..." "Why are you crying?" Cincinnatus asked with a smile. "I can't tell myself--I just feel exhausted..." (whispering proudly): "I hate you people, I'm sick of it. Cincinnatus, Cincinnatus, look What trouble you've caused! . . . What people say about you—that's terrible! Oh, listen," she changed the rhythm of her speech suddenly, beaming, and smacking her lips in self-satisfaction. "One day—what day was it?—yes, the day before yesterday, a little old woman came to me, a lady doctor or something—a complete stranger, you hear me, wearing a very Ugly raincoat, stammering and stammering.' Of course,' she said, 'you know.' I said, 'No, so far I don't know anything.' She said: - 'Oh, I know who you are , but you don't know me'... I said..." (Ma Si imitated the appearance of the female speaker, using a fussy and ignorant tone, but slowed down the word "say" for a long time, because She's speaking her own words now, and she's putting on a cool face). "In a nutshell, she wanted to tell me she was your mother—though I don't think she's even the right age, but let's ignore that. She said she was terrified of being persecuted because, listen to me Said that they had questioned her and tortured her with various things. I said, "What does all this have to do with me? Why did you come to me?" She said, "Of course it does. I know you have a good heart. You will do your best.' I said: 'Why do you say I have a good heart?' She said: 'Oh, of course I know' - she asked if I could give her a piece of paper, a certificate, I use my hands and feet sign together, stating that she has never been in our house, has never seen you . voice) "She must be a weirdo, a lunatic, don't you think so? Anyway, of course I gave her nothing. Victor and the others said it could endanger me—because if I Knowing that you didn't know her, it was as if I knew your every move—and so she went, rather dejectedly."

"But she was my mother," Cincinnatus said. "Maybe, maybe. It's not very important after all. But tell me, why are you so listless and lifeless, Xin Xin? I thought you'd be very happy to see me, but you..." She looked at the bed, then at the door. "I don't know what the rules are here," she said in a low voice, "but if you need it badly, Sing Xin, come on, just do it quickly." "Oh, come on--what nonsense are you talking about," said Cincinnatus. "Well, whatever you want. I just want you to enjoy it, because this is the last time we see each other. Oh, by the way, do you know who I'm going to marry? Guess who—you'll never Can't guess. Do you remember the bad-ass old man? He lived next door to us, and he could smell the constant stench of his pipe through the fence, and he used to peek up when I climbed up the apple tree. Can you imagine? He's serious about it! Can you imagine me marrying an old scarecrow like that? Well, anyway, I think it's time for me to take a long, good rest—you should know, just Close my eyes, stretch my limbs, think about nothing, relax, absolutely alone of course, or with someone who really cares about me and is very understanding..."

Her stubby lashes glistened with tears again, and the tears streamed down every hollow of her apple-red cheeks. Cincinnatus dipped a tear in it and tasted it: it was neither salty nor sweet—just a drop of lukewarm water.Cincinnatus didn't do that. Suddenly the door creaked open an inch wide, and a red-haired finger beckoned to Marthe, who immediately went to the door. "What, what do you want, it's not up yet, isn't it, promise me an hour," she whispered quickly.The other party didn't know what to answer. "Absolutely not!" she said angrily. "You can tell him that. It's all right, I only do this kind of thing with the warden—"

Her words were interrupted, she listened carefully to the other party's constant muttering, she lowered her head, frowned, and rubbed the toes of her slippers on the floor. "Well then," she blurted out, turning to her husband with innocent ease, "I'll be back in five minutes, Xin Xin." (It was only when she was away that he remembered that not only had he not started the urgent consultation with her, but he could not even express those important things clearly... At the same time, his heart ached, and the same old memory was in a Sobbing in the corner, I should have gotten rid of all this pain.)

She came back a full forty-five minutes later, still cursing.She put one foot on the chair, snapped her garter, angrily rearranged the pleats of her skirt from the waist down, and sat down at the table in exactly the same posture as before. "It's all rubbish," she said dismissively, and began to finger the blue flowers on the table. "Why, why don't you say something to me, my little Cincinn, my little cock? . . . I picked these flowers myself, you know, and I don't like poppies, but they're lovely. If If you can't do it, you shouldn't try," she added unexpectedly in a different tone, her eyes narrowing. "No, Xin Xin, what I just said was not meant for you." (sighs) "Come on, say something to me and comfort me." "My letter—have you..." Cincinnatus began, then cleared his throat. "Have you read my letter carefully?" "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Marthe cried, putting his hands to his temples, "we can talk about anything but that letter!" "No, let's just talk about that letter," Cincinnatus said. She jumped up, straightened her dress nervously, and began to speak incoherently, with a slight lisp, as she always did when she was angry. "That letter was a terrible thing. It was utter nonsense. I couldn't read it anyway. People might think you wrote it sitting here alone, drinking. I wasn't going to mention that letter, but Since you... you look, everyone who was involved in delivering that letter saw it—they copied it and thought, 'Oh ho! If he could write her a letter like that, she must be his accomplice.' Don't you understand that I don't want to know anything about you, you have no right to write me such a letter and drag me into your crime—" "There is nothing criminal in the letter I wrote to you," said Cincinnatus. "That's your opinion, but everyone is shocked by your letter, very shocked! I, I may be stupid, I don't know anything about the law, but my gut tells me that every word you write It's unbelievable, unspeakable... Oh, Cincinnatus, what a mess you've got me in--and the children--think of the children...Listen--listen to me for a minute —" She spoke with such agitation that her words were incomprehensible, "return the whole confession, turn it all over. Tell them you're innocent, you're just talking nonsense, tell them, repent, and that's it— Even if it doesn't save your head, you have to think about me. They're already accusing me of saying, 'That's her, that widow, that's her!'" "Wait a minute, Marthe, I don't understand. Confession of what?" "That's right! Include me in it, ask me to lead... If I know all the answers, alas, I'm your accomplice... accomplice! It's simple and clear. No, that's enough , that's enough. I'm terrified of all this... tell me one last time, surely you don't want to repent, for me, for all of us?" "Goodbye, Marthe," said Cincinnatus. She sat down, deep in thought, propping herself up on her right elbow, and with her left hand she drew her own world on the table. "How horrible, how stupid," she said, with a deep sigh.She frowned and drew a river with her nails. "I originally thought that our meeting today was a different situation. I was ready to give everything to you. I have suffered so much to get such a reward! Forget it, things are already like this." (River sink into the sea—off the edge of the table.) "I left with a heavy heart, you know. Yes, but how am I going to get out?" She remembered suddenly, naively, even Happy. "They're not going to come and take me out that quickly, I've convinced them to give me a lot of time." "Don't worry," said Cincinnatus, "every word we say . . . they're going to open the door." He was right. "Good-bye, good-bye," murmured Marthe. "Wait, hold on, let me say good-bye to my husband. Good-bye. If you need shirts or anything... oh yes, the boys want me to give you a kiss. Seems like Is there anything else... oh, I almost forgot--Papa took the glass I gave you--he said you promised him--" "Come on, come on, little lady," Rodion interrupted, skillfully kneeling her and walking towards the door.