Tonya stood at the open window and pensively1 surveyed the familiar garden bordered by the stately poplars now stirring faintly in the gentle breeze. She could hardly believe that a whole year had passed since she had been here where her childhood years had been spent. It seemed that she had left home only yesterday and returned by this morning's train.
Nothing had changed: the rows of raspberry bushes were as carefully trimmed as ever, and the garden paths, lined with pansies, mother's favourite flowers, were laid out with the same geometric precision. Everything in the garden was neat and tidy—evidence of the pedantic2 hand of the dendrologist. The sight of these clean-swept, neatly3 drawn4 paths bored Tonya.
She picked up the novel she had been reading, opened the door leading to the veranda5 and walked down the stairs into the garden; she pushed open the little painted wicket gate and slowly headed for the pond next to the station pump house.
She passed the bridge and came out on the tree-lined road. On her right was the pond fringed with willows7 and alders8; on the left the forest began.
She was on her way to the ponds at the old stone-quarry9 when the sight of a fishing rod swung over the water made her pause.
Leaning over the trunk of a twisted willow6, she parted the branches and saw before her a suntanned, barefoot boy with trouser legs rolled up above the knee. Next to him was a rusty10 can with worms. The lad was too engrossed11 in his occupation to notice her.
"Do you think you can catch fish here?"
Pavel glanced angrily over his shoulder.
A girl in a white sailor blouse with a striped blue collar and a short light-grey skirt stood on the bank, holding on to the willow and bending low over the water. Short socks with a coloured edging clung to her shapely suntanned legs. Her chestnut12 hair was gathered in a heavy braid.
A slight tremor13 shook the hand holding the fishing rod and the goose-feather float bobbed, sending circles spreading over the smoothness of the water.
"Look, look, a bite!" the excited voice piped behind Pavel.
He now lost his composure completely and jerked at the line so hard that the hook with the squirming worm on the end of it fairly leapt out of the water.
"Not much chance to fish now, damn it! What the devil brought her here," Pavel thought irritably14 and in order to cover up his clumsiness cast the hook farther out, landing it, however, exactly where he should not have—between two burdocks where the line could easily get caught.
He realised what had happened and without turning around, hissed16 at the girl sitting above him on the bank:
"Can't you keep quiet? You'll scare off all the fish that way."
From above came the mocking voice:
"Your black looks have scared the fish away long ago. No self-respecting angler goes fishing in the afternoon anyway!"
Pavel had done his best to behave politely but this was too much for him. He got up and pushed his cap over his eyes, as he usually did when roused.
"You'd do better, miss, if you took yourself off," he muttered through his teeth, drawing on the most inoffensive part of his vocabulary.
Tonya's eyes narrowed slightly and laughter danced in them.
"Am I really interfering17?"
The teasing note had gone from her voice and given way to a friendly, conciliatory tone, and Pavel, who had primed himself to be really rude to this "missy" who had sprung from nowhere, found himself disarmed18.
"You can stay and watch, if you want to. It's all the same to me," he said grudgingly19 and sat down to attend to the float again. It had got stuck in the burdock and there was no doubt that the hook had caught in the roots. Pavel was afraid to pull at it. If it caught he would not be able to get it loose. And the girl would be sure to laugh. He wished she would go away.
Tonya, however, had settled more comfortably on the slightly swaying willow trunk and with her book on her knees was watching the sun-tanned, dark-eyed, rough-mannered young man who had given her such an ungracious reception and was now deliberately20 ignoring her.
Pavel saw the girl clearly reflected in the mirror-like surface of the pond, and when she seemed to be absorbed in her book he cautiously pulled at the entangled21 line. The float ducked under the water and the line grew taut22.
"Caught, damn it!" flashed in his mind and at the same moment he saw out of the corner of his eye the laughing face of the girl looking up at him from the water.
Just then two young men, both seventh-grade Gymnasium students, were coming across the bridge at the pump house. One of them was the seventeen-year-old son of engineer Sukharko, the chief of the railway yards, a loutish23, fair-haired, freckle-faced scapegrace whom his schoolmates had clubbed Pockmarked Shurka. He was carrying a fancy fishing rod and line and had a cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth. With him was Victor Leszczinski, a tall, effeminate youth.
"Now this girl is a peach, there's nobody like her about here," Sukharko was saying, winking24 significantly as he bent25 toward his companion. "You can take my word for it that she's chock-full of r-r-romance. She's in the sixth grade and goes to school in Kiev. Now she's come to spend the summer with her father—he's the chief forest warden26 here. My sister Liza knows her. I wrote her a letter once in a sentimental27 sort of vein28. 'I love you madly'—you know the sort of thing—'and await your answer in trepidation29'. Even dug up some suitable verses from Nadson."
"Well, what came of it?" Victor asked curiously30.
"Oh, she was frightfully stuck up about it," Sukharko muttered rather sheepishly. "Told me not to waste paper writing letters and all that. But that's how it always is in the beginning. I'm an old hand at this sort of thing. As a matter of fact I can't be bothered with all that romantic nonsense— mooning about for ages, sighing. It's much simpler to take a stroll of an evening down to the repairmen's barracks where for three rubles you can pick up a beauty that'd make your mouth water. And no nonsense either. I used to go out there with Valka Tikhonov—do you know him?
The foreman on the railway."
Victor scowled31 in disgust.
"Do you mean to tell me you go in for foul32 stuff like that, Shura?"
Shura chewed at his cigarette, spat33 and replied with a sneer34:
"Don't pretend to be so virtuous35. We know what you go in for."
Victor interrupted him.
"Will you introduce me to this peach of yours?"
"Of course. Let's hurry or she'll give us the slip. Yesterday morning she went fishing by herself."
As the two friends came up to Tonya, Sukharko took the cigarette out of his mouth and greeted her with a gallant36 bow.
"How do you do, Mademoiselle Tumanova. Have you come to fish too?"
"No, I'm just watching," replied Tonya.
"You two haven't met, have you?" Sukharko hastened to put in, taking Victor by the arm. "This ismy friend Victor Leszczinski."
Victor, blushing, extended his hand to Tonya.
"And why aren't you fishing today?" Sukharko inquired in an effort to keep up the conversation.
"I forgot to bring my rod," Tonya replied.
"I'll get another one right away," Sukharko said. "In the meantime you can have mine. I'll be backin a minute."
He had kept his promise to Victor to introduce him to the girl and was now anxious to leave themalone.
"I'd rather not, we should only be in the way. There's somebody fishing here already," said Tonya.
"In whose way?" Sukharko asked. "Oh, you mean him?" For the first time he noticed Pavel who was sitting under a bush. "Well, I'll get rid of him in two shakes."
Before Tonya could stop him he had slipped down to where Pavel was busy with his rod and line.
"Pull in that line of yours and clear out," Sukharko told Pavel. "Hurry up now. . ." he added as Pavel continued fishing calmly.
Pavel looked up and gave Sukharko a glance that boded37 no good.
"Shut up. Who do you think you are!"
"Wha-at!" Sukharko exploded. "You've got the cheek to answer back, you wretched tramp! Clear out of here!" He kicked violently at the can of worms which spun38 around in the air and fell into the pond, splashing water in Tonya's face.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sukharko!" she cried.
Pavel leapt to his feet. He knew that Sukharko was the son of the chief of the railway yards where Artem worked, and that if he hit that flabby, mousy mug of his he would complain to his father and Artem would get into trouble. This alone prevented him from settling the matter then andthere.
Sensing that Pavel would hit out at him in another moment, Sukharko rushed forward and pushed him in the chest with both hands. Pavel, standing39 at the water's edge, teetered dangerously, but by frantically40 waving his arms regained41 his balance and saved himself from falling in.
Sukharko was two years older than Pavel and notorious as a troublemaker42 and bully43. The blow in the chest made Pavel see red.
"So, that's what you want! Take this!" And with a short swing of his arm he punched Sukharko's face. Before the latter had time to recover, Pavel seized him firmly by his uniform blouse,clinched him and dragged him into the water.
Knee-deep in the pond, his polished shoes and trousers soaking wet, Sukharko struggled with all his might to wrench44 himself loose from Pavel's powerful grip. Having achieved his purpose, Pavel jumped ashore45. The enraged46 Sukharko charged after him, ready to tear him to pieces.
As he spun around to face his opponent, Pavel remembered:
"Rest your weight on your left foot, with your right leg tense and right knee bent. Put the weight of your whole body behind the punch and strike upward, at the point of the chin."
Crack!
Sukharko's teeth clicked as Pavel's fist struck. Squealing47 from the excruciating pain that shot through his chin and his tongue which was caught between the teeth, Sukharko flailed48 wildly with his arms and fell back into the water with a loud splash.
Up on the bank Tonya was doubled up with laughter.
"Bravo, bravo!" she cried, clapping her hands. "Well done!"
Seizing his entangled fishing line, Pavel jerked at it so hard that it snapped, and scrambled49 up the bank to the road.
"That's Pavel Korchagin, a rowdy if there ever was one," he heard Victor say to Tonya as he went.
There was trouble brewing50 at the station. Rumour51 had it that the railwaymen on the line were downing tools.
The workers of the yards at the next large station had started something big. The Germans arrested two engine drivers suspected of carrying proclamations with them. And among the workers who had ties with the countryside there was serious ferment52 because of the requisitioning and the
return of landlords to their estates.
The lashes53 of the Hetman's guards seared the backs of the peasants. The partisan54 movement was developing in the gubernia; the Bolsheviks had already organised nearly a dozen partisan detachments.
There was no rest for Zhukhrai these days. During his stay in the town he had accomplished55 a great deal. He had made the acquaintance of many railway workers, attended gatherings56 of young folk, and built up a strong group among the mechanics at the railway yards and the sawmill workers. He tried to find out where Artem stood, and he asked him once what he thought about the Bolshevik Party and its cause.
"I don't know much about these parties, Fyodor," the burly mechanic replied. "But if there's help needed, you can count on me."
Fyodor was satisfied, for he knew that Artem was made of the right stuff and would stand by his word. As for the Party, he wasn't ready for that yet. "Never mind," he thought, "in times like these he'll soon learn for himself."
Fyodor left the power station for a job at the railway yards, where it was easier for him to carry on his work. At the electric station he had been cut off from the railway.
Traffic on the railway was exceedingly heavy. The Germans were shipping57 carloads of loot by the thousand from the Ukraine to Germany: rye, wheat, cattle. . . .
One day the Hetman's guards arrested Ponomarenko, the station telegrapher. He was taken to the guardhouse and brutally58 beaten. It was he, evidently, who gave away Roman Sidorenko, a workmate of Artem's.
Two Germans and a Hetman's guard, the Station Commandant's Assistant, came for Roman during working hours. Without saying a word, the Assistant Commandant walked over to the bench where Roman was working and cut him across the face with his riding crop.
"Come along, you sonofabitch!" he said. "You've got some explaining to do!" With an ugly leer he seized hold of the mechanic's arm and wrenched60 it violently. "We'll teach you to go around agitating61!"
Artem, who had been working at the vice62 next to Roman, dropped his file and came at the Assistant Commandant, his massive frame menacingly poised63.
"Keep your fists off him, you bastard64!" Artem spoke65 hoarsely66, doing his best to restrain his rising fury.
The Assistant Commandant fell back, unfastening his holster as he did so. One of the Germans, a short-legged man, unslung his heavy rifle with the broad-bladed bayonet from his shoulder and sharply clicked the bolt.
"Halt!" he barked, ready to shoot at another move.
The tall, brawny67 mechanic stood helpless before the puny68 soldier; he could do nothing.
Both Roman and Artem were placed under arrest. Artem was released an hour later, but Roman was locked up in a luggage room in the basement.
Ten minutes after the arrest not a single man was working. The railway yard workers assembled in the station park where they were joined by the switchmen and the men employed at the supply warehouses69. Feeling ran high and someone drafted a written demand for the release of Roman and
Ponomarenko.
Indignation rose higher still when the Assistant Commandant rushed into the park at the head of a group of guards brandishing70 a revolver and shouting:
"Back to work, or we'll arrest every last man of you on the spot! And put some of you up against the wall!"
The infuriated workers replied with a bellow71 that sent him running for cover to the station. In the meantime, however, the Station Commandant had summoned German troops from the town and truckloads of them were already careering down the road leading to the station.
The workers dispersed72 and hurried home. No one, not even the stationmaster, remained on the job.
Zhukhrai's work was beginning to make itself felt; this was the first time the workers at the station had taken mass action.
The Germans mounted a heavy machine gun on the platform; it stood there like a pointer that has spotted73 a quarry. Next to it squatted74 a German corporal, his hand resting on the trigger grip.
The station grew deserted75.
At night the arrests began. Artem was among those taken. Zhukhrai escaped by not going home that night.
All the arrested men were herded76 together in a huge freight shed and given the alternative of either returning to work or being court-martialled.
Practically all the railwaymen were on strike all along the line. For a day and a night not a single train went through, and one hundred and twenty kilometres away a battle was being fought with a large partisan detachment which had cut the railway line and blown up the bridges.
During the night a German troop train pulled in but was held up because the engine driver, his helper and the fireman had deserted the locomotive. There were two more trains on the station sidings waiting to leave.
The heavy doors of the freight shed swung open and in walked the Station Commandant, a German lieutenant77, his assistant, and a group of other Germans.
"Korchagin, Polentovsky, Bruzzhak," the Commandant's Assistant called out. "You will make up an engine crew and take a train out at once. If you refuse, you will be shot on the spot. What do you say?"
The three workers nodded sullen78 consent. They were escorted under guard to the locomotive while the Commandant's Assistant went on to call out the names of the driver, helper and fireman for the next train.
The locomotive snorted angrily, sending up geysers of sparks. Breathing heavily it breasted the gloom ahead as it pounded along the track into the depths of night. Artem, who had just shovelled80 coal into the firebox, kicked the door shut, took a gulp81 of water from the snubnosed teapot
standing on the toolbox, and turned to Polentovsky, the old engine driver.
"Well, pa, are we taking it through?"
Polentovsky's eyes blinked irritably under their overhanging eyebrows82.
"You will when there's a bayonet at your back."
"We could chuck everything and make a dash for it," suggested Bruzzhak, watching the German soldier sitting on the tender from the corner of his eye.
"I think so too," muttered Artem, "if it wasn't for that bird behind our backs."
"That's right," Bruzzhak was noncommittal as he stuck his head out of the window.
Polentovsky moved closer to Artem.
"We can't take the train through, understand?" he whispered. "There's fighting going on ahead.
Our fellows have blown up the track. And here we are bringing these swine there so they can shoot them down. You know, son, even in the tsar's time I never drove an engine when there was a strike on, and I'm not going to do it now. We'd disgrace ourselves for life if we brought destruction down on our own kind. The other engine crew ran away, didn't they? They risked their
lives, but they did it. We just can't take the train through. What do you think?"
"You're right, pa, but what are you going to do about him?" and he indicated the soldier with a glance.
The engine driver scowled. He wiped his sweating forehead with a handful of waste and stared with bloodshot eyes at the pressure gauge83 as if seeking an answer there to the question tormenting84 him. Then he swore in fury and desperation.
Artem drank again from the teapot. The two men were thinking of one thing, but neither could bring himself to break the tense silence. Artem recalled Zhukhrai's question: "Well, brother, what do you think about the Bolshevik Party and the Gommunist idea?" and his own reply: "I am always ready to help, you can count on me. . . ."
"A fine way to help," he thought, "driving a punitive85 expedition. . . ."
Polentovsky was now bending over the toolbox next to Artem. Hoarsely he said:
"That fellow, we've got to do him in. Understand?"
Artem started. Polentovsky added through clenched86 teeth:
"There's no other way out. Got to knock him over the head and chuck the throttle87 and the levers into the firebox, cut off the steam and then run for it."
Feeling as if a heavy weight had dropped off his shoulders Artem said: "Right!" Leaning toward Bruzzhak, Artem told him of their decision.
Bruzzhak did not answer at once. They all were taking a very great risk. Each had a family at home to think of. Polentovsky's was the largest: he had nine mouths to feed. But all three knew that they could not take the train to its destination.
"Good, I'm with you," Bruzzhak said. "But what about him? Who's going to. . . ." He did not finish the sentence but his meaning was clear enough to Artem.
Artem turned to Polentovsky, who was now busy with the throttle, and nodded as if to say that Bruzzhak agreed with them, but then, tormented88 by a question still unsettled, he stepped closer to the old man.
"But how?"
Polentovsky looked at Artem.
"You begin, you're the strongest. We'll conk him with the crowbar and it'll be all over." The old man was violently agitated89.
Artem frowned.
"I can't do it. I can't. After all, when you come to think of it, the man isn't to blame. He's also been forced into this at the point of the bayonet."
Polentovsky's eyes flashed.
"Not to blame, you say? Neither are we for being made to do this ]ob. But don't forget it's a punitive expedition we're hauling. These innocents are going out to shoot down partisans90. Are the partisans to blame then? No, my lad, you've mighty91 little sense for all that you're strong as an ox. . . ."
"All right, all right," Artem's voice cracked. He picked up the crowbar, but Polentovsky whispered to him:
"I'll do it, be more certain that way. You take the shovel79 and climb up to pass down the coal from the tender. If necessary you give him one with the shovel. I'll pretend to be loosening up the coal."
Bruzzhak heard what was said, and nodded. "The old man's right," he said, and took his place at the throttle.
The German soldier in his forage92 cap with a red band around it was sitting at the edge of the tender holding his rifle between his feet and smoking a cigar. From time to time he threw a glance at the engine crew going about their work in the cab.
When Artem climbed up on top of the tender the sentry93 paid little attention to him. And when Polentovsky, who pretended he wanted to get at the larger chunks94 of coal next to the side of the tender, signed to him to move out of the way, the German readily slipped down in the direction of the door leading to the cab.
The sudden crunch95 of the German's skull96 as it caved in under the crowbar made Artem and Bruzzhak jump as if touched by red-hot iron. The body of the soldier rolled limply into the passage leading to the cab.
The blood seeped97 rapidly through the grey cloth forage cap and the rifle clattered98 against the iron side of the tender.
"That's that," Polentovsky whispered as he dropped the crowbar. "No turning back for us now," he added, his face twitching99 convulsively.
His voice broke, then rose to a shout to repel100 the silence that descended101 heavily on the three men.
"Unscrew the throttle, quick!" he shouted. In ten minutes the job was done. The locomotive, now out of control, was slowly losing speed.
The dark ponderous102 shapes of trees on the wayside lunged into the radius103 of light around the engine only to recede104 into the impenetrable gloom behind. In vain the engine's headlights sought to pierce the thick shroud105 of night for more than a dozen metres ahead, and gradually its stertorous106 breathing slowed down as if it had spent the last of its strength.
"Jump, son!" Artem heard Polentovsky's voice behind him and he let go of the handrail. The momentum107 of the train sent his powerful body hurtling forward until with a jolt108 his feet met the earth surging up from below. He ran for a pace or two and tumbled heavily head over heels.
Two other shadows left the engine simultaneously109, one from each side of the cab.
Gloom had settled over the Bruzzhak house. Antonina Vasilievna, Sergei's mother, had eaten her heart out during the past four days. There had been no news from her husband; all she knew wasthat the Germans had forced him to man an engine together with Korchagin and Polentovsky. And yesterday three of the Hetman's guards had come around and questioned her in a rough, abusive manner.
From what they said she vaguely110 gathered that something had gone wrong and, gravely perturbed,she threw her kerchief over her head as soon as the men left and set out to see Maria Yakovlevna in the hope of learning some news of her husband.
Valya, her eldest111 daughter, who was tidying up the kitchen, noticed her slipping out of the house.
"Where're you off to, Mother?" the girl asked.
"To the Korchagins," Antonina Vasilievna replied, glancing at her daughter with eyes brimming with tears. "Perhaps they know something about father. If Sergei comes home tell him to go over to the station to see the Polentovskys."
Valya threw her arms around her mother's shoulders.
"Don't worry, Mum," she said as she saw her to the door.
As usual, Maria Yakovlevna gave Antonina Vasilievna a hearty112 welcome. Each had hoped that the other would have some news to tell, but the hope vanished as soon as they got talking.
The Korchagins' place had also been searched during the night. The soldiers had been looking for Artem, and had told Maria Yakovlevna on leaving to report to the Kommandantur as soon as her son returned.
The coming of the patrol had frightened Pavel's mother almost out of her wits. She had been homealone, for Pavel as usual was on the night shift at the power plant.
When Pavel returned from work early in the morning and heard from his mother about the search,he was much troubled. He feared for his brother's safety. Despite differences in character and Artem's seeming hardness, the two brothers were deeply attached to one another. It was a stern,undemonstrative affection, but Pavel knew that there was no sacrifice he would not make for his brother's sake,
Without stopping to rest, Pavel ran over to the station to look for Zhukhrai. He could not find him,and the other workers he knew could tell him nothing about the missing men. Engine driver Polentovsky's family too was completely in the dark; all he could learn from Polentovsky's youngest son, Boris, whom he met in the yard, was that their house too had been searched that night. The soldiers had been looking for his father.
Pavel came back to his mother with no news to report. Exhausted113, he threw himself on the bed and dropped instantly into fitful slumber114.
Valya looked up as the knock came at the door.
"Who's there?" she asked, unhooking the catch.
The dishevelled carroty head of Klimka Marchenko appeared in the open door. He had evidently been running, for he was out of breath and his face was red from exertion115.
"Is your mother home?" he asked Valya.
"No, she's gone out."
"Where to?"
"To the Korchagins, I think." Valya seized hold of Klimka's sleeve as the boy was about to dash off.
Klimka looked up at the girl in hesitation116.
"I've got to see her about something," he ventured.
"What is it?" Valya would not let him go. "Out with it, you red-headed bear you, and stop keeping me in suspense," she commanded.
Klimka forgot Zhukhrai's warnings and his strict instructions to deliver the note into Antonina Vasilievna's hands, and he pulled a soiled scrap117 of paper out of his pocket and handed it to the girl.
He could not refuse anything to Sergei's pretty fair-haired sister, for truth to tell he had a soft spot in his heart for her. He was far too timid, however, to admit it even to himself. The girl quickly read the slip of paper he had handed to her.
"Dear Tonya! Don't worry. All's well. They're safe and sound. Soon you will have more news. Let the others know that everything is all right so they needn't worry. Destroy this note. Zykhar"
Valya rushed over to Klimka.
"My dear little brown bear, where did you get this? Who gave it to you?" And she shook Klimka so violently that he quite lost his presence of mind and made his second blunder before he knew it.
"Zhukhrai gave it to me down at the station." Then, remembering that he should not have said it,
he added: "But he told me not to give it to anybody but your mother."
"That's all right," Valya laughed. "I won't tell anybody. Now you run along like a good little bear to Pavel's place and you'll find mother there." And she gave the lad a light push in the back.
A second later Klimka's red head disappeared through the garden gate.
None of the three railwaymen returned home. In the evening Zhukhrai came to the Korchagins and told Maria Yakovlevna what had happened on the train. He did his best to calm the fear-stricken mother, and assured her that all three were safe with Bruzzhak's uncle who lived in an out-of-theway village; they could not come back now, of course, but the Germans were in a tight fix and the situation was likely to change any day.
The disappearance118 of the three men brought their families closer together than ever. The rare notes that were received from them were read with rejoicing, but home seemed an empty and dreary119 place without them.
One day Zhukhrai dropped in to see Polentovsky's wife as if in passing, and gave her some money.
"Here's something from your husband to keep you going," he said. "Only see you don't mention it to anyone."
The old woman gratefully clasped his hand.
"Thanks. We need it badly. There's nothing to give the children to eat."
The money came from the fund left by Bulgakov.
"Well, now we'll see what comes next," said Zhukhrai to himself as he walked back to the station.
"Even if the strike's broken under the threat of shooting, even if the workers are back at the job,the fire has been kindled120 and it can't be put out any more. As for those three, they're stout121 fellows,true proletarians,"
In a little old smithy whose soot-blackened front faced the road in the outskirts122 of the village of Vorobyova Balka, Polentovsky stood before the glowing forge, his eyes narrowed from the glare, and turned over a red-hot piece of iron with a pair of long-handled tongs123.
Artem pumped the bellows124 suspended from a crossbeam overhead.
"A skilled worker won't go under in the villages these days—there's as much work to be had as you might want," chuckling125 good-naturedly in his beard the engine driver said. "A week or two like this and we'll be able to send some fatback and flour home to the folks. The peasant always respects a smith, son. You'll see, we'll feed ourselves up like capitalists, ha-ha! Zakhar's a bit different from us—he hangs on to the peasantry, has his roots in the land through that uncle of his.
Well, I can't say as I blame him. You and me, Artem, we've got neither harrow nor barrow, so to say, nought126 but a strong back and a pair of hands—what they call eternal proletarians, that's us— ha-ha—but old Zakhar's kind of split in two, one foot in the locomotive and the other in the village." He shifted the red-hot metal with the tongs and continued in a more serious vein: "As for us, son, things look bad. If the Germans aren't smashed pretty soon we'll have to get through to Yekaterinoslav or Rostov; otherwise we might find ourselves nabbed and strung up between heaven and earth before we know it." "You're right there," Artem mumbled127. "I wish I knew how our people are getting on out there. Are the Haidamaks leaving them alone, I wonder."
"Yes, pa, we're in a mess. We'll just have to give up thinking of going home."
The engine driver pulled the hot piece of glowing blue metal from the forge and with a dexterous128 movement laid it on the anvil129.
"Lay on to it, son!"
Artem seized the sledge-hammer, swung it high above his head and then brought it down on the anvil. A fountain of bright sparks spurted131 with a hiss15 in all directions, lighting133 up for a moment the darkest corners of the smithy. Polentovsky turned over the red-hot slab134 under the powerful blows and the iron obediently flattened135 out like so much soft wax.
Through the open doors of the smithy came the warm breath of the dark night.
Down below lay the lake, dark and vast. The pines surrounding it on all sides nodded their lofty heads.
"Like living things," thought Tonya looking up at them. She was lying in a grass-carpeted depression on the granite136 shore. High above her beyond the hollow the woods began, and below, at the very foot of the bluff137, was the lake. The shadows of the cliffs pressing in on the lake gave the dark sheet of water a still darker fringe.
This old stone quarry not far from the station was Tonya's favourite haunt. Springs had burst forth138 in the deep abandoned workings and now three lakes had formed there. The sound of splashing from where the shore dropped into the water caused Tonya to raise her head. Parting the branches in front of her, she looked in the direction of the sound. A supple139, sun-tanned body was swimming away from the shore with strong strokes. Tonya caught sight of the swimmer's brown back and dark head; he snorted like a walrus140, cut through the water with brisk strokes, somersaulted and dived, then turned over on his back and floated, squinting141 in the bright sun, his arms stretched out and his body slightly bent.
Tonya let the branch fall back into place. "It's not nice to look," she smiled to herself and returnedto her reading.
She was so engrossed in the book which Leszczinski had given her that she did not noticesomeone climb over the granite rocks that separated the hollow from the pine woods; only when apebble, inadvertently set into motion by the intruder, rolled onto the book did she look up with a start to see Pavel Korchagin standing before her. He too was taken aback by the encounter and in his confusion turned to go.
"It must have been him I saw in the water," Tonya thought as she noticed his wet hair.
"Did I frighten you? I didn't know you were here,"
Pavel laid his hand on the rocky ledge130. He had recognised Tonya.
"You aren't interfering at all. You may stay and talk with me for a while if you like."
Pavel looked at Tonya in surprise.
"What could we talk about?"
Tonya smiled.
"Why don't you sit down—here, for instance?" She pointed142 to a stone. "What is your name?"
"Pavka Korchagin."
"My name's Tonya. So now we've introduced ourselves."
Pavel twisted his cap in embarrassment143.
"So you're called Pavka?" Tonya broke the silence. "Why Pavka? It doesn't sound nice, Pavel would be ever so much better. That's what I shall call you—Pavel. Do you come here often. .. ."
She wanted to say "to swim", but not wishing to admit having seen him in the water, she said instead: "for a walk?"
"No, not often. Only when I've got time off," Pavel replied.
"So you work somewhere?" Tonya questioned him further.
"At the power plant. As a stoker."
"Tell me, where did you learn to fight so skilfully144?" Tonya asked unexpectedly.
"What's my fighting to you?" Pavel blurted145 out in spite of himself.
"Now don't be angry, Korchagin," said Tonya hastily, seeing that her question had annoyed him.
"I'm just interested, that's all. What a punch that was! You shouldn't be so merciless." She burst out laughing.
"Sorry for him, eh?" Pavel asked.
"Not at all. On the contrary, Sukharko only got what he deserved. I enjoyed it immensely. I hear you get into scraps146 quite often."
"Who says so?" Pavel pricked147 up his ears.
"Well, Victor Leszczinski declares you're a professional scrapper148."
Pavel's features darkened.
"Victor's a swine and a softy. He ought to be thankful he didn't get it then. I heard what he said about me, but I didn't want to muck up my hands."
"Don't use such language, Pavel. It's not nice," Tonya interrupted him.
Pavel bristled149.
"Why did I have to start talking to this ninny?" he thought to himself. "Ordering me about like this: first it's 'Pavka' doesn't suit her and now she's finding fault with my language."
"What have you against Leszczinski?" Tonya asked.
"He's a sissy, a mama's boy without any guts150! My fingers itch59 at the sight of his kind: always trying to walk all over you, thinks he can do anything he wants because he's rich. But I don't give a damn for his wealth. Just let him try to touch me and he'll get it good and proper. Fellows like that are only asking for a punch in the jaw," Pavel went on, roused.
Tonya regretted having mentioned Leszczinski. She could see that this young man had old scores to settle with the dandified schoolboy. To steer151 the conversation into more placid152 channels she began questioning Pavel about his family and work.
Before he knew it, Pavel was answering the girl's questions in great detail, forgetting that he had wanted to go.
"Why didn't you finish school?" Tonya asked.
"Got thrown out."
"Why?"
Pavel blushed.
"I put some tobacco in the priest's dough153, and so they chucked me out. He was mean, that priest;he'd worry the life out of you." And Pavel told her the whole story.
Tonya listened with interest. Pavel got over his initial shyness and was soon talking to her as if she were an old acquaintance. Among other things he told her about his brother's disappearance.
Neither of the two noticed the hours pass as they sat there in the hollow engrossed in friendly conversation. At last Pavel sprang to his feet.
"It's time I was at work. I ought to be firing the boilers154 instead of sitting here gassing. Danilo is sure to raise a fuss now." Ill at ease once more he added: "Well, good-bye, miss. I've got to dash off to town now."
Tonya jumped up, pulling on her jacket.
"I must go too. Let's go together."
"Oh no, couldn't do that. I'll have to run."
"All right. I'll race you. Let's see who gets there first."
Pavel gave her a disdainful look. "Race me? You haven't a chance!"
"We'll see. Let's get out of here first." Pavel jumped over the ledge of stone, then extended a hand to Tonya, and the two trotted156 through the woods to the broad, level clearing leading to the station.
Tonya stopped in the middle of the road. "Now, let's go: one, two, three, go! Try and catch me!" She was off like a whirlwind down the track, the soles of her shoes flashing and the tail of her blue jacket flying in the wind. Pavel raced after her.
"I'll catch up with her in two shakes," thought Pavel as he sped after the flying jacket, but it was only at the end of the lane quite close to the station that he overtook her. Making a final spurt132, he caught up with her and seized her shoulders with his strong hands.
"Tag! You're it!" he cried gaily157, panting from the exertion.
"Don't! You're hurting me!" Tonya resisted. As they stood there panting, their pulses racing,Tonya, exhausted by the wild chase, leaned ever so lightly against Pavel in a fleeting158 moment of sweet intimacy159 that he was not soon to forget.
"Nobody has ever overtaken me before," she said as she drew away from him.
At this they parted and with a farewell wave of his cap Pavel ran toward town.
When Pavel pushed open the boiler155-room door, Danilo, the stoker, was already busy firing the boiler.
"Couldn't you make it any later?" he growled160. "Expect me to do your work for you?" Pavel patted his mate on the shoulder placatingly161. "We'll have the fire going full blast in a jiffy, old man," he said cheerfully and applied162 himself to the firewood.
Toward midnight, when Danilo was snoring lustily on the woodpile, Pavel finished oiling the engine, wiped his hands on waste, pulled out the sixty-second instalment of Giuseppe Garibaldi from a toolbox, and was soon lost in the fascinating adventures of the Neapolitan "Redshirts' "
legendary163 leader.
"She gazed at the duke with her beautiful blue eyes. . . ."
"She's also got blue eyes," thought Pavel. "And she's different, not at all like rich folk. And she can run like the devil."
Engrossed in the memory of his encounter with Tonya during the day, Pavel did not hear the rising whine164 of the engine which was now straining under the pressure of excess steam; the huge flywheel whirled madly and a nervous tremor ran through the concrete mounting.
A glance at the pressure gauge showed Pavel that the needle was several points above the red warning line.
"Damn it!" Pavel leapt to the safety valve, gave it two quick turns, and the steam ejected through the exhaust pipe into the river hissed hoarsely outside the boiler room. Pulling a lever, Pavel threw the drive belt onto the pump pulley.
He glanced at Danilo, but the latter was fast asleep, his mouth wide open and his nose emitting fearful sounds.
Half a minute later the pressure gauge needle had returned to normal.
After parting with Pavel, Tonya headed for home, her thoughts occupied by her encounter with the dark-eyed lad; she felt happy, though she did not know why.
"What spirit he has, what grit165! And he isn't at all the ruffian I imagined him to be. At any rate he's nothing like all those silly schoolboys. . . ."
Pavel was of another mould, he came from an environment to which Tonya was a stranger.
"But he can be tamed," she thought. "He'll be an interesting friend to have."
As she approached home, she saw Liza Sukharko and Nelly and Victor Leszczinski in the garden.
Victor was reading. They were obviously waiting for her.
They exchanged greetings and she sat down on a bench. In the midst of the empty small talk,Victor sat down beside her and asked:
"Have you read the novel I gave you?"
"Novel?" Tonya looked up. "Oh, I. . . ." She almost told him she had forgotten the book on the lakeshore.
"Did you like the love story?" Victor looked at her questioningly.
Tonya was lost in thought for a moment, then, slowly tracing an intricate pattern on the sand of the walk with the toe of her shoe, she raised her head and looked at Victor.
"No. I have begun a far more interesting love story." "Indeed?" Victor drawled, annoyed. "Who's the author?"
Tonya looked at him with shining, smiling eyes.
"There is no author. . . ."
"Tonya, ask your visitors in. Tea's served," Tonya's mother called from the balcony.
Taking the two girls by the arm, Tonya led the way to the house. As he followed them, Victor puzzled over her words, unable to guess their meaning.
This strange new feeling that had imperceptibly taken possession of him disturbed Pavel; he did not understand it and his rebellious166 spirit was troubled.
Tonya's father was the chief forest warden, which, as far as Pavel was concerned, put him in the same class as the lawyer Leszczinski.
Pavel had grown up in poverty and want, and he was hostile to anyone whom he considered to be well off. And so his feeling for Tonya was tinged167 with apprehension168 and misgiving169; Tonya was not one of his own crowd, she was not simple and easy to understand like Galochka, the stonemason's daughter, for instance. With Tonya he was always on his guard, ready to rebuff any hint of the mockery or condescension170 he would expect a beautiful and cultivated girl like her to show towards a common stoker like himself.
He had not seen her for a whole week and today he decided171 to go down to the lake. He deliberately chose the road that took him past her house in the hope of meeting her. As he walked slowly past the fence, he caught sight of the familiar sailor blouse at the far end of the garden. He picked up a pine cone172 lying on the road, aimed it at the white blouse and let fly.
Tonya turned, saw him and ran over to the fence, stretching out her hand with a warm smile.
"You've come at last," she said and there was gladness in her voice. "Where have you been all this time? I went down to the lake to get the book I had left there. I thought you might be there. Won't you come in?"
Pavel shook his head.
"No."
"Why not?" Her eyebrows rose in surprise.
"Your father wouldn't like it, I bet. He'd likely give you hell for letting a ragamuffin like me into the garden."
"What nonsense, Pavel," Tonya said in anger. "Come inside at once. My father would never say anything of the kind. You'll see for yourself. Now come in."
She ran to open the gate for him and Pavel followed her uncertainly.
"Do you like books?" she asked him when they were seated at a round garden table.
"Very much," Pavel replied eagerly.
"What book do you like best of all?"
Pavel pondered the question for a few moments before replying: "Jeezeppy Garibaldi."
"Giuseppe Garibaldi," Tonya corrected him. "So you like that book particularly?"
"Yes. I've read all the sixty-eight instalments. I buy five of them every pay day. Garibaldi, that's a man for you!" Pavel exclaimed. "A real hero! That's what I call the real stuff. All those battles he had to fight and he always came out on top. And he travelled all over the world! If he was alive today I would join him, I swear I would. He used to take young workers into his band and they all fought together for the poor folk."
"Would you like me to show you our library?" Tonya said and took his arm.
"Oh no, I'm not going into the house," Pavel objected.
"Why are you so stubborn? What is there to be afraid of?"
Pavel glanced down at his bare feet which were none too clean, and scratched the back of his head.
"Are you sure your mother or your father won't throw me out?"
"If you don't stop saying such things I'll get really annoyed with you," Tonya flared173 up.
"Well, Leszczinski would never let the likes of us into his house, he always talks to us in the kitchen. I had to go there for something once and Nelly wouldn't even let me into the room—must have been afraid I'd spoil her carpets or something," Pavel said with a grin.
"Come on, come on," she urged him, taking him by the shoulder and giving him a friendly little push toward the porch.
She led him through the dining room into a room with a huge oak bookcase. And when she opened the doors Pavel beheld174 hundreds of books standing in neat rows. He had never seen such wealth in his life.
"Now we'll find an interesting book for you, and you must promise to come regularly for more.
Will you?"
Pavel nodded happily.
"I love books," he said.
They spent several pleasant hours together that day. She introduced him to her mother. It was not such a terrible ordeal175 after all. In fact he liked Tonya's mother.
Tonya took Pavel to her own room and showed him her own books.
On the dressing176 table stood a small mirror. Tonya led Pavel up to it and said with a little laugh:
"Why do you let your hair grow wild like that? Don't you ever cut it or comb it?"
"I just shave it clean off when it grows too long. What else should I do with it?" Pavel said,embarrassed.
Tonya laughed, and picking up a comb from the dressing table she ran it quickly a few times through his unruly locks.
"There, that's better," she said as she surveyed her handiwork. "Hair ought to be neatly cut, you shouldn't go around looking like an oaf."
She glanced critically at his faded brown shirt and his shabby trousers but made no further comment.
Pavel noticed the glance and felt ashamed of his clothes.
When they said good-bye, Tonya invited him to come again. She made him promise to come in two days' time and go fishing with her.
Pavel left the house by the simple expedient177 of jumping out of the window; he did not care to go through the other rooms and meet Tonya's mother again.
With Artem gone, things grew hard for the Korchagins. Pavel's wages did not suffice.
Maria Yakovlevna suggested to Pavel that she go out to work again, especially since the Leszczinskis happened to be in need of a cook. But Pavel was against it.
"No, mother, I'll find some extra work to do. They need men at the sawmill to stack the timber. I'll put in a half a day there and that'll give us enough to live on. You mustn't go to work, or Artem
will be angry with me for not being able to get along without that."
His mother tried to insist, but Pavel was adamant178.
The next day Pavel was already working at the sawmill stacking up the freshly sawn boards to dry.
There he met several lads he knew, Misha Levchukov, an old schoolmate of his, and Vanya Kuleshov. Misha and he teamed together and working at piece rates they earned quite well. Pavel spent his days at the sawmill and in the evenings went to his job at the power plant.
On the evening of the tenth day Pavel brought his earnings179 to his mother.
As he handed her the money, he fidgeted uneasily, blushed and said finally:
"You know what, mother, buy me a sateen shirt, a blue one—like the one I had last year,remember? It'll take about half the money, but don't worry, I'll earn some more. This shirt of mine is pretty shabby," he added, as if apologising far his request.
"Why, of course I'll buy it for you," said his mother, "I'll get the material today, Pavlusha, and tomorrow I'll sew it. You really do need a new shirt." And she gazed tenderly at her son.
Pavel paused at the entrance to the barbershop and fingering the ruble in his pocket turned into the doorway180.
The barber, a smart-looking young man, noticed him entering and signed toward the empty chair with his head.
"Next, please."
As he settled into the deep, soft chair, Pavel saw in the mirror before him a flustered181, confused face.
"Clip it close?" the barber asked.
"Yes, that is, no—well, what I want is a haircut—how do you call it?" Pavel floundered, making a despairing gesture with his hand.
"I understand," the barber smiled.
A quarter of an hour later Pavel emerged, perspiring182 and exhausted by the ordeal, but with his hair neatly trimmed and combed. The barber had worked hard at the unruly mop, but water and the comb had won out in the end and the bristling183 tufts now lay neatly in place.
Out in the street Pavel heaved a sigh of relief and pulled his cap down over his eyes.
"I wonder what mother'll say when she sees me?" he thought.
Tonya was vexed184 when Pavel did not keep his promise to go fishing with her.
"That stoker boy isn't very considerate," she thought with annoyance185, but when several more days passed and Pavel failed to appear she began to long for his company.
One day as she was about to go out for a walk, her mother looked into her room and said:
"A visitor to see you, Tonya. May he come in?"
Pavel appeared in the doorway, changed so much that Tonya barely recognised him at first.
He was wearing a brand-new blue sateen shirt and dark trousers. His boots had been polished until they shone, and, as Tonya noted186 at once, his bristly mop had been trimmed. The grimy young stoker was transformed.
Tonya was about to express her surprise, but checked herself in time for she did not want to embarrass the lad, who was uncomfortable enough as it was. So she pretended not to have noticed the striking change in his appearance and began scolding him instead.
"Why didn't you come fishing? You should be ashamed of yourself! Is that how you keep your promises?"
"I've been working at the sawmill these days and just couldn't get away."
He could not tell her that he had been working the last few days to the point of exhaustion187 in order to buy himself the shirt and trousers.
Tonya, however, guessed the truth herself and her annoyance with Pavel vanished.
"Let's go for a walk down to the pond," she suggested, and they went out through the garden onto the road.
Before long Pavel was telling Tonya about the revolver he had stolen from the Lieutenant, sharing his big secret with her as with a friend, and promising188 her that some day very soon they would go deep into the woods to do some shooting.
"But see that you don't give me away," Pavel said abruptly189.
"I shall never give you away," Tonya vowed190.
冬妮亚站在敞开的窗户前，闷闷不乐地望着熟悉而亲切的花园，望着花园四周那些挺拔的、在微风中轻轻摇曳的白杨。她简直不敢相信，离开自己的家园已经整整一年了。她仿佛昨天才离开这个童年时代就熟悉的地方，今天又乘早车返了回来。
这里什么都没有变样：依然是一排排修剪得整整齐齐的树莓，依然是按几何图形布局的小径，两旁种着妈妈喜爱的蝴蝶花。花园里的一切都是那样干净利落。处处都显示出一个学究式的林学家的匠心。但是这些干净的、图案似的小径却使冬妮亚感到乏味。
冬妮亚拿了一本没有读完的小说，打开通外廊的门，下了台阶，走进花园。她又推开油漆的小栅栏门，缓步朝车站水塔旁边的池塘走去。
她走过一座小桥，上了大路。这条路很像公园里的林荫道。右边是池塘，池塘周围长着垂柳和茂密的柳丛。左边是一片树林。
她刚想朝池塘附近的旧采石场走去，忽然看见下面池塘岸边扬起一根钓竿，于是就停住了脚步。
她从一棵弯曲的柳树上面探过身去，用手拨开柳丛的枝条，看到下面有一个晒得黝黑的男孩子。他光着脚，裤腿一直卷到大腿上，身旁放着一只盛蚯蚓的锈铁罐子。那少年正在聚精会神地钓鱼，没有发觉冬妮亚在注视他。
“这儿难道能钓着鱼吗？”
保尔生气地回头看了一眼。
他看见一个陌生的姑娘站在那里，手扶着柳树，身子探向水面。她穿着领子上有蓝条的白色水兵服和浅灰色短裙。一双带花边的短袜紧紧裹住晒黑了的匀称的小腿，脚上穿着棕色的便鞋。栗色的头发梳成一条粗大的辫子。
拿钓竿的手轻轻颤动了一下，鹅毛鱼漂点了点头，在平静的水面上荡起了一圈圈波纹。
背后随即响起了她那焦急的声音：“咬钩了，瞧，咬钩了……”
保尔慌了手脚，急忙拉起钓竿。钩上的蚯蚓打着转转，蹦出水面，带起一朵水花。
“这回还能钓个屁！真是活见鬼，跑来这么个人。”保尔恼火地想。为了掩饰自己的笨拙，他把钓钩甩到更远的水里。
钓钩落在两支牛蒡的中间，这里恰恰是不应当下钓的地方，因为鱼钩可能挂到牛蒡根上。
保尔情知钓下错了地方，他头也不回，低声埋怨起背后的姑娘来：“你瞎嚷嚷什么，把鱼都吓跑了。”
他立刻听到上面传来几句连嘲笑带挖苦的答话：“单是您这副模样，也早就把鱼吓跑了。再说，大白天能钓着鱼吗？瞧您这个渔夫，多能干！”
保尔竭力保持礼貌，可是对方未免太过分了。他站起身来，把帽子扯到前额上——这向来是他生气的表示——尽量挑选最客气的字眼，说：“小姐，您还是靠边呆着去，好不好？”
冬妮亚眯起眼睛，微微一笑，说：“难道我妨碍您吗？”
她的声音里已经没有嘲笑的味道，而是一种友好与和解的口吻了。保尔本来想对这位不知从哪里冒出来的“小姐”发作一通，现在却被解除了武装。
“也没什么，您要是愿意看，就看好了，我并不是舍不得地方给您坐。”说完，他坐了下来，重新看他的鱼漂。鱼漂紧贴着牛蒡不动，显然是鱼钩挂在根上了。保尔不敢起钓，心里嘀咕着：“钩要是挂上，就摘不下来了。这位肯定要笑话我。她要是走掉该多好！”
然而，冬妮亚却在一棵微微摇摆的弯曲的柳树上，坐得更舒适了。她把书放在膝盖上，看着这个晒得黝黑的、黑眼睛的孩子，他先是那样不客气地对待她，现在又故意不理睬她，真是个粗野的家伙。
保尔从镜子一样的水面上清楚地看到了那姑娘的倒影。
她正坐着看书，于是他悄悄地往外拉那挂住的钓丝。鱼漂在下沉，钓丝绷得紧紧的。
“真挂住了，该死的！”他心里想，一斜眼，看见水中有一张顽皮的笑脸。
水塔旁边的小桥上，有两个年轻人正朝这边走来，他们都是文科学校七年级学生。一个是机车库主任苏哈里科工程师的儿子。他是个愚蠢而又爱惹是生非的家伙，今年十七岁，浅黄头发，一脸雀斑，同学们给他起了个绰号，叫麻子舒拉。
他手里拿着一副上好的钓竿，神气活现地叼着一支香烟。和他并排走着的是维克托，一个身材匀称的娇气十足的青年。
苏哈里科侧过身子，朝维克托挤眉弄眼地说：“这个姑娘像葡萄干一样香甜，别有风味。这样的，本地再也找不出第二个。我担保她是个浪——漫——女——郎。她在基辅上学，读六年级。现在是到父亲这儿来消夏的。她父亲是本地的林务官。她跟我妹妹莉莎很熟。我给她写过一封情书，你知道，满篇都是动人的词句。我说我发狂地爱着她。战栗地期待着她的回信。我甚至选了纳德森［纳德森（１８６２—１８８７），俄国诗人。——译者］的一首诗，抄了进去。”
“结果怎么样？”维克托兴致勃勃地问。
苏哈里科有点狼狈，说：“你知道，还不是装腔作势，摆臭架子……说什么别糟蹋信纸了。不过，这种事情开头总是这一套。干这一行，我可是个老手。你知道，我才不愿意没完没了地跟在屁股后面献殷勤。晚上到工棚那儿去，花上三个卢布，就能弄到一个让你见了流口水的美人，比这要好多了。而且人家一点也不扭扭捏捏。你认得铁路上的那个工头瓦利卡·季洪诺夫吗？我们俩就去过。”
维克托轻蔑地皱起眉头，说：“舒拉，你还干这种下流勾当？”
舒拉·苏哈里科咬了咬纸烟，吐了一口唾沫，讥笑地说：“你倒像个一尘不染的正人君子，其实你干的事，我们全知道。”
维克托打断他的话，问：“那么，你能把她介绍给我吗？”
“当然可以，趁她还没走，咱们快点去。昨天早上，她自己也在这儿钓鱼来着。”
两个朋友已经到了冬妮亚跟前。苏哈里科取出嘴里的纸烟，挺有派头地鞠了一躬。
“您好，图曼诺娃小姐。怎么，您在钓鱼吗？”
“不，我在看别人钓鱼。”冬妮亚回答。
苏哈里科急忙拉着维克托的手，说：“你们两位还不认识吧？这位是我的朋友维克托·列辛斯基。”
维克托不自然地把手伸给冬妮亚。
“今天您怎么没钓鱼呢？”苏哈里科竭力想引起话头来。
“我没带钓竿。”冬妮亚回答。
“我马上再去拿一副来。”苏哈里科连忙说。“请您先用我的钓吧，我这就去拿。”
他履行了对维克托许下的诺言，介绍他跟冬妮亚认识之后，现在要设法走开，好让他们俩在一起。
“不，咱们这样会打搅别人的，这儿已经有人在钓鱼了。”冬妮亚说。
“打搅谁？”苏哈里科问。“啊，是这个小子吗？”他这时才看见坐在柳丛前面的保尔。“好办，我马上叫这小子滚蛋！”
冬妮亚还没有来得及阻止他，他已经走下坡去，到了正在钓鱼的保尔跟前。
“赶紧给我把钓竿收起来，滚蛋。”苏哈里科对保尔喊。他看见保尔还在稳稳当当地坐着钓鱼，又喊：“听见没有，快点，快点！”
保尔抬起头，毫不示弱地白了苏哈里科一眼。
“你小点声，龇牙咧嘴地嚷嚷什么？”
“什——什——么？”苏哈里科动了肝火。“你这穷光蛋，竟敢回嘴。给我滚开！”说着，狠劲朝盛蚯蚓的铁罐子踢了一脚。铁罐子在空中翻了几翻，扑通一声掉进水里，激起的水星溅到冬妮亚的脸上。
“苏哈里科，您怎么不害臊啊！”她喊了一声。
保尔跳了起来。他知道苏哈里科是机车库主任的儿子，阿尔焦姆就在他父亲手下干活。要是现在就对准这张虚胖焦黄的丑脸揍他一顿，他准要向他父亲告状，那样就一定会牵连到阿尔焦姆。正是因为这一点，保尔才克制着自己，没有立即惩罚他。
苏哈里科却以为保尔要动手打他，便扑了过去，用双手去推站在水边的保尔。保尔两手一扬，身子一晃，但是稳住了，没有跌下水去。
苏哈里科比保尔大两岁，要讲打架斗殴，惹是生非，他是第一把交椅。
保尔胸口挨了这一下，忍无可忍了。
“啊，你真动手？好吧，瞧我的！”说着，把手稍稍一扬，照苏哈里科的脸狠狠打了一拳。紧接着，没容他还手，一把紧紧抓住他的学生装，猛劲一拉，把他拖到了水里。
苏哈里科站在没膝深的水中，锃亮的皮鞋和裤子全都湿了。他拼命想挣脱保尔那铁钳般的手。保尔把他拖下水以后，就跳上岸来。
狂怒的苏哈里科跟着朝保尔扑过来，恨不得一下子把他撕碎。
保尔上岸以后，迅速转过身来，面对着扑过来的苏哈里科。这时他想起了拳击要领：“左腿支住全身，右腿运劲、微屈，不单用手臂，而且要用全身力气，从下往上，打对手的下巴。”他按照要领狠劲打了一下……
只听得两排牙齿喀哒一声撞在一起。苏哈里科感到下巴一阵剧烈疼痛，舌头也咬破了，他尖叫一声，双手在空中乱舞了几下，整个身子向后一仰，扑通一声，笨重地倒在水里。
冬妮亚在岸上忍不住哈哈大笑起来。“打得好，打得好！”她拍着手喊。“真有两下子！”
保尔抓住钓竿，使劲一拽，拉断了挂住的钓丝，跑到大路上去了。
临走的时候，他听到维克托对冬妮亚说：“这家伙是个头号流氓，叫保尔·柯察金。”
车站上变得不安宁了。从铁路沿线传来消息说，铁路工人已经开始罢工。邻近的一个火车站上，机车库工人也闹起来了。德国人抓走两名司机，怀疑他们传送宣言。德军在乡下横征暴敛，逃亡的地主又重返庄园，这两件事使那些同农村有联系的工人极为愤怒。
乌克兰伪乡警的皮鞭抽打着庄稼汉的脊背。省里的游击运动开展起来了。已经有十个左右游击队，有的是布尔什维克组织的，有的是乌克兰社会革命党人组织的。
这些天，费奥多尔·朱赫来忙得不可开交。他留在城里以后，做了大量的工作。他结识了许多铁路工人，时常参加青年人的晚会，在机车库钳工和锯木厂工人中建立了一个强有力的组织。他也试探过阿尔焦姆，问他对布尔什维克党和党的事业有什么看法，这个身强力壮的钳工回答他说：“费奥多尔，你知道，我对党派的事，弄不太清楚，但是，什么时候需要我帮忙，我一定尽力，你可以相信我。”
朱赫来对这种回答已经满意了。他知道阿尔焦姆是自己人，说到就能做到。至于入党，显然条件还不成熟。“没关系，现在这种时候，这一课很快就会补上的。”朱赫来这样想。
朱赫来已经由发电厂转到机车库干活了，这样更便于进行工作，因为他在发电厂里，很难接触到铁路上的情况。
现在铁路运输格外繁忙。德国人正用成千上万节车皮，把他们从乌克兰掠夺到的黑麦、小麦、牲畜等等，运到德国去。
乌克兰伪警备队突然从车站抓走了报务员波诺马连科。
他们把他带到队部，严刑拷打。看来，他供出了阿尔焦姆在机车库的同事罗曼·西多连科，说罗曼进行过鼓动工作。
罗曼正在干活，两个德国兵和一个伪军官前来抓他。伪军官是德军驻站长官的助手，他走到罗曼的工作台跟前，一句话也没有说，照着他的脸就是一鞭子。
“畜生，跟我们走，有话找你说！”接着，他狞笑了一声，狠劲拽了一下钳工的袖子，说：“走，到我们那儿煽动去吧！”
这时候阿尔焦姆正在旁边的钳台上干活。他扔下锉刀，像一个巨人似的逼近伪军官，强忍住涌上心头的怒火，用沙哑的声音说：“你这个坏蛋，凭什么打人！”
伪军官倒退了一步，同时伸手去解手枪的皮套。一个短腿的矮个子德国兵，也赶忙从肩上摘下插着宽刺刀的笨重步枪，哗啦一声推上了子弹。
“不准动！”他嚎叫着，只要阿尔焦姆一动，他就开枪。
高大的钳工只好眼巴巴地看着面前这个丑八怪小兵，一点办法也没有。
两个人都被抓走了。过了一个小时，阿尔焦姆总算放了回来，但是罗曼却被关进了堆放行李的地下室。
十分钟后，机车库里再没有一个人干活了。工人们聚集在车站的花园里开会。扳道工和材料库的工人也都赶来参加。
大家情绪异常激昂，有人还写了要求释放罗曼和波诺马连科的呼吁书。
那个伪军官带着一伙警备队员急忙赶到花园。他挥舞着手枪，大声叫喊：“马上干活去！要不，就把你们全都抓起来，还得枪毙几个。”
这时，群情更加激愤。
工人们愤怒的吼声吓得他溜进了站房。德军驻站长官从城里调来德国兵。他们乘着几辆卡车，沿公路飞驰而来。
工人们这才四散回家。所有的人都罢工了，连值班站长也走了。朱赫来的工作产生了效果。这是车站上的第一次群众示威。
德国兵在站台上架起了重机枪。它支在那里，活像一只随时准备扑出去的猎狗。一个德军班长蹲在旁边，手按着枪把。
车站上人都跑光了。
当天夜里，开始了大搜捕。阿尔焦姆也被抓走了。朱赫来没有在家过夜，他们没有抓到他。
抓来的人都关在一个大货仓里。德国人向他们提出了最后通牒：立即复工，否则就交野战军事法庭审判。
几乎全线的铁路工人都罢工了。这一昼夜连一列火车也没有通过。离这里一百二十公里的地方发生了战斗。一支强大的游击队切断了铁路线，炸毁了几座桥梁。
夜里有一列德国军车开进了车站。一到站，司机、副司机和司炉就都跑了。除了这列军车以外，站上还有两列火车急等着开出去。
货仓的大铁门打开了，驻站长官德军中尉带着他的助手伪军官和一群德国人走了进来。
驻站长官的助手叫道：“柯察金、波利托夫斯基、勃鲁扎克，你们三个一组，马上去开车。要是违抗——就地枪决！去不去？”
三个工人只好沮丧地点了点头。他们被押上了机车。接着，长官的助手又点了一组司机、副司机和司炉的名字，让他们去开另一列火车。
火车头愤怒地喷吐着发亮的火星，沉重地喘着气，冲破黑暗，沿着铁轨驶向夜色苍茫的远方。阿尔焦姆给炉子添好煤，一脚踢上炉门，从箱子上拿起短嘴壶喝了一口水，对司机波利托夫斯基老头说：“大叔，咱们真就这么给他们开吗？”
波利托夫斯基紧锁浓眉，生气地眨了眨眼睛。
“刺刀顶在脊梁上，那就开呗。”
“咱们扔下机车，跳车跑吧。”勃鲁扎克斜眼看了看坐在煤水车上的德国兵，建议说。
“我也这么想。”阿尔焦姆低声说。“就是这个家伙老在背后盯着，不好办。”
“是——啊！”勃鲁扎克含糊地拖长声音说，同时把头探出了车窗。
波利托夫斯基凑到阿尔焦姆跟前，低声说：“这车咱们不能开，你明白吗？那边正在打仗，起义的人炸毁了铁路，可是咱们反倒往那儿送这帮狗东西，他们一下子就会把起义的弟兄消灭掉。你知道吗，孩子，就是在沙皇时代，罢工的时候我也没出过车，现在我也不能开。送敌人去打自己人，一辈子都是耻辱。原先开这台机车的小伙子们不就跑了吗？他们虽然冒着生命危险，还是都跑了。咱们说什么也不能把车开到那地方。你说呢？”
“你说得对，大叔，可怎么对付这个家伙呢？”阿尔焦姆瞥了德国兵一眼。
司机皱紧眉头，抓起一团棉纱头，擦掉额上的汗水，用布满血丝的眼睛看了一下压力计，似乎想从那里找到这个难题的答案。接着，他怀着绝望的心情，恶狠狠地骂了一句。
阿尔焦姆又拿起茶壶，喝了一口水。他们俩都在盘算着同一件事情，但是谁也不肯先开口。这时，阿尔焦姆想起了朱赫来的话：“老弟，你对布尔什维克党和共产主义思想有什么看法？”
他记得当时是这样回答的：“随时准备尽力帮忙，你可以相信我……”
“这个忙可倒帮得好！送起讨伐队来了……”
波利托夫斯基弯腰俯在工具箱上，紧靠着阿尔焦姆，鼓起勇气说：“干掉这家伙，你懂吗？”
阿尔焦姆哆嗦了一下。波利托夫斯基把牙咬得直响，接着说：“没别的办法，咱们先给他一家伙，再把调节器、操纵杆都扔到炉子里，让车减速，跳车就跑。”
阿尔焦姆好像从肩上卸下了千斤重担，说：“好吧。”
阿尔焦姆又探过身去，靠近副司机勃鲁扎克，把这个决定告诉了他。
勃鲁扎克没有马上回答。他们这样做，要冒极大的风险，因为三个人的家眷都在城里。特别是波利托夫斯基，家里人口多，有九个人靠他养活。但是三个人都很清楚，这趟车不能再往前开了。
“那好吧，我同意。”勃鲁扎克说。“不过谁去……”他话说到半当腰，阿尔焦姆已经明白了。
阿尔焦姆转身朝在调节器旁边忙碌着的老头点了点头，表示勃鲁扎克也同意他们的意见。但是，他马上又想起了这个使他很伤脑筋的难题，便凑到波利托夫斯基跟前，说：“那咱们怎么下手呢？”
老头看了他一眼，说：“你来动手，你力气最大。用铁棍敲他一下，不就完了！”老头非常激动。
阿尔焦姆皱了皱眉头，说：“这我可不行。我下不了手。细想起来，这个当兵的并没罪，他也是给刺刀逼来的。”
波利托夫斯基瞪了他一眼，说：“你说他没罪？那么咱们也没罪，咱们也是给逼来的。可是咱们运送的是讨伐队。就是这些没罪的家伙要去杀害游击队员。难道游击队员们有罪吗？唉，你呀，你这个糊涂虫！身体壮得像只熊，就是脑袋不怎么开窍……”
“好吧。”阿尔焦姆声音嘶哑地说，一面伸手去拿铁棍。但是波利托夫斯基把他拦住了，低声说：“还是我来吧，我比你有把握。你拿铁铲到煤水车上去扒煤。必要的时候，就用铁铲给他一下子。我现在装作去砸煤块。”
勃鲁扎克点了点头，说：“对，老人家，这么办好。”说着，就站到了调节器旁边。
德国兵戴着镶红边的无檐呢帽，两腿夹着枪，坐在煤水车边上抽烟，偶尔朝机车上忙碌着的三个工人看一眼。
阿尔焦姆到煤水车上去扒煤的时候，那个德国兵并没有怎么注意他。然后，波利托夫斯基装作要从煤水车边上把大煤块扒过来，打着手势让他挪动一下，他也顺从地溜了下来，向司机室的门走去。
突然，响起了铁棍击物的短促而沉闷的声音，阿尔焦姆和勃鲁扎克像被火烧着一样，吓了一跳。德国兵的头盖骨被敲碎了，他的身子像一口袋东西一样，沉重地倒在机车和煤水车中间的过道上。
灰色的无檐呢帽马上被血染红了。步枪也当啷一声撞在车帮的铁板上。
“完了。”波利托夫斯基扔掉铁棍，小声说。他的脸抽搐了一下，又补充说：“现在咱们只能进不能退了。”
他突然止住了话音，但是立即又大声喊叫起来，打破了令人窒息的沉默：“快，把调节器拧下来！”
十分钟之后，一切都弄妥当了。没有人驾驶的机车在慢慢地减速。
铁路两旁，黑糊糊的树木阴森森地闪进机车的灯光里，随即又消失在一片黑暗之中。车灯竭力想穿透黑暗，但是却被厚密的夜幕挡住了，只能照亮十米以内的地方。机车好像耗尽了最后的力气，呼吸越来越弱了。
“跳下去，孩子！”阿尔焦姆听到波利托夫斯基在背后喊，就松开了握着的扶手。他那粗壮的身子由于惯性而向前飞去，两只脚触到了急速向后退去的地面。他跑了两步，沉重地摔倒在地上，翻了一个筋斗。
紧接着，又有两个人影从机车两侧的踏板上跳了下来。
勃鲁扎克一家都愁容满面。谢廖沙的母亲安东尼娜·瓦西里耶夫娜近四天来更是坐立不安。丈夫没有一点消息。她只知道德国人把他和柯察金、波利托夫斯基一起抓去开火车了。昨天，伪警备队的三个家伙来了，嘴里不干不净地骂着，粗暴地把她审问了一阵。
从他们的话里，她隐约地猜到出了什么事。警备队一走，这个心事重重的妇女便扎起头巾，准备到保尔的母亲玛丽亚·雅科夫列夫娜那里去，希望能打听到一点丈夫的消息。
大女儿瓦莉亚正在收拾厨房，一见母亲要出门，便问：“妈，你上哪儿去？远吗？”
安东尼娜·瓦西里耶夫娜噙着眼泪看了看女儿，说：“我到柯察金家去，也许能从他们那儿打听到你爸爸的消息。要是谢廖沙回来，就叫他到车站上波利托夫斯基家去问问。”
瓦莉亚亲热地搂着母亲的肩膀，把她送到门口，安慰她说：“妈，你别太着急。”
玛丽亚·雅科夫列夫娜像往常一样，热情地接待了安东尼娜·瓦西里耶夫娜。两位妇女都想从对方那里打听到一点消息，但是刚一交谈，就都失望了。
昨天夜里，警备队也到柯察金家进行了搜查。他们在搜捕阿尔焦姆。临走的时候，还命令玛丽亚·雅科夫列夫娜，等她儿子一回家，马上到警备队去报告。
夜里的搜查，把保尔的母亲吓坏了。当时家里只有她一个人：夜间保尔一向是在发电厂干活的。
一清早，保尔回到了家里。听母亲说警备队夜里来搜捕阿尔焦姆，他整个心都缩紧了，很为哥哥的安全担心。尽管他和哥哥性格不同，阿尔焦姆似乎很严厉，兄弟俩却十分友爱。这是一种严肃的爱，谁也没有表白过，可是保尔心里十分清楚，只要哥哥需要他，他会毫不犹豫地作出任何牺牲。
保尔没有顾得上休息，就跑到车站机车库去找朱赫来，但是没有找到；从熟识的工人那里，也没有打听到哥哥和另外两个人的任何消息。司机波利托夫斯基家的人也是什么都不知道。保尔在院子里遇到了波利托夫斯基的小儿子鲍里斯。从他那里听说，夜里警备队也到波利托夫斯基家搜查过，要抓他父亲。
保尔只好回家了，没能给母亲带回任何消息。他疲倦地往床上一倒，立即沉入了不安的梦乡。
瓦莉亚听到有人敲门，转过身来。
“谁呀？”她一边问，一边打开门钩。
门一开，她看到的是克利姆卡那一头乱蓬蓬的红头发。显然，他是跑着来的。他满脸通红，呼哧呼哧直喘。
“你妈在家吗？”他问瓦莉亚。
“不在，出去了。”
“上哪儿去了？”
“好像是上柯察金家去了。你找我妈干吗？”克利姆卡一听，转身就要跑，瓦莉亚一把抓住了他的袖子。
他迟疑不决地看了姑娘一眼，说：“你不知道，我有要紧事找她。”
“什么事？”瓦莉亚缠住小伙子不放。“跟我说吧，快点，你这个红毛熊，你倒是说呀，把人都急死了。”姑娘用命令的口气说。
克利姆卡立刻把朱赫来的嘱咐全都扔到了脑后，朱赫来反复交代过，纸条只能交给安东尼娜·瓦西里耶夫娜本人。现在他却把一张又脏又皱的纸片从衣袋里掏出来，交给了瓦莉亚。他无法拒绝谢廖沙的姐姐的要求。红头发的克利姆卡同这个浅黄头发的好姑娘打交道的时候，总是感到局促不安。自然，这个老实的小厨工连对自己也绝不会承认，他喜欢瓦莉亚。他把纸条递给瓦莉亚，瓦莉亚急忙读了起来：亲爱的安东尼娜！你放心。一切都好。我们全都平平安安的。详细情形，你很快就会知道。告诉那两家，一切顺利，用不着挂念。把这纸条烧掉。
扎哈尔瓦莉亚一念完纸条，差点要扑到克利姆卡身上去：“红毛熊，亲爱的，你从哪儿拿到的？快说，从哪儿拿来的？你这个小笨熊！”瓦莉亚使劲抓住克利姆卡，紧紧追问，弄得他手足无措，不知不觉又犯了第二个错误。
“这是朱赫来在车站上交给我的。”他说完之后，才想起这是不应该说的，就赶忙添上一句：“他可是说过，绝对不能交给别人。”
“好啦，好啦！”瓦莉亚笑着说：“我谁都不告诉。你这个小红毛，快去吧，到保尔家去。我妈也在那儿呢。”她在小厨工的背上轻轻推了两下。
转眼间，克利姆卡那长满红头发的脑袋在栅栏外消失了。
三个失踪的工人一个也没有回家。晚上，朱赫来来到柯察金家，把机车上发生的一切都告诉了玛丽亚·雅科夫列夫娜。他尽力安慰这个吓慌了的女人，说他们三个人都到了远处偏僻的乡下，住在勃鲁扎克的叔叔那里，万无一失，只是他们现在还不能回家。不过，德国人的日子已经很不好过了，时局很快就会有变化。
这件事发生以后，三家的关系更亲密了。他们总是怀着极其喜悦的心情去读那些偶尔捎回来的珍贵家信。不过男人们不在，三家都显得有些寂寞冷清。
一天，朱赫来装作是路过波利托夫斯基家，交给老太婆一些钱。
“大婶，这是大叔捎来的。您可要当心，对谁都不能说。”
老太婆非常感激地握着他的手。
“谢谢，要不然真够受的，孩子们都没吃的了。”
这些钱是从布尔加科夫留下的经费里拨出来的。
“哼，走着瞧吧。罢工虽然失败了，工人们在死刑的威胁下不得不复工，可是烈火已经烧起来，就再也扑不灭了。这三个人都是好样的，称得起无产阶级。”水兵朱赫来在离开波利托夫斯基家回机车库的路上，兴奋地这样想着。
一家墙壁被煤烟熏得乌黑的老铁匠铺，坐落在省沟村外的大路旁。波利托夫斯基正在炉子跟前，对着熊熊的煤火，微微眯起双眼，用长把钳子翻动着一块烧得通红的铁。
阿尔焦姆握着吊在横梁上的杠杆，鼓动皮风箱，在给炉子鼓风。
老司机透过他那大胡子，温厚地露出一丝笑意，对阿尔焦姆说：“眼下手艺人在乡下错不了，活有的是。只要干上一两个礼拜，说不定咱们就能给家里捎点腌肉和面粉去。孩子，庄稼人向来看重铁匠。咱们在这儿过得不会比大老板们差，嘿嘿。可扎哈尔就是另一码事了。他跟农民倒挺合得来，这回跟着他叔叔闷头种地去了。当然喽，这也难怪。阿尔焦姆，咱们爷俩是房无一间，地无一垄，全靠两只肩膀一双手，就像常言说的那样，是地道的无产阶级，嘿嘿。可扎哈尔呢，脚踩两只脚，一只脚在火车头上，一只脚在庄稼地里。”他把钳着的铁块翻动了一下，又认真地边思索边说：“孩子，咱们的事不大妙。要是不能很快把德国人撵走，咱们就得逃到叶卡捷琳诺斯拉夫或者罗斯托夫去。要不他们准会把咱们吊到半空中去，像晒鱼干一样。”
“是这么回事。”阿尔焦姆含糊地说。
“家里的人也不知道怎么样了，那帮土匪不会放过他们的吧？”
“大叔，事情闹到这个地步，家里的事只好不去想它了。”
老司机从炉子里钳出那块红里透青的铁块，迅速放到铁砧上。
“来呀，孩子，使劲锤吧！”
阿尔焦姆抓起铁砧旁边的大锤，举过头顶，使劲锤下去。
明亮的火星带着轻微的嘶嘶声，向小屋的四面飞溅，刹那间照亮了各个黑暗的角落。
随着大锤的起落，波利托夫斯基不断翻动着铁块，铁块像化软的蜡一样服帖，渐渐给打平了。
从敞开的门口吹进来阵阵温暖的夜风。
下面是一个深色的大湖；湖四周的松树不断摆动它们那强劲的头。
“这些树就像活人一样。”冬妮亚心里想。她躺在花岗石岸边一块深深凹下去的草地上。上面，在草地的背后，是一片松林；下面，就在悬崖的脚下，是湖水。环湖的峭壁，把阴影投在水上，使湖边的水格外发暗。
冬妮亚最喜欢这个地方。这里离车站有一俄里［一俄里等于１．０６公里。——译者］，过去是采石场，现在废弃了，泉水从深坑里涌出来，形成三个活水湖。冬妮亚突然听到下面湖边有击水的声音。她抬起头来，用手拨开树枝往下看，只见一个晒得黝黑的人有力地划着水，身子一屈一伸地朝湖心游去。冬妮亚可以看到他那黑里透红的后背和一头黑发。他像海象一样打着响鼻，挥臂分水前进，在水中上下左右翻滚，再不就潜入水底。后来，他终于疲倦了，就平舒两臂，身子微屈，眯缝起眼睛，遮住强烈的阳光，一动不动地仰卧在水面上。
冬妮亚放开树枝，心里觉得好笑，想：“这可不太有礼貌。”
于是又看起她的书来。
冬妮亚聚精会神地读着维克托借给她的那本书，没有注意到有人爬过草地和松林之间的岩石。只是当那人无意踩落的石子掉到她书上的时候，她才吃了一惊，抬起头来，看见保尔·柯察金站在她的眼前。这意想不到的相遇使保尔感到惊奇，也有些难为情，他想走开。
“刚才游泳的原来是他。”冬妮亚见保尔的头发还湿漉漉的，这么猜想着。
“怎么，我吓您一跳吧？我不知道您在这儿，不是有意到这儿来的。”保尔说着，伸手攀住岩石。他也认出了冬妮亚。
“您并没打搅我。如果您愿意，咱们还可以随便谈谈。”
保尔惊疑地望着冬妮亚。
“咱们有什么可谈的呢？”
冬妮亚莞尔一笑。
“您怎么老是站着？可以坐到这儿来。”冬妮亚指着一块石头说。“请您告诉我，您叫什么名字？”
“保夫卡·柯察金。”
“我叫冬妮亚。您看，咱们这不就认识了吗？”
保尔不好意思地揉着手里的帽子。
“您叫保夫卡吗？”冬妮亚打破了沉默。“为什么叫保夫卡呢？这不好听，还是叫保尔好。我以后就叫您保尔。您常到这儿……”她本来想说“来游泳吗”，但是不愿意让对方知道她方才看见他游泳了，就改口说：“……来散步吗？”
“不，不常来，有空的时候才来。”保尔回答。
“那么您在什么地方工作呢？”冬妮亚追问。
“在发电厂烧锅炉。”
“请您告诉我，您打架打得这么好，是在什么地方学的？”
冬妮亚忽然提出了这个意想不到的问题。
“我打架关您什么事？”保尔不满地咕哝了一句。
“您别见怪，柯察金。”她觉出自己提的问题引起了保尔的不满。“我对这事很感兴趣。那一拳打得可真漂亮！不过打人可不能那么毫不留情。”冬妮亚说完，哈哈大笑起来。
“怎么，您可怜他吗？”保尔问。
“哪里，我才不可怜他呢，相反，苏哈里科是罪有应得。那个场面真叫我开心。听说您常打架。”
“谁说的？”保尔警觉起来。
“维克托说的，他说您是个打架大王。”
保尔一下子变了脸色。
“啊，维克托，这个坏蛋，寄生虫。那天让他滑过去了，他得谢天谢地。我听见他说我的坏话了，不过我怕弄脏了手，才没揍他。”
“您为什么要这样骂人呢，保尔？这可不好。”冬妮亚打断了他的话。
保尔十分不痛快，心里想：“真见鬼，我干吗要跟这么个怪物闲扯呢？瞧那副神气，指手画脚的，一会儿是‘保夫卡’不好听，一会儿又是‘不要骂人’。”
“您怎么对维克托那么大的火气？”冬妮亚问。
“那个男不男、女不女的公子哥儿，没有灵魂的家伙，我看到这种人，手就发痒。仗着他有钱，以为什么事都可以干，就横行霸道。他钱多又怎么样？呸！我才不买这个帐呢。只要他碰我一下，我就要他的好看。这种人就得用拳头教训。”保尔愤愤地说。
冬妮亚后悔不该提起维克托的名字。看来，这个小伙子同那个娇生惯养的中学生是有旧仇的。于是，她就把话头转到可以平心静气地谈论的题目上，问起保尔的家庭和工作情况来。
保尔不知不觉地开始详细回答姑娘的询问，把要走的念头打消了。
“您怎么不多念几年书呢？”冬妮亚问。
“学校把我撵出来了。”
“因为什么？”
保尔脸红了。
“我在神甫家的发面上撒了点烟末。就为这个，他们把我赶了出来。那个神甫凶极了，专门给人苦头吃。”接着，保尔把事情经过都告诉了冬妮亚。
冬妮亚好奇地听着。保尔已经不再感到拘束了，他像对待老朋友一样，把哥哥没有回家的事也对冬妮亚讲了。他们亲切而又热烈地交谈着。谁也没有注意到，他们在草地上已经坐了好几个小时。最后，保尔突然想起他还有事，立刻跳了起来。
“我该去上工了。只顾说话，要误事了。我得去生火烧锅炉。达尼拉今天准得发脾气。”他不安地说。“好吧，小姐，再见。我得撒开腿，跑回城里去。”
冬妮亚也立刻站起来，穿上外衣。
“我也该走了，咱们一起走吧。”
“这可不行，我得跑，您跟我走不到一块。”
“为什么不行？咱们一起跑，比一比，看谁跑得快。”
保尔轻视地看了她一眼。
“赛跑？您能跟我比？”
“那就比比看吧。咱们先从这儿走出去。”
保尔跳过石头，又伸手帮冬妮亚跳了过去。他们一起来到林中一条通向车站的又宽又平的路上。
冬妮亚在路中央站好。
“现在开始跑：一、二、三！您追吧！”冬妮亚像旋风一样向前冲去。她那双皮鞋的后跟飞快地闪动着，蓝色外衣随风飘舞。
保尔在后面紧紧追赶。
“两步就能撵上。”他心里想。他在那飘动着的蓝外衣后面飞奔着，可是一直跑到路的尽头，离车站已经不远了，才追上她。他猛冲过去，双手紧紧抓住冬妮亚的肩膀。
“捉住了，小鸟给捉住了！”他快活地叫喊着，累得几乎喘不过气来。
“放手，怪疼的。”冬妮亚想挣脱他的手。
两个人都气喘吁吁地站着，心怦怦直跳。冬妮亚因为疯狂地奔跑，累得一点力气都没有了。她仿佛无意地稍稍倚在保尔身上，保尔感到她是那么亲近。这虽然只是一瞬间的事，但是却深深地留在记忆里了。
“过去谁也没有追上过我。”她说着，掰开了保尔的双手。
他们马上就分手了。保尔挥动帽子向冬妮亚告别，快步向城里跑去。
当保尔打开锅炉房门的时候，锅炉工达尼拉正在炉旁忙着。他生气地转过身来：“你还可以再晚一点来。怎么，我该替你生火，是不是？”
但是保尔却愉快地拍了一下师傅的肩膀，讨饶地说：“老爷子，火一下子就会生好的。”他马上动手，在柴垛旁边干起活来。
到了午夜，达尼拉躺在柴垛上，已经像马打响鼻一样，打着呼噜了。保尔爬上爬下给发动机的各个机件上好了油，用棉纱头把手擦干净，从箱子里拿出第六十二册《朱泽培·加里波第》［这是一部记述意大利资产阶级革命家加里波第（１８０７—１８８２）的传记小说。——译者］，埋头读起来。这本小说写的是那不勒斯“红衫军”的传奇领袖加里波第，他的无数冒险故事使保尔入了迷。
“她用那对秀丽的蓝眼睛瞟了公爵一眼……”
“刚好她也有一对蓝眼睛。”保尔想起了她。“她有点特殊，跟别的有钱人家的女孩子不一样，”他想。“而且跑起来跟魔鬼一样快。”
保尔沉浸在白天同冬妮亚相遇的回忆里，没有听到发动机愈来愈大的响声。机器暴躁地跳动着，飞轮在疯狂地旋转，连水泥底座也跟着剧烈颤动起来。
保尔向压力计看了一眼：指针已经越过危险信号的红线好几度了！
“哎呀，糟了！”保尔从箱子上跳了下来，冲向排气阀，赶忙扳了两下，于是锅炉房外面响起了排气管向河里排气的咝咝声。他放下排气阀，又把皮带套在开动水泵的轮子上。
保尔回头瞧瞧达尼拉，他仍然在张着大嘴酣睡，鼻子里不断发出可怕的鼾声。
半分钟后，压力计的指针又回到了正常的位置上。
冬妮亚同保尔分手之后，朝家里走去。她回忆着刚才同那个黑眼睛少年见面的情景，连她自己也没有意识到，这次相遇竟使她很高兴。
“他多么热情，多么倔强啊！他根本不像我原先想的那样粗野。至少，他完全不像那些流口水的中学生……”
他是另外一种人，来自另一个社会，这种人冬妮亚还从来没有接近过。
“可以叫他听话的，”她想。“这样的友谊一定挺有意思。”
快到家的时候，冬妮亚看见莉莎、涅莉和维克托坐在花园里。维克托在看书。看样子，他们都在等她。
冬妮亚同他们打过招呼，坐到长凳上。他们漫无边际地闲聊起来。维克托找个机会挪到冬妮亚跟前坐下，悄声问：“那本小说您看完了吗？”
“哎呀！那本小说，”冬妮亚忽然想起来了。“我把它……”她差点脱口说出，把书忘在湖边了。
“您喜欢它吗？”维克托注视着冬妮亚。
冬妮亚想了想。她用鞋尖在小径沙地上慢慢地画着一个神秘的图形，过了一会儿，才抬起头，瞥了维克托一眼，说：“不，不喜欢。我已经爱上了另外一本，比您那本有意思得多。”
“是吗？”维克托自觉无趣地拖长声音说。“作者是谁呢？”他问。
冬妮亚的两只眼睛闪着光芒，嘲弄地看了看维克托。“没有作者……”
“冬妮亚，招呼客人到屋里来坐吧，茶已经准备好了。”冬妮亚的母亲站在阳台上喊。
冬妮亚挽着两个女友的手臂，走进屋里。维克托跟在后面，苦苦思索着冬妮亚刚才说的那番话，摸不透是什么意思。
一种从来没有过的、模模糊糊的感情，已经偷偷地钻进这个年轻锅炉工的生活里。这种感情是那样新鲜，又是那样不可理解地激动人心。它使这个具有反抗性格的顽皮少年心神不宁了。
冬妮亚是林务官的女儿。而在保尔看来，林务官和律师列辛斯基是一类人。
在贫困和饥饿中长大的保尔，对待他眼中的富人，总是怀有敌意。他对自己现在产生的这种感情，也不能没有戒备和疑虑。他知道冬妮亚和石匠的女儿加莉娜不一样，加莉娜是朴实的，可以理解的，是自己人；冬妮亚则不同，他对她并不那么信任。只要这个漂亮的、受过教育的姑娘敢于嘲笑或者轻视他这个锅炉工，他随时准备给予坚决的反击。
保尔已经有一个星期没有看见林务官的女儿了。今天，他决定再到湖边去走一趟。他故意从她家路过，希望能碰上她。
他顺着花园的栅栏慢慢地走着，走到栅栏尽头，终于看见了那熟悉的水手服。他拾起栅栏旁边的一颗松球，朝着她的白衣服掷过去。冬妮亚迅速转过身来。她看见是保尔，连忙跑到栅栏跟前，快活地笑着，把手伸给他。
“您到底来了。”她高兴地说。“这么长的时间，您跑到哪儿去了？我又到湖边去过，我把书忘在那儿了。我想您一定会来的。请进，到我们花园里来吧。”
保尔摇了摇头，说：“我不进去。”
“为什么？”她惊异地扬起眉毛。
“您父亲说不定要发脾气的。您也得为我挨骂。他会问您，干吗把这个傻小子领进来。”
“您尽瞎说，保尔。”冬妮亚生气了。“快点进来吧。我爸爸决不会说什么的，等一下您就知道了。进来吧。”
她跑去开了园门，保尔犹豫不决地跟在她后面走了进去。
“您喜欢看书吗？”他们在一张桌腿埋在地里的圆桌旁边坐下来之后，冬妮亚问他。
“非常喜欢。”保尔马上来了精神。
“您读过的书里，哪一本您最喜欢？”
保尔想了一下，说：“《朱泽倍·加里波第》。”
“《朱泽培·加里波第》。”冬妮亚随即纠正他。接着又问：“您非常喜欢这部书吗？”
“非常喜欢。我已经看完六十八本了。每次领到工钱，我就买五本。加里波第可真了不起！”保尔赞赏地说。“那才是个英雄呢！我真佩服他。他同敌人打过多少仗，每回都打胜仗。所有的国家他都到过。唉！要是他现在还活着，我一定去投奔他。他把手艺人都组织起来，他总是为穷人奋斗。”
“您想看看我们的图书室吗？”冬妮亚问他，说着就拉起他的手。
“这可不行，我不到屋里去。”保尔断然拒绝了。
“您为什么这样固执呢？也许是害怕？”
保尔看了看自己那两只光着的脚，实在不干净。他挠挠后脑勺，说：“您母亲、父亲不会把我撵出来吧？”
“您别瞎说好不好？不然我可真要生气了。”冬妮亚发起脾气来。
“那好吧，不过列辛斯基家是不让我们这样的人进屋的，有话就在厨房里讲。有一回，我有事到他们家，涅莉就没让我进屋。大概是怕我弄脏地毯吧，鬼知道她是什么心思。”保尔说着，笑了起来。
“走吧，走吧。”冬妮亚抓住他的肩膀，友爱地把他推上阳台。
冬妮亚带他穿过饭厅，走进一间屋子。屋里有一个很大的柞木书橱。她打开了橱门。保尔看到书橱里整齐地排列着几百本书。他第一次看到这么丰富的藏书，有些吃惊。
“咱们马上挑一本您喜欢读的书。您得答应以后经常到我家来拿书，行吗？”
保尔高兴地点了点头，说：“我就是爱看书。”
他们友好又快活地在一起度过了几个小时。冬妮亚还把保尔介绍给自己的母亲。事情并不像原先想象的那样可怕，保尔觉得冬妮亚的母亲也挺好。
冬妮亚又领保尔到她自己的房间里，把她的书和课本拿给他看。
一个不大的梳妆台旁边立着一面小巧的镜子。冬妮亚把保尔拉到镜子跟前，笑着说：“为什么您的头发要弄得像野人一样呢？您从来不理不梳吧？”
“长得长了，剪掉就是，还叫我怎么办呢？”保尔不好意思地辩解说。
冬妮亚笑着从梳妆台上拿起梳子，很快就把他那乱蓬蓬的头发梳顺当了。
“这才像个样子，”她打量着保尔说。“头发应当理得漂亮一些，不然您就会像个野人。”
冬妮亚用挑剔的目光看了看保尔那件退了色的、灰不灰黄不黄的衬衫和破了的裤子，但是没有再说什么。
保尔觉察到了冬妮亚的目光，他为自己的穿戴感到不自在。
临别时，冬妮亚一再请保尔常到她家来玩，并和他约好过两天一起去钓鱼。
保尔不愿再穿过房间，怕碰见冬妮亚的母亲，就从窗户一下子跳进了花园。
阿尔焦姆走后，家里的生活越来越困难了，只靠保尔的工钱是不够开销的。
玛丽亚·雅科夫列夫娜决定同保尔商量一下，看她要不要出去找点活做，恰好列辛斯基家要雇用一个厨娘。可是保尔坚决不同意。
“不行，妈。我可以再找一份活干。锯木厂正要雇人搬木板。我到那儿去干半天，就够咱俩花的了。你别出去干活。要不，阿尔焦姆该生我的气了，他准得埋怨我，说我不想办法，还让妈去受累。”
母亲向他说明一定要出去做工的道理，但是保尔执意不肯，母亲也就只好作罢。
第二天，保尔就到锯木厂去做工了。他的工作是把新锯出的木板分散放好，晾干。他在那里遇到了两个熟人，一个是老同学米什卡·列夫丘科夫，另一个是瓦尼亚·库利绍夫。
保尔同米什卡一起干计件活，收入相当不坏。他白天在锯木厂做工，晚上再到发电厂去。
过了十天，保尔领回了工钱。他把钱交给母亲的时候，不好意思地踌躇了一会儿，终于请求说：“妈，给我买件布衬衫吧，蓝的，就像去年穿的那件一样，你还记得吗？用一半工钱就够了。往后我再去挣，你别担心。
你看，我身上这件太旧了。”保尔这样解释着，好像很过意不去似的。
“是啊，保夫鲁沙，是得买了。我今天去买布，明天就给你做上。可不是，你连一件新衬衫都没有。”她疼爱地瞧着儿子说。
保尔在理发馆门口站住了。他摸了摸衣袋里的一个卢布，走了进去。
理发师是个机灵的小伙子，看见有人进来，就习惯地朝椅子点了点头，说：“请坐。”
保尔坐到一张宽大舒适的椅子上，从镜子里看见了自己那副慌张不安的面孔。
“理分头吗？”理发师问。
“是的。啊，不。我是说，这么大致剪一剪就行。你们管这个叫什么来着？”保尔说不明白，只好做了一个无可奈何的手势。
“明白了。”理发师笑了。
一刻钟以后，保尔满身大汗，狼狈不堪地走出理发馆，但是头发总算理得整整齐齐的了。他那一头蓬乱的头发叫理发师花了不少工夫，最后，水和梳子终于把它制服了。现在头发变得服服帖帖的了。
保尔在街上轻松地舒了一口气，把帽子拉低一些。
“妈看见了，会说什么呢？”
保尔没有如约去钓鱼，冬妮亚很不高兴。
“这个小火夫不怎么体贴人。”她恼恨地想。但是保尔一连好几天没有露面，她却又开始感到寂寞无聊了。
这天她正要出去散步，母亲推开她的房门，说：“冬妮亚，有客人找你。让他进来吗？”
门口站的是保尔，冬妮亚一开始简直认不出他来了。
他穿着一身新衣服，蓝衬衫，黑裤子，皮靴也擦得亮亮的。再有，冬妮亚一眼就看到，他理了发，头发不再是乱蓬蓬的了。一句话，这个黑黝黝的小火夫已经完全变了样。
冬妮亚本想说几句表示惊讶的话，但是看到他已经有些发窘，不愿意再让他难堪，就装出一副完全没有注意到他的变化的样子，只是责备他说：“您不觉得不好意思吗？怎么没来找我去钓鱼呢？您就是这样守信用的吗？”
“这些天我一直在锯木厂干活，脱不开身。”
他没好意思说，为了买这件衬衫和这条裤子，这些天干活累得几乎直不起腰来。
但是冬妮亚已经猜到了这一点，她对保尔的恼怒顷刻烟消云散了。
“走，咱们到池边去散步吧！”她提议说。他们穿过花园，上了大路。
保尔已经把冬妮亚当作自己的好朋友，把那件最大的秘密——从德国中尉那里偷了一支手枪的事，也告诉了她。他还约她过几天一起到树林深处去放枪。
“你要当心，别把我的秘密泄漏了。”保尔不知不觉把“您”改成了“你”。
“我决不把你的秘密告诉任何人。”冬妮亚庄严地保证说。
收听单词发音 |
1
pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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pedantic
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| adj.卖弄学问的；迂腐的 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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alders
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| n.桤木( alder的名词复数 ) | |
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quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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chestnut
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| n.栗树，栗子 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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interfering
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| adj. 妨碍的 动词interfere的现在分词 | |
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disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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grudgingly
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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taut
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| adj.拉紧的，绷紧的，紧张的 | |
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loutish
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| adj.粗鲁的 | |
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winking
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| n.瞬眼，目语v.使眼色( wink的现在分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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vein
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| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
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trepidation
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| n.惊恐，惶恐 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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spat
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| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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boded
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| v.预示，预告，预言( bode的过去式和过去分词 )；等待，停留( bide的过去分词 )；居住；（过去式用bided）等待 | |
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spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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troublemaker
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| n.惹是生非者，闹事者，捣乱者 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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44
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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47
squealing
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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48
flailed
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| v.鞭打( flail的过去式和过去分词 )；用连枷脱粒；（臂或腿）无法控制地乱动；扫雷坦克 | |
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49
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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50
brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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51
rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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52
ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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53
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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54
partisan
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| adj.党派性的；游击队的；n.游击队员；党徒 | |
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55
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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56
gatherings
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| 聚集( gathering的名词复数 )； 收集； 采集； 搜集 | |
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57
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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58
brutally
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| adv.残忍地，野蛮地，冷酷无情地 | |
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59
itch
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| n.痒，渴望，疥癣；vi.发痒，渴望 | |
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60
wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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61
agitating
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| 搅动( agitate的现在分词 )； 激怒； 使焦虑不安； （尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而）激烈争论 | |
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62
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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63
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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64
bastard
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| n.坏蛋，混蛋；私生子 | |
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65
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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66
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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67
brawny
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| adj.强壮的 | |
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68
puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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69
warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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70
brandishing
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| v.挥舞( brandish的现在分词 )；炫耀 | |
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71
bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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72
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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73
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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74
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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75
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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76
herded
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| 群集，纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 )； 放牧； （使）向…移动 | |
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77
lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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78
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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79
shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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80
shovelled
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| v.铲子( shovel的过去式和过去分词 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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81
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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82
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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83
gauge
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| v.精确计量；估计；n.标准度量；计量器 | |
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84
tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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85
punitive
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| adj.惩罚的，刑罚的 | |
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86
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
throttle
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| n.节流阀，节气阀，喉咙；v.扼喉咙，使窒息，压 | |
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88
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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89
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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90
partisans
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| 游击队员( partisan的名词复数 )； 党人； 党羽； 帮伙 | |
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91
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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92
forage
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| n.(牛马的)饲料，粮草；v.搜寻，翻寻 | |
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93
sentry
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| n.哨兵，警卫 | |
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94
chunks
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| 厚厚的一块( chunk的名词复数 )； （某物）相当大的数量或部分 | |
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95
crunch
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| n.关键时刻；艰难局面；v.发出碎裂声 | |
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96
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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97
seeped
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的过去式和过去分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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98
clattered
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| 发出咔哒声（clatter的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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99
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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100
repel
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| v.击退，抵制，拒绝，排斥 | |
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101
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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102
ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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103
radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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104
recede
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| vi.退(去)，渐渐远去；向后倾斜，缩进 | |
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105
shroud
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| n.裹尸布，寿衣；罩，幕；vt.覆盖，隐藏 | |
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106
stertorous
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| adj.打鼾的 | |
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107
momentum
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| n.动力，冲力，势头；动量 | |
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108
jolt
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| v.（使）摇动，（使）震动，（使）颠簸 | |
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109
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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110
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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111
eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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112
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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113
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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114
slumber
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| n.睡眠，沉睡状态 | |
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115
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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116
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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117
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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118
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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119
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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120
kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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122
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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123
tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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124
bellows
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| n.风箱；发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的名词复数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的第三人称单数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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125
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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126
nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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127
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
dexterous
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| adj.灵敏的；灵巧的 | |
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129
anvil
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| n.铁钻 | |
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130
ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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131
spurted
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| （液体，火焰等）喷出，（使）涌出( spurt的过去式和过去分词 )； （短暂地）加速前进，冲刺 | |
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132
spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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133
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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134
slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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135
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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136
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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137
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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138
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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139
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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140
walrus
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| n.海象 | |
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141
squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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142
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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143
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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144
skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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145
blurted
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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146
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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147
pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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148
scrapper
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| 好打架的人，拳击手； 爱吵架的人 | |
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149
bristled
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| adj. 直立的，多刺毛的 动词bristle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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150
guts
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| v.狼吞虎咽，贪婪地吃，飞碟游戏（比赛双方每组5人，相距15码，互相掷接飞碟）；毁坏（建筑物等）的内部( gut的第三人称单数 )；取出…的内脏n.勇气( gut的名词复数 )；内脏；消化道的下段；肠 | |
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151
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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152
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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153
dough
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| n.生面团；钱，现款 | |
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154
boilers
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| 锅炉，烧水器，水壶( boiler的名词复数 ) | |
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155
boiler
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| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
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156
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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157
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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158
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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159
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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160
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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161
placatingly
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162
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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163
legendary
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| adj.传奇（中）的，闻名遐迩的；n.传奇（文学） | |
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164
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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165
grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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166
rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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167
tinged
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| v.（使）发丁丁声( ting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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168
apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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169
misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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170
condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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171
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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172
cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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173
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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174
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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175
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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176
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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177
expedient
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| adj.有用的，有利的；n.紧急的办法，权宜之计 | |
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178
adamant
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| adj.坚硬的，固执的 | |
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179
earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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180
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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181
flustered
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| adj.慌张的；激动不安的v.使慌乱，使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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182
perspiring
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| v.出汗，流汗( perspire的现在分词 ) | |
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183
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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185
annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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186
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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187
exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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188
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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189
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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190
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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