Chapter 8 Part Two 14-15

14 Grigory Gvozdev was discharged from the hospital in mid-June. A day or two before he was discharged from the hospital, he had a very positive conversation with Alexei.The two of them were secretly happy, because they were companions with the same illness and had the same complicated personal affairs.In this case, it usually goes like this: two people pour out their worries and confusions to each other without reservation, because their self-esteem does not allow them to confide their doubts to anyone else.They also looked at pictures of their girlfriends. The fond photo of Alexei is quite worn and faded.He had taken this picture of Olya on a clear and crisp March day, running barefoot in a field of warm, blooming grass on the banks of the Volga.She was as thin as a little girl, wearing a floral dress, sitting cross-legged and barefoot on the ground, her knees were covered with bouquets of flowers.Among the daisies blooming in the meadow, she herself was bright, white, and pure, like a daisy in the open.While she was picking flowers, she was meditating sideways, her eyes were wide open, brimming with joy, as if seeing the beauty of this world for the first time.

After reading the photos, the tanker said that such a girl would not be thrown into trouble.To hell with her if she deserts you--that's to say you can't be judged by appearances, as it should be, and it's better that way; that's to say she's a bitch, why entrust her life to a bitch! Alexei also liked Anyuta's looks.Without realizing it, he repeated to him what he had just heard from Gvozdev.This simple conversation, of course, did not resolve any of their personal affairs, but they were much relieved, as if a long-delayed serious boil had burst. They agreed that when Gvozdev was discharged from the hospital, he would pass by the window of the ward with Anyuta (who had promised to come and meet him on the phone), and Alexei immediately wrote to the tanker about her impressions.Gvozdev, on his part, promised to write to the friend and tell him how Anzuta had greeted him, how he had treated his deformed face, and how their love affair had developed.Then Milesyev thought: If all is well with Grisha, he will write to Olya at once and tell Olya everything about himself, and make her swear to secrecy, so that his mother, who is getting weaker and can hardly get out of bed, will be saved. No more sadness.

So they were equally excited, looking forward to the discharge of the tanker.They were so excited that they stayed up all night, and at night they slipped quietly into the corridor: Gvozdev once again stood in front of the mirror massaging his scar, and Milesyev, wrapping a rag around the end of his cane to keep quiet, Add one more training walk. At ten o'clock Kravtia Mikhailovna, laughing mischievously, informed Gvozdev that someone was coming for him.It was as if a gust of wind had lifted him from the bed, his face was flushed red, and the scars on his face became more and more clear, and he began to pack his things in a hurry.

"She's a lovely girl, so serious." The nurse said with a smile, watching him pack things carelessly.Gvozdev blushed. "Really? Do you like her? No, is it really good?" He ran out so excited that he even forgot to say goodbye. "Such a child!" muttered Struchkov. "This kind of master is easy to be fooled." Recently this normally carefree man has become a little unfriendly.He became taciturn and often lost his temper for no reason.Now he can sit up on the bed, look out of the window all day, put his fist on his cheek, and don't answer when people ask him.

The whole ward—the major, Melesyev, who had grown somber, and the two new patients leaned out of the window, waiting for their companions to appear in the street.The weather is warm, and the soft and fluffy clouds inlaid with golden strips are crawling fast and changing in the sky.At this time, a light gray scattered dark cloud hurriedly floated over the river, and large and sparse raindrops drifted along the way, shining brightly in the sun.The granite on the embankment was also shiny by the rain, as if it had been polished; the black puddles on the asphalt road looked like marble spots, and hot steam seemed to emanate from them. Come on, it makes people want to lean out of the window and let the warm and humid rain fall on their heads.

"Here we come," Milesyev said softly. The heavy oak door beside the gate opened slowly.Two people came out of the door: one was a plump girl with no hat on, her hair combed back, wearing a white blouse and black skirt; the other was a young soldier, Alexey did not recognize the tank Come on.The soldiers carry a suitcase in one hand and a coat in the other. They walk with ease, firmness and elasticity, which makes people look very comfortable.Perhaps he wanted to test his physical strength, perhaps he was delighted by the freedom of movement, and instead of running down the gate steps, he walked down deftly and slipperily, holding his companion on the arm.They walked along the embankment towards the window of the ward, drenched in sparse and large golden raindrops.

Alexei looked at them with joy in his heart: things were going well, as evidenced by her calm, simple, lovely face.Such a girl will not run away.Yes, this kind of person will not abandon others when they are most unfortunate. They stopped at a place parallel to Fu and looked up.The young couple stood beside the rain-washed granite railing on the embankment, with the background of slanting raindrops drifting leisurely.At this moment Alexei noticed a dazed, nervous expression on the tanker's face.His Anyuta was indeed as lovely as in the picture, somewhat embarrassed and shy for some reason.Her hand was loosely on that of the tanker's, in a gesture of anxiety and hesitation, as if she would pull it away and run away.

The young couple waved their hands and forced a smile, then walked along the embankment, disappearing at the bend.Everyone in the ward returned to their beds silently. "There is something wrong with Gvozdev," the major noticed.He heard Kravtia Mikhailovna's heels in the corridor, shuddered suddenly, and turned abruptly to the window. Alexei was restless for the rest of the day.He didn't even practice walking at night, and was the first one to go to bed, but when the whole ward was already asleep, the springs of his mattress were still creaking. As soon as the nurse came in the next morning, he asked if there was any letter from him.no letter.He washed his face listlessly, and ate dinner listlessly, but practiced walking more than usual.Because he wanted to punish himself for yesterday's mistake, he completed the fifteen times quota that he did not complete yesterday.This unexpected achievement made him forget all his worries.He demonstrated the ability to walk freely on crutches with little pain.If you multiply the fifty meters of the corridor by forty-five times, then it is two thousand two hundred and fifty meters, or two and a quarter kilometers.That's the distance from the officer's restaurant to the airport.He meditated on the memorable road, past the ruined old church in the village, past the burnt brick school with its black, empty windows like eyes watching the passage sadly, through a The grove—that was the tanker truck concealed by fir branches, passed the command post bunker, past the boarded-up log cabin, where the Meteorological Sergeant was religiously writing on maps and charts Work.There are many roads, indeed many!

Milesiev decided to increase the daily training volume to 46 times, two to three times in the morning and evening, and tried to walk without crutches at the beginning of the next day.This immediately freed him from his gloomy thoughts, and he mustered up his courage and gathered his energy to do practical things.He walked his way that evening with such enthusiasm and enthusiasm that he did not notice that he had made thirty trips at once.Just at this time a letter from a clothes woman interrupted his training.He picked up a small envelope signed "From Captain Milesyev." There is also a stroke under "Dear Enlightenment".Alexey didn't like this.The place of address in the letter also wrote: "The recipient's boudoir", and it has also been crossed out.

Leaning on the windowsill, Alexei opened the envelope.This detailed letter, written by Gvozdev at night at the railway station, grew darker as Alexei read on.Gvozdev said that Anyuta was exactly what they had imagined, and that perhaps there was no more beautiful girl in Moscow.He said she had greeted him as a family member.This way he likes her even more. "... But what I was talking to you about, it happened. She was a good girl. She didn't say anything to me, she didn't even show it. Everything was fine, but I wasn't blind, and I found that I That damned face scares her. Everything seems to be fine, but when I turn around suddenly, I see that she is looking at me with a look of shyness, fear, or pity... She takes me to school. If I don’t go It's all right there. The schoolgirls surround me and look at me...you can imagine, they all know us, Anyuta told them all about us...I found her looking at me with guilt Everyone, as if to say, I'm sorry, I brought a terrible face. She took care of me, talking and talking softly, as if afraid of being silent. Then we went to her house. She lived alone There, the parents were all evacuated, and it was a respectable family. She made me drink tea, but she kept looking at my reflection on the teapot and sighing. Anyway, I felt so damned, it couldn't be like this. I just Said directly to her like this: "I can see that my appearance makes you difficult, it is true, I understand, and I am not angry." She cried. I said: "Don't cry, you are a good girl, Everyone will fall in love with you. Why do you want to ruin your life.' Then I said to her: 'Now you see what a beauty I am, think about it, I'm going to the front I will leave the address to you. If you don’t change your mind, write to me.’ I also said to her: ‘Don’t force yourself, you still have me now, maybe in the future: because of the war.’ She naturally cried and said: 'What are you talking about, no, never.' Then there was the nasty air-raid siren, and she was out, and I slipped away--straight to the officers' corps. Dispatched as soon as I got there. All is well, I'm going, I've got the pass in my pocket. Alyosha, I just love her more, and I don't know how I'll live without her."

Alexei read the letters from his friends, and he felt that he saw his future.Presumably he will also face such an ending.Olya will not abandon him, will not be heartless, never!She also has the noble spirit of sacrifice, she will suppress the pain in her heart, swallow her tears, smile, and treat him tenderly. "No, no, don't do that, don't do that!" Alexey exclaimed. He limped quickly into the ward, sat down at the table, and wrote Olya a short, cold, official letter.He didn't intend to tell the truth, because his mother was ill, why let her suffer another painful blow!He wrote to Olya that he had thought a lot about their relationship, and he thought she might be waiting hard.But how long will the war last?Years have passed, and so has youth.However, war is a thing that can make expectations come to naught.Once he was killed, she would be a widow even though she had never been a wife, or worse: if he was wounded and maimed, she would have to marry a maimed one.Why has to be this way?In order for her not to waste her time, she should forget him as soon as possible.She doesn't need to write back to him, he won't be angry.Although it is painful to do this, he can understand.This will be better. The letter was so hot that he sealed the envelope without rereading it, and limped quickly to the blue mailbox that hung behind the gleaming boiler of boiling water in the hallway. Back in the ward, he sat down at the table again.To whom can I tell my troubles?Mother can't do it.What about Gvozdev?Of course he understood, but where was he?Where could he be found on such a clueless road ahead?To the regiment?But the lucky ones who helped in the war didn't have time to worry about him!What about "Meteorology Sergeant"?Yes, just tell her!So he wrote the letter, and the letter was written very easily, just like crying easily on the shoulder of a friend.Suddenly he stopped writing and meditated for a while, then coldly crumpled up the letter and tore it up. "Hesitating to speak is the most terrible pain," Struchkov sneeredly quoted. He was sitting on the bed with Gvozdev's letter in his hand.He took the letter from Alexei's bedside table without fuss and read it. "What's the matter with everyone today? Gvozdev, oh, what a fool! That girl frowned, and he's in such pain! He's also analyzing other people's psychology, I think he's another Brother Karamazov... I think Are you angry if you believe me? What secrets do we have on the front line!" ① In Dostoevsky's novel of the same name, one of the protagonists, Ivan, is good at psychoanalysis. Alexey was not angry, he wondered if he should wait for the postman tomorrow and get the letter back from him? That night Alexei slept very restlessly.He dreamed of a snow-covered airport and a strange-looking "La-5" plane.The plane has no landing gear, only bird claws.The mechanic Yura seemed to crawl into the cabin, and as he crawled, he said that Alexei "had flown his flight" and that it was his turn to fly.He also dreamed that Papa Mikhail, in a white shirt and wet trousers, seemed to be slapping Alexei lying on the straw taking a steam bath with a broom.He couldn't help laughing: You should take a bath before marriage.Then, just before dawn, he dreamed of Olya again.She sat in an upturned boat and dropped her dark, healthy feet into the water.She is light, delicate and radiant.She covered the sun with her hands and called him over with a smile.And he swam toward her, but the rushing, turbulent current dragged him back from the bank, away from the girl.He paddled with his hands and pedaled vigorously, exercising every muscle, and swam closer and closer to her. He could already see the wind stirring up strands of her hair, droplets of water splashing onto her dark skin. on both feet... When the dream reaches this point he wakes up, full of joy and refreshed.After waking he lay for a long time with his eyes closed, trying to relive the pleasant dream.But this kind of thing can only be done in childhood.The image of the slender, dark girl in the dream seemed to illuminate everything.Don't worry too much, don't be decadent, don't be disappointed by Dostoevsky's psychoanalysis that the major said, but swim towards Olya, ford the rapids, swim forward, do whatever you can Go all out and swim to your destination.What about that letter?He thought about waiting for the postman at the mailbox, but then he waved: Let it go.True love is not afraid of such letters.Now when he was convinced that love was real, that no matter how happy or sad, healthy or sick he was, people would wait for him, he felt a great deal of refreshment. In the morning he tried to walk without crutches.He got out of bed carefully, stood up, stood with his legs apart for a while, and stretched out his hands independently to maintain his balance.Then, leaning on the wall with both hands, he took the first step.The leather of the prosthetic creaked and his body lurched to one side, but he kept his balance on his hands.He took a second step, but still kept his hands on the wall.He never expected that walking would be so difficult.As a child he learned to walk on stilts.At that time, he stood on the footboard, with his back against the wall—one step, two steps, three steps, and he would fall to the side when he couldn't support it, so he jumped off, and fell on the stilts on the gray street on the outskirts of the city. in the weeds.However, it is easier to walk on stilts. If you can't, you can jump off, but you can't jump off prosthetic limbs.So when he took the third step, his body tilted, his legs staggered, and he fell to the ground with a heavy plop. He chose to train to walk during treatment, when everyone in the ward went to the treatment room.He didn't want anyone's help, he climbed to the wall, stood up slowly against the wall, touched his sore waist, looked at the red and purple lumps on his elbows, gritted his teeth, and walked away from the wall to move forward again took a step.Now he felt he had the secret.The primary difference between his fitted foot and his normal foot was the lack of elasticity.He didn't understand their characteristics, and he didn't develop the reaction speed adapted to them: to change the position of the legs when walking, shift the center of gravity from the heel to the sole of the foot, take a step, and then shift the center of gravity of the body to the other foot. on the heel of the foot.Finally, the soles of the feet should not stand side by side, but the toes should be separated at an angle, so that the movement can be very stable. All this is learned in childhood for a person.At that time, under the supervision of his mother, he took the first shaky steps with those weak short legs.These coordination gradually became accustomed to nature.And when a person wears a prosthetic, then this natural relationship of the organism is altered, and the coordination acquired in childhood no longer helps but hinders movement.The old one has to be overcome from time to time while the new one is being developed, and many who have lost their feet, lack of willpower, never grow old enough to relearn the art of walking that we learn so easily as children. Milesyev is a good material, he can achieve his goals.He learned the lesson time and time again, moving away from the wall again, moving the false toe to the side, first resting his weight on the heel, then on the toe.The prosthesis creaked with anger.At this moment, when the weight was on the tiptoe, Alexey suddenly raised his second foot, stepped forward, and the heel fell to the floor with a heavy bang.At this time, balance with your hands again, stand in the middle of the ward, and dare not take another step.He was standing, wobbling, always off balance, and he felt cold sweat dripping from the bridge of his nose. Just then Vasily Vasilyevich saw him.He stood by the door for a while, observed Milesyev, and then stepped forward and took his arm: "Excellent, reptile! Why are you alone, and the soil guard? Where's the sanitation officer? That's tough... Look, it's all right, everything is difficult at the beginning, and now you have done the most difficult thing." Vasily Vasilyevich had recently become the head of the highest medical institution, and his busy affairs took up a lot of time, so he had to say goodbye to the hospital.But the old man also serves as the dean of the hospital. Although the affairs of the hospital have been taken care of by others, he comes to the ward for rounds and consultations every day whenever he has time.It's just that after his son's death, he abandoned Z's original witty muttering, no longer yelling at others, and no longer using rough language. "Hey, Milesyev, let's study together." He said to his entourage again: "Go on your own, go, this is not a circus, there is nothing to see. Well, I won't go, Go through the house yourself!" He said to Alexei again, "well, my dear, let's go - . . . grab me, grab me, why be ashamed! Ah, I'm a general, and I should be obeyed. Well, two, yes. Now use the right foot, which is great, and use the left foot, which is great!" The illustrious doctor rubbed his hands together happily, as if teaching a man to walk was a medical experiment of immense importance.But that's in his nature - he's obsessed with anything he does, he puts all his energy and enthusiasm into it.He made Milesiev walk up and down the ward, and when Milesyev, exhausted, slumped into a chair, he took a chair and sat next to him. "Hey, so flying, how do we fly? I mean flying. My God, what is this called war nowadays, the man who lost his hand is commanding the company to charge into battle, and the dying wounded are still firing machine guns, using their chests to kill Block the enemy's gun holes... Only the dead don't fight." The old man's face paled, and he sighed, "The dead also fight, and they fight with their own honor. Well, hey, let's start, young man." When Milesyev finished his second walk along the ward and was resting, the professor suddenly pointed to Gvozdev's bed and asked: "How is the tanker? Healed and discharged?" Milesyev replied that he was cured and had gone to the front, but the face was a pain, especially the lower half, and the burns were very ugly and irreparable. "Has he written? He's already disappointed. The girl doesn't love him? Advise him to grow a beard. I'm telling the truth. Others will think he's busy, and this can definitely win the girl's favor!" A panting nurse ran to the door and said that the People's Committee had called.Vasily Vasilyevich rose with difficulty from his chair.To see him now propping his knees so hard on his fat, purple-plotted, peeling hands, straightening his waist so hard, said a lot about how much he had aged in recent weeks.Having reached the door, he turned and cried cheerfully: "You must write to this friend of yours, what is his name, and say that I have prescribed him a beard-growing remedy. It is an experimental remedy! It will do well with the ladies! " In the evening an old clerk at the hospital brought Milesyev a cane, an elegant, antique ebony cane with a comfortable ivory handle and a set of curlicues carved on it. "From the professor, from Vasily Vasilyevich. He gave you his personal things as a present. He told you to walk in it." This summer night in the hospital was lonely and boring, but Ward No. 42 attracted people to visit.Neighbors, even people upstairs came to watch the professor's giveaway.A good cane indeed. 15 Grigory Gvozdev was discharged from the hospital in mid-June. A day or two before he was discharged from the hospital, he had a very positive conversation with Alexei.The two of them were secretly happy, because they were companions with the same illness and had the same complicated personal affairs.In this case, it usually goes like this: two people pour out their worries and confusions to each other without reservation, because their self-esteem does not allow them to confide their doubts to anyone else.They also looked at pictures of their girlfriends. The fond photo of Alexei is quite worn and faded.He had taken this picture of Olya on a clear and crisp March day, running barefoot in a field of warm, blooming grass on the banks of the Volga.She was as thin as a little girl, wearing a floral dress, sitting cross-legged and barefoot on the ground, her knees were covered with bouquets of flowers.Among the daisies blooming in the meadow, she herself was bright, white, and pure, like a daisy in the open.While she was picking flowers, she was meditating sideways, her eyes were wide open, brimming with joy, as if seeing the beauty of this world for the first time. After reading the photos, the tanker said that such a girl would not be thrown into trouble.To hell with her if she deserts you--that's to say you can't be judged by appearances, as it should be, and it's better that way; that's to say she's a bitch, why entrust her life to a bitch! Alexei also liked Anyuta's looks.Without realizing it, he repeated to him what he had just heard from Gvozdev.This simple conversation, of course, did not resolve any of their personal affairs, but they were much relieved, as if a long-delayed serious boil had burst. They agreed that when Gvozdev was discharged from the hospital, he would pass by the window of the ward with Anyuta (who had promised to come and meet him on the phone), and Alexei immediately wrote to the tanker about her impressions.Gvozdev, on his part, promised to write to the friend and tell him how Anzuta had greeted him, how he had treated his deformed face, and how their love affair had developed.Then Milesyev thought: If all is well with Grisha, he will write to Olya at once and tell Olya everything about himself, and make her swear to secrecy, so that his mother, who is getting weaker and can hardly get out of bed, will be saved. No more sadness. So they were equally excited, looking forward to the discharge of the tanker.They were so excited that they stayed up all night, and at night they slipped quietly into the corridor: Gvozdev once again stood in front of the mirror massaging his scar, and Milesyev, wrapping a rag around the end of his cane to keep quiet, Add one more training walk. At ten o'clock Kravtia Mikhailovna, laughing mischievously, informed Gvozdev that someone was coming for him.It was as if a gust of wind had lifted him from the bed, his face was flushed red, and the scars on his face became more and more clear, and he began to pack his things in a hurry. "She's a lovely girl, so serious." The nurse said with a smile, watching him pack things carelessly.Gvozdev blushed. "Really? Do you like her? No, is it really good?" He ran out so excited that he even forgot to say goodbye. "Such a child!" muttered Struchkov. "This kind of master is easy to be fooled." Recently this normally carefree man has become a little unfriendly.He became taciturn and often lost his temper for no reason.Now he can sit up on the bed, look out of the window all day, put his fist on his cheek, and don't answer when people ask him. The whole ward—the major, Melesyev, who had grown somber, and the two new patients leaned out of the window, waiting for their companions to appear in the street.The weather is warm, and the soft and fluffy clouds inlaid with golden strips are crawling fast and changing in the sky.At this time, a light gray scattered dark cloud hurriedly floated over the river, and large and sparse raindrops drifted along the way, shining brightly in the sun.The granite on the embankment was also shiny by the rain, as if it had been polished; the black puddles on the asphalt road looked like marble spots, and hot steam seemed to emanate from them. Come on, it makes people want to lean out of the window and let the warm and humid rain fall on their heads. "Here we come," Milesyev said softly. The heavy oak door beside the gate opened slowly.Two people came out of the door: one was a plump girl with no hat on, her hair combed back, wearing a white blouse and black skirt; the other was a young soldier, Alexei did not recognize the tank Come on.The soldiers carry a suitcase in one hand and a coat in the other. They walk with ease, firmness and elasticity, which makes people look very comfortable.Perhaps he wanted to test his physical strength, perhaps he was delighted by the freedom of movement, and instead of running down the gate steps, he walked down deftly and slipperily, holding his companion on the arm.They walked along the embankment towards the window of the ward, drenched in sparse and large golden raindrops. Alexei looked at them with joy in his heart: things were going well, as evidenced by her calm, simple, lovely face.Such a girl will not run away.Yes, this kind of person will not abandon others when they are most unfortunate. They stopped at a place parallel to Fu and looked up.The young couple stood beside the rain-washed granite railing on the embankment, with the background of slanting raindrops drifting leisurely.At this moment Alexei noticed a dazed, nervous expression on the tanker's face.His Anyuta was indeed as lovely as in the picture, somewhat embarrassed and shy for some reason.Her hand was loosely on that of the tanker's, in a gesture of anxiety and hesitation, as if she would pull it away and run away. The young couple waved their hands and forced a smile, then walked along the embankment, disappearing at the bend.Everyone in the ward returned to their beds silently. "There is something wrong with Gvozdev," the major noticed.He heard Kravtia Mikhailovna's heels in the corridor, shuddered suddenly, and turned abruptly to the window. Alexei was restless for the rest of the day.He didn't even practice walking at night, and was the first one to go to bed, but when the whole ward was already asleep, the springs of his mattress were still creaking. As soon as the nurse came in the next morning, he asked if there was any letter from him.no letter.He washed his face listlessly, and ate dinner listlessly, but practiced walking more than usual.Because he wanted to punish himself for yesterday's mistake, he completed the fifteen times quota that he did not complete yesterday.This unexpected achievement made him forget all his worries.He demonstrated the ability to walk freely on crutches with little pain.If you multiply the fifty meters of the corridor by forty-five times, then it is two thousand two hundred and fifty meters, or two and a quarter kilometers.That's the distance from the officer's restaurant to the airport.He meditated on the memorable road, past the ruined old church in the village, past the burnt brick school with its black, empty windows like eyes watching the passage sadly, through a The grove—that was the tanker truck concealed by fir branches, passed the command post bunker, past the boarded-up log cabin, where the Meteorological Sergeant was religiously writing on maps and charts Work.There are many roads, indeed many! Milesiev decided to increase the daily training volume to 46 times, two to three times in the morning and evening, and tried to walk without crutches at the beginning of the next day.This immediately freed him from his gloomy thoughts, and he mustered up his courage and gathered his energy to do practical things.He walked his way that evening with such enthusiasm and enthusiasm that he did not notice that he had made thirty trips at once.Just at this time a letter from a clothes woman interrupted his training.He picked up a small envelope signed "From Captain Milesyev." There is also a stroke under "Dear Enlightenment".Alexey didn't like this.The place of address in the letter also wrote: "The recipient's boudoir", and it has also been crossed out. Leaning on the windowsill, Alexei opened the envelope.This detailed letter, written by Gvozdev at night at the railway station, grew darker as Alexei read on.Gvozdev said that Anyuta was exactly what they had imagined, and that perhaps there was no more beautiful girl in Moscow.He said she had greeted him as a family member.This way he likes her even more. "... But what I was talking to you about, it happened. She was a good girl. She didn't say anything to me, she didn't even show it. Everything was fine, but I wasn't blind, and I found that I That damned face scares her. Everything seems to be fine, but when I turn around suddenly, I see that she is looking at me with a look of shyness, fear, or pity... She takes me to school. If I don’t go It's all right there. The schoolgirls surround me and look at me...you can imagine, they all know us, Anyuta told them all about us...I found her looking at me with guilt Everyone, as if to say, I'm sorry, I brought a terrible face. She took care of me, talking and talking softly, as if afraid of being silent. Then we went to her house. She lived alone There, the parents were all evacuated, and it was a respectable family. She made me drink tea, but she kept looking at my reflection on the teapot and sighing. Anyway, I felt so damned, it couldn't be like this. I just Said directly to her like this: "I can see that my appearance makes you difficult, it is true, I understand, and I am not angry." She cried. I said: "Don't cry, you are a good girl, Everyone will fall in love with you. Why do you want to ruin your life.' Then I said to her: 'Now you see what a beauty I am, think about it, I'm going to the front I will leave the address to you. If you don’t change your mind, write to me.’ I also said to her: ‘Don’t force yourself, you still have me now, maybe in the future: because of the war.’ She naturally cried and said: 'What are you talking about, no, never.' Then there was the nasty air-raid siren, and she was out, and I slipped away--straight to the officers' corps. Dispatched as soon as I got there. All is well, I'm going, I've got the pass in my pocket. Alyosha, I just love her more, and I don't know how I'll live without her." Alexei read the letters from his friends, and he felt that he saw his future.Presumably he will also face such an ending.Olya will not abandon him, will not be heartless, never!She also has the noble spirit of sacrifice, she will suppress the pain in her heart, swallow her tears, smile, and treat him tenderly. "No, no, don't do that, don't do that!" Alexey exclaimed. 他急速地一瘸一拐地进了病房，坐在桌旁，一口气给奥丽雅写了一封简短的、冰冷的、公文式的信件。他不打算告诉实情，因为母亲病了，何必让她经受另一种痛苦的打击！他写信告诉奥丽雅说，他对他们的关系琢磨了许多，他想她或许等得很苦。可是战争还得打多久？岁月流逝了，青春也流逝了。然而战争这玩艺儿却能让期待化为乌有。一旦他被打死，那她尽管连妻子也未做过，也就成了寡妇，或者比这更糟糕的是：万一他受伤致残，那她就不得不嫁给一个残废。Why has to be this way?为了让她不虚度年华，她应该尽快忘记他。她可以不给他回信，他不会生气的。虽然做到这点很痛苦，但是他能理解。这样会更好些。 信炙手可热，他不愿再读一遍就封进了信封，急速地一瘸一瘸走到蓝色邮箱面前——邮箱就悬挂在走廊里闪闪发光的，盛有开水的煮水器后面。 回到病房，他重新坐在桌旁。能向谁诉说自己的苦恼？母亲是不行的。葛沃兹捷夫呢？他当然能理解，可是他在哪儿呢？在那么无头无绪的前方道路上哪儿能找到他呢？向团里？可是那帮忙于战争的幸运儿才没工夫管他呢！向“气象学中士”呢？对，就向她诉说！于是他就写信，信写得很轻松，就像伏在朋友的肩膀上轻松地哭一场一样。忽然他又停下笔来默想了一会，冷冷地将信揉作一团，撕掉了。 “欲言又止是最可怕的痛苦。”斯特鲁契柯夫讥笑地援引道。 他坐在床上，手里拿着葛沃兹捷夫的信。他不拘小节地从阿列克谢的床头柜上拿到了这封信，并且念过了。 “今天大家都怎么啦？葛沃兹捷夫，唉，是个傻瓜呀！那姑娘皱皱眉，他就痛苦成那样！还分析别人心理呐，我看他又是一个卡拉马佐夫兄弟①呐……我看了信你生气吗？我们这号在前线打仗的人还有什么秘密可言！” ①陀思妥耶夫斯基同名小说，其中一主人公伊凡擅长心理分析。 阿列克谢并未生气，他思忖着是否应该明天去等邮递员，从他那里把信取回来？ 这一夜阿列克谢睡得很不踏实。他梦见冰雪覆盖的飞机场和一架奇形怪状的“La—5”型飞机。飞机没有起落架，只有鸟爪。机械师尤拉仿佛往舱里爬去，边爬边说阿列克谢“已经飞完自己的航程”，现在该轮到他飞行了。他还梦见了米哈依拉老爹身穿白衬衫和湿裤子，像是用浴帚拍打躺在麦秸上洗蒸气浴的阿列克谢。他还不住地笑道：婚前是该洗个澡的。后来，天将破晓时，他又梦见了奥丽雅。她坐在一只翻了个的小船上，把她那双黝黑而健康的脚垂落到水里。她轻盈、清秀、容光焕发。她用手遮住阳光，笑吟吟地唤他过来。而他呢就向她游去，可是湍急的汹涌的水流往后拽他离开河岸，离开姑娘。他奋力地用手划呀，用脚蹬啊，运动着每一块肌肉，越来越近地游向她，已经可以看见风儿撩起了她的一缕缕头发、一滴滴水珠飞溅到黝黑黝黑的双脚上…… 梦做到这里他就醒了，满怀喜悦，精神爽朗。醒了之后他又闭目躺了好一阵子，竭力想重温那令人愉快的梦。不过这种事情只有童年才能做到。梦中那位纤弱而黝黑的姑娘的形象仿佛照亮了一切。不要多虑，不要颓废，不要对少校所说的陀思妥耶夫斯基的心理分析感到扫兴，而是要向奥丽雅迎面游去，涉过急流，向前游去，无论如何要竭尽全力，要游到目的地。那么那封信呢。他想到信箱旁等待邮递员，可是后来他挥了挥手：随它去吧。真正的爱情是不惧怕这样的信的。现在他一旦确信爱情是真实的，一旦确信他愉快也罢，悲伤也罢，健康也罢，生病也罢——无论他怎样，人家都会等待他的，就感到精神大大振作起来。 早晨他试着脱离拐杖行走。他小心翼翼下了床，站起来，分开两腿站立了一会，独立地伸开双手保持平衡。然后，他用双手扶着墙，迈出了第一步。假肢的皮革吱吱作响，身体向一边歪，但他用手保持了平衡。他又迈出了第二步，但是双手仍旧没有脱离墙壁。他怎么也未料到行走会如此艰难。孩提时他学过走高跷。那时他站在脚踏板上，背脊靠着墙壁——一步、两步、三步，支持不住了就会向旁边倒去，于是他就跳下来，高跷倒在城郊街道上的灰蒙蒙的杂草里。然而走高跷要容易些，不行可以跳下来呀，而从假肢上是跳不下来的。所以当他迈出第三步时，身子一歪，腿一个踉跄，就重重地扑通一声倒在地上。 他选择治疗期间训练行走，那时病房里的人都去了治疗室。他不要任何人的帮助，攀扶到墙边，靠着墙慢慢地站起来，摸摸跌疼的腰部，看看肘部已发红的紫块，咬紧牙关，离开墙壁重新向前迈了一步。现在他感到他掌握了秘诀。他那装上去的脚和正常的脚最首要的区别在于缺少弹性。他不了解它们的特性，又没有培养出适应于它们的反应速度：在行走时要改变腿的位置，将重心从脚后跟移到脚板上，迈一步，然后再将身体的重心移到另一只脚的后跟上。最后，脚掌不能并排站着，而是要脚尖分开呈一个角度，这样就能保证运动时非常平稳。 所有这一切对于一个人来说那是在孩提时就学到的。那时他在妈妈的监护下用那双无力的短短的小腿走出了最初的摇摇晃晃的步子。这些协调也渐渐习惯成自然了。而当一个人穿上假肢时，那么他机体的这种自然关系也就改变了，从孩提时获取的那种协调不再有所帮助，相反却阻碍了运动。在培养新的协调时，还得时时克服这种旧的协调，许多失去脚的人，由于没有坚强的意志，所以到老也不能重新学会我们在孩提时如此轻松就学会的行走艺术。 密列西耶夫是块好料，他能达到自己的目的。他吸取一次次的教训，重新脱离墙壁，把假脚尖移向一边，先把身体重心落在脚跟上，然后再移到脚尖上。假肢气得吱吱作响。这时候，当重心落到脚尖上以后，阿列克谢猛地抬起第二只脚，向前迈去，脚跟重重地轰隆一声落在地板上。这时，再用手平衡一下，站在病房中间，不敢再走下一步。他站着，晃晃悠悠，总是失衡，他感到冷汗从鼻梁上渗出来了。 恰恰在这时瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇看见了他。他在门旁站了一会儿，观察了一下密列西耶夫，就走上前挽住他的胳膊： “好极了，爬爬虫！怎么只有你一个人，护土呢？卫生员呢？真硬气……瞧，没什么吧，万事开头难，现在你已经做了最困难的事。” 最近瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇当上了最高一级医学机构的领导，事务繁忙，占去了大量的时间，同医院只好告别。但是老头儿兼任医院的院长，虽然医院里的事务已由他人负责，可每天他一有时间就来病房查房、会诊。只是儿子死后，他弃绝Z原先妙趣横生的嘟嘟哝哝，不再冲人嚷嚷，不再粗言粗语，熟悉他的人从这一点上发现他一下子衰老了。 “喂，密列西耶夫，我们一起来学习。”他又冲着随从们说：“你们自己去吧，去呀，这儿又不是马戏团，有什么好看的。嗯，我不去了，你们自己查完房吧！”他又对阿列克谢说，“好了，亲爱的，我们来吧，—……您抓住啊，抓住我啊，有什么好害羞的！您抓住啊，我是个将军，应该听从我的。好，二，对了。现在用右脚，太好了，用左脚，棒极了！” 这位赫赫有名的医生愉快地搓搓手，仿佛教人行走就是完成了一个无比重要的医学实验。不过这是他的天性——无论做什么事情他部会入迷，他都会将自己的全部精力和热情溶入其中。他让密列西耶夫沿着病房走来走去，当密列西耶夫精疲力竭，嘭的一下坐在椅子上时，他就拿把椅子与他并排坐着。 “喂，那么飞行呢，我们怎么飞呢？我是说飞行呢。我的天，如今这叫什么战争呀，失去手的人要指挥连队冲锋陷阵，快死的伤员还在开机关枪，用胸膛去堵住敌人的枪眼……唯有死者不打仗。”老人的脸黯然失色，叹息道，“死者也打仗，是用自己的荣誉打仗。好了，喂，我们开始吧，年轻人。” 当密列西耶夫沿病房走完第二趟，休息的时候，教授突然指指葛沃兹捷夫的床，问道：“这个坦克手怎么样？痊愈了，出院了？” 密列西耶夫回答说，他痊愈了，已经上了前线，只是脸部是件痛苦的事，尤其是下半部，烧伤的部位非常丑陋，无法弥补。 “他来过信啦？已经失望啦，人家姑娘不爱他啦？劝他蓄起胡子吧。我说的是真话。别人会以为他挺忙的呢，这完全可以得到姑娘的青睐！” 门口跑来一个气喘吁吁的护士，说人民委员会来了电话。瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇费力地从椅子上站起来。看着他这时用他那胖乎乎的、有着紫块的、脱皮的手那么撑着膝盖，那么吃力地把腰伸直，说明了最近几周他衰老得有多厉害。已经走到门口了，他又回过头来愉快地叫道： “您一定要这样给您的这位朋友写信，他叫什么来着，就说是我给他开的蓄胡子的药方。这可是个试验药方呐！在女士们那里定能大获成功！” 晚上医院里的一位老职员带给密列西耶夫一根手杖，是一根雅致的、古色古香的乌木手杖，舒适的手杖柄是象牙做成的，上面雕刻着一组花体字。 “教授送的，瓦西里?瓦西里耶维奇送的。他把他的私人物品作为赠品送给您。吩咐您用它走路。” 这个夏天的夜晚医院里寂寞乏味，可是四十二号病房里却吸引了人们来观光。左邻右舍，甚至楼上的人都来观看教授的赠品。果然是一根好手杖。