rough-hewn oak post planted firmly in the ground. The two poles stand six paces apart on level ground, yet there is a deep gulf8 between them and the two worlds they stand for. To try to cross this no man's land means risking one's life.
This is the frontier.
From the Black Sea over thousands of kilometres to the Arctic Ocean in the Far North stands the motionless line of these silent sentinels of the Soviet10 Socialist11 Republics bearing the great emblem of labour on their iron shields. The post with the rapacious12 bird marks the beginning of the border between Soviet Ukraine and bourgeois13 Poland. It stands ten kilometres from the small town of Berezdov tucked away in the Ukrainian hinterland, and opposite it is the Polish townlet of Korets.
From Slavuta to Anapol the border area is guarded by a Frontier Guard battalion14.
The frontier posts march across the snowbound fields, push through clearings cut in forests, plunge15 down valleys and, heaving themselves up hillsides, disappear behind the crests16 only to pause on the high bank of a river to survey the wintry plains of an alien land.
It is biting cold, one of those days when the frost makes the snow crunch17 under the soles of felt boots. A giant of a Red Army man in a helmet fit for the titans of old moves away from a post with the sickle-and-hammer shield and with heavy tread sets out on his beat. He is wearing a grey greatcoat with green tabs on the collar, and felt boots. On top of the greatcoat he has a sheepskin coat reaching down to his heels with a collar of generous proportions to match — a coat that will keep a man warm in the cruellest blizzard18. On his head he wears a cloth helmet and his hands are encased in sheepskin mittens20. His rifle is slung21 on his shoulder, and as he proceeds along the sentry22 path, the tail of his long coat wearing a groove23 in the snow, he pulls at a cigarette of homegrown tobacco with obvious relish24. On open stretches the Soviet border guards are posted a kilometre apart so that each man can always see his neighbour. On the Polish side there are two sentries25 to the kilometre.
A Polish infantryman plods26 along his sentry path toward the Red Army man. He is wearing rough army issue boots, a greenish grey uniform and on top a black coat with two rows of shining buttons. On his head he has the square-topped uniform cap with the white eagle emblem; there are more white eagles on his cloth shoulder straps28 and the collar tabs, but they do not make him feel any warmer. The frost has chilled him to the marrow29, and he rubs his numb30 ears and knocks his heels together as he walks, while his hands in the thin gloves are stiff with cold. The Pole cannot risk stopping his pacing for a moment, and sometimes he trots31, for otherwise the frost would
stiffen33 his joints34 in a moment. When the two sentries draw together, the zolnierz turns around to walk alongside the Red Army man.
Conversation on the frontier is forbidden, but when there is no one around within a kilometre — who can tell whether the two are patrolling their sectors36 in silence or violating international laws. The Pole wants a smoke very badly, but he has forgotten his matches in the barracks, and the breeze wafts37 over from the Soviet side the tantalising fragrance38 of tobacco. The Pole stops rubbing his ear and glances back over his shoulder, for who knows when the captain, or maybe Pan the lieutenant39, might pop up from behind a knoll40 with a mounted patrol on one of their eternal inspection41 rounds. But he sees nothing save the dazzling whiteness of the snow in the sun. In the sky there is not so much as a fleck42 of a cloud.
"Got a light, Comrade?" The Pole is the first to violate the sanctity of the law. And shifting his French magazine rifle with the sword bayonet back on his shoulder he laboriously43 extracts with stiff fingers a packet of cheap cigarettes from the depths of his coat pocket,The Red Army man hears him, but the frontier service regulations forbid conversation across the border. Besides, he could not quite catch what the soldier wanted to say. So he continues on his way, firmly treading down on the crunching45 snow with his warm, soft felt boots.
"Comrade Bolshevik, got a light? Maybe you'll throw a box of matches across?" This time the Pole speaks Russian.
The Red Army man looks closely at his neighbour. "The frost has nipped the Pan good and proper," he says to himself. "The poor beggar may be a bourgeois soldier but he's got a dog's life.
Imagine being chased out into this cold in that miserable46 outfit47, no wonder he jumps about like a rabbit, and without smoke either." Not turning around, the Red Army man throws a box of matches across to the other. The soldier catches it on the fly, and getting his cigarette going after several unsuccessful attempts, promptly48 sends the box back across the border.
"Keep it. I've got some more," says the Red frontier guard, forgetting the rules.
From beyond the frontier comes the response:
"Thanks, I'd better not. If they found that box on me I'd get a couple of years in jail."
The Red Army man examines the match box. On the label is an airplane with a sinewy49 fist instead of a propeller50 and the word "Ultimatum51".
"Right enough, it won't do for them."
The soldier continues to walk, keeping pace with the Red Army man. He does not like to be alone in the midst of this deserted53 field.
The saddles creaked rhythmically54 as the horses trotted55 along at an even, soothing56 pace, their breath congealing57 into momentary58 plumes59 of white vapour in the frosty air. A hoary60 rime61 stood out around the nostrils62 of the black stallion. Stepping gracefully63, her fine neck arched, the Battalion Commander's dappled mare64 was playing with her bit. Both horsemen wore army greatcoats belted in at the waist and with three red squares on the sleeves; the only difference was that Battalion Commander Gavrilov's collar tabs were green, while his companion's were red.
Gavrilov was with the Frontier Guards; it was his battalion that manned the frontier posts on this seventy-kilometre stretch, he was the man in charge of this frontier belt. His companion was a visitor from Berezdov — Battalion Commissar Korchagin of the universal military training system.
It had snowed during the night and now the snow lay white and fluffy65, untouched by either man or beast. The two men cantered out from the woods and were about to cross an open stretch some forty paces from border posts when Gavrilov suddenly reined66 in his horse. Korchagin wheeled around to see Gavrilov leaning over from his saddle and inspecting a curious trail in the snow that looked as if someone had been running a tiny cogwheel over the surface. Some cunning little beast had passed here leaving behind the intricate, confusing pattern. It was hard to make out which way the creature had been travelling, but it was not this that caused the Battalion Commander to halt.
Two paces away lay another trail under a powdery sprinkling of snow — the footsteps of a man.There was nothing uncertain about these footprints — they led straight toward the woods, and there was not the slightest doubt that the intruder had come from the Polish side. The Battalion Commander urged on his horse and followed the tracks to the sentry path. The footprints showed distinctly for a dozen paces or so on the Polish side.
"Somebody crossed the border last night," muttered the Battalion Commander. "The third platoon has been napping again — no mention of it in the morning report!" Gavrilov's greying moustache silvered by his congealed68 breath hung grimly over his lip.
In the distance two figures were approaching — one a slight man garbed69 in black and with the blade of a French bayonet gleaming in the sun, the other a giant in a yellow sheepskin coat. The dappled mare responded to a jab in her flanks and briskly the two riders bore down on the approaching pair. As they came, the Red Army man hitched70 up the rifle on his shoulder and spat71 out the butt27 of his cigarette into the snow.
"Hullo, Comrade. How's everything on your sector35?" The Battalion Commander stretched out his hand to the Red Army man, who hurriedly removed a mitt19 to return the handclasp. So tall was the frontier guard that the Commander hardly had to bend forward in his saddle to reach him.
The Pole looked on from a distance. Here were two Red officers greeting a soldier as they would a close friend. For a moment he pictured himself shaking hands with Major Zakrzewski, but the very thought was so shocking that he glanced furtively72 over his shoulder.
"Just look over, Comrade Battalion Commander," reported the Red Army man.
"Seen the track over there?"
"No, not yet."
"Who was on duty here from two to six at night?"
"Surotenko, Comrade Battalion Commander."
"All right, but keep your eyes open."
As the Commander was about to ride on he added a stern word of warning:
"And you'd better keep away from those fellows."
"You have to keep your eyes open on the border," the Commander said to his companion as their horses cantered along the broad road leading from the frontier to Berezdov. "The slightest slip can cost you dearly. Can't afford to take a nap on a job like ours. In broad daylight it's not so easy to skip the border, but at night we've got to be on the alert. Now judge for yourself, Comrade Korchagin. On my sector the frontier cuts right through four villages, which complicates73 things considerably74. No matter how close you place your guards you'll find all the relatives from the one side of the line attending every wedding or feast held on the other. And no wonder — it's only a couple of dozen paces from cottage to cottage and the creek's shallow enough for a chicken to wade75 across. And there's some smuggling76 being done, too. True, much of it on a petty scale — an old woman carting across a bottle or two of Polish vodka and that sort of thing. But there is quite a bit of large-scale contraband77 traffic — people with big money to operate with. Have you heard that the Poles have opened shops in all the border villages where you can get practically everything you want? Those shops aren't intended for their own pauperised peasants, you may be sure."
As he listened to the Battalion Commander, Korchagin reflected that life on the border must resemble an endless scouting78 mission.
"Probably there's something more serious than smuggling going on. What do you say, Comrade Gavrilov?"
"That's just the trouble," the Battalion Commander replied gloomily.
Berezdov was a small backwoods town that had been within the Jewish pale of residence. It had two or three hundred small houses scattered80 haphazardly81, and a huge market square with a couple of dozen shops in the middle. The square was filthy82 with manure83. Around the town proper were the peasant huts. In the Jewish central section, on the road to the slaughter84 house, stood an old synagogue — a rickety, depressing building. Although the synagogue still drew crowds on Saturdays, its heyday86 had gone, and the rabbi lived a life that was by no means to his liking87. What happened in 1917 must have been evil indeed if even in this Godforsaken corner the youngsters no
longer accorded him the respect due his position. True, the old folk would still eat only kosher food, but how many of the youngsters indulged in the pork sausage which God had cursed. The very thought was revolting! And Rabbi Borukh in a fit of temper kicked viciously at a pig that was assiduously digging in a heap of manure in search of something edible88. The rabbi was not at all pleased that Berezdov had been made a district centre, nor did he approve of these Communists who had descended89 on the place from the devil knows where and were now turning things upside down. Each day brought some fresh unpleasantness. Yesterday, for instance, he had seen a new
sign over the gate of the priest's house: "Berezdov District Committee, Young Communist League of the Ukraine," it had read.
To expect this sign to augur90 anything but ill would be useless, mused91 the rabbi. So engrossed92 was he in his thoughts that he did not notice the small announcement pasted on the door of his synagogue before he actually bumped into it.
A public meeting of working youth will be held today at the club. The speakers will be Lisitsyn, Chairman of the Executive Committee, and Korchagin, Acting93 Secretary of the Komsomol District Committee. After the meeting a concert will be given by the pupils of the nine-year school.
In a fury the rabbi tore down the sheet of paper. The struggle had begun.
In the centre of a large garden adjoining the local church stood an old house that had once belonged to the priest. A deadly air of boredom94 filled the musty emptiness of the rooms in which the priest and his wife had lived, two people as old and as dull as the house itself and long bored with one another. The dreariness95 was swept away as soon as the new masters of the place moved in. The big hall in which the former pious96 residents had entertained guests only on church holidays was now always full of people, for the house was the headquarters of the Berezdov Communist Party Committee. On the door leading into a small room to the right just inside the front hall the words "Komsomol District Committee" had been written in chalk. Here Korchagin spent part of his working day. Besides being Military Commissar of the Second Universal Military Training Battalion he was also Acting Secretary of the newly-organised Komsomol District Committee.
Eight months had passed since that gathering98 at Anna's, yet it seemed that it had been only yesterday. Korchagin pushed the stack of papers aside, and leaning back in his chair gave himself up to his thoughts. ...
The house was still. It was late at night and the Party Committee office was deserted. Trofimov, the Committee's Secretary, had gone home some time ago, leaving Korchagin alone in the building. Frost had woven a fantastic pattern on the window, but the room was warm. A paraffin lamp was burning on the table. Korchagin recalled the recent past. He remembered how in August the shop Komsomol organisation99 had sent him as a youth organiser with a repair train to Yekaterinoslav. Until late autumn he had travelled with the train's crew of a hundred and fifty from station to station bringing order into the chaotic100 aftermath of war, repairing damage and clearing away the remnants of smashed and burnt-out railway carriages. Their route took them from Sinelnikovo to Polog, through country where the bandit Makhno had once operated leaving behind him a trail of wreckage101 and wanton destruction. In Gulyai-Polye a whole week went into repairing the brick structure of the water tower and patching the sides of the dynamited102 water tank with iron sheets. Though lacking the skill of a fitter and unaccustomed to the heavy work, Pavel wielded103 a wrench104 along with the others and tightened105 more thousands of rusty106 bolts than he could remember.
Late in the autumn the train returned home and the railway shops again were the richer for a hundred and fifty pairs of hands. . . .
Pavel was now a more frequent visitor at Anna's place. The crease107 on his forehead smoothed out and his infectious laughter could again be heard.
Once again the grimy-faced fraternity from the railway shops gathered to hear him talk of bygone years of struggle, of the attempts made by rebellious108 but enslaved peasant Russia to overthrow109 the crowned monster that sat heavily on her shoulders, of the insurrections of Stepan Razin and Pugachov.
One evening at Anna's, when even more young people than usual had gathered there, Pavel announced that he was going to give up smoking, which unhealthy habit he had acquired at an early age.
"I'm not smoking any more," he declared firmly.
It all came about unexpectedly. One of the young people present had said that habit — smoking, for instance — was stronger than will power. Opinions were divided. At first Pavel said nothing, but drawn110 in by Talya, he finally joined the debate.
"Man governs his habits, and not the other way round. Otherwise what would we get?"
"Sounds fine, doesn't it?" Tsvetayev put in from his corner. "Korchagin likes to talk big. But why doesn't he apply his wisdom to himself? He smokes, doesn't he? He knows it's a rotten habit. Of course he does. But he isn't man enough to drop it." Then, changing his tone, Tsvetayev went on with a cold sneer111: "He was busy 'spreading culture' in the study circles not so long ago. But did this prevent him from using foul112 language? Anyone who knows Pavel will tell you that he doesn't swear very often, but when he does he certainly lets himself go. It's much easier to lecture others than to be virtuous113 yourself."
There was a strained silence. The sharpness of Tsvetayev's tone had laid a chill on the gathering.
Korchagin did not reply at once. Slowly he removed the cigarette from between his lips and said quietly:
"I'm not smoking any more."
Then, after a pause, he added:
"I'm doing this more for myself than for Dimka. A man who can't break himself of a bad habit isn't worth anything. That leaves only the swearing to be taken care of. I know I haven't quite overcome that shameful114 habit, but even Dimka admits that he doesn't hear me curse very often. It's harder to stop a foul word from slipping out than to stop smoking, so I can't say at the moment that I've finished with that too. But I will."
Just before the frosts set in, rafts of firewood drifting down the river jammed the channel. Then the autumn floods broke them up and the much-needed fuel was swept away by the rushing waters. And again Solomenka sent its people to the rescue, this time to save the precious wood.
Unwilling115 to drop behind the others, Korchagin concealed116 the fact that he had caught a bad chill until a week later, when the wood had been piled high on shore. The icy water and the chill dankness of autumn had awakened117 the enemy lurking118 in his blood and he came down with a high fever. For two weeks acute rheumatism119 racked his body, and when he returned from hospital, he was able to work at the vice44 only by straddling the bench. The foreman would look at him and shake his head sadly. A few days later a medical board declared him unfit for work and he was given his discharge pay and papers certifying120 his right to a pension. This, however, he indignantly refused to accept.
With a heavy heart he left the shops. He moved about slowly, leaning on his stick, but every step caused excruciating pain. There were several letters from his mother asking him to come home for a visit, and each time he thought of her, her parting words came back to his mind: "I never see you unless you're crippled!"
At the Gubernia Committee he was handed his Komsomol and Party registration122 cards and, with as few leave-takings as possible, he left town bound for home. For two weeks his mother steamed and massaged123 his swollen125 legs, and a month later to his great joy he was able to walk without the cane126. Once again sunlight pierced the gloom. Before long he was back in the gubernia centre; three days there and the Organisational Department sent him to the regional military commissariat to be used as a political worker in a military training unit.
Another week passed and Pavel arrived in a small snowbound town as Military Commissar assigned to Battalion Two. The Regional Committee of the Komsomol too gave him an
assignment: to rally the scattered Komsomol members in the locality and set up a youth league organisation in the district. Thus life got into a new stride.
Outside it was stifling127 hot. The branch of a cherry-tree peeped in through the open window of the Executive Committee Chairman's office. Across the way the gilded128 cross atop the gothic belfry of the Polish church blazed in the sun. And in the yard in front of the window tiny downy goslings as green as the grass around — the property of the caretaker of the Executive Committee premises129 — were busily searching for food.
The Chairman of the Executive Committee read the dispatch he had just received to the end. A shadow flitted across his face, and a huge gnarled hand strayed into his luxurious130 crop of hair and paused there.
Nikolai Nikolayevich Lisitsyn, the Chairman of the Berezdov Executive Committee, was only twenty-four, but none of the members of his staff and the local Party workers would have believed it. A big, strong man, stern and often formidable in appearance, he looked at least thirty-five. He had a powerful physique, a big head firmly planted on a thick neck, piercing brown eyes, and a strong, energetic jaw131. He wore blue breeches and a grey tunic132, somewhat the worse for wear, with the Order of the Red Banner over the left breast pocket.
Like his father and grandfather before him Lisitsyn had been a metalworker almost from childhood, and before the October Revolution he had "commanded" a lathe133 at a Tula munitions134 plant.
Beginning with that autumn night when the Tula gunsmith shouldered a rifle and went out to fight for the workers' power, he had been caught up in the whirlwind of events. The Revolution and the Party sent Lisitsyn from one tight spot to another along a glorious path that witnessed his rise from rank-and-file Red Army man to regimental commander and commissar.
The fire of battle and the thunder of guns had receded136 into the past. Nikolai Lisitsyn was now working in a frontier district. Life went on at a quiet measured pace, and the Executive Committee Chairman sat in his office until late night after night poring over harvest reports. The dispatch he was now studying, however, momentarily revived the recent past. It was a warning couched in terse137 telegraphic language:
"Strictly138 confidential139. To Lisitsyn, Chairman of the Berezdov Executive Committee.
"Marked activity has been observed latterly on the border where the Poles have been trying to send across a large band to terrorise the frontier districts. Take precautions. Suggest everything valuable at the Finance Department, including collected taxes, be transferred to area centre."
From his window Lisitsyn could see everyone who entered the District Executive Committee building. Looking up he caught sight of Pavel Korchagin on the steps. A moment later there was a knock on the door.
"Sit down, I've got something to tell you," Lisitsyn said, returning Pavel's handshake.
For a whole hour the two were closeted in the office.
By the time Korchagin emerged from the office it was noon. As he stepped out, Lisitsyn's little sister, Anyutka, a timid child far too serious for her years, ran toward him from the garden. She always had a warm smile for Korchagin and now too she greeted him shyly, tossing a stray lock of her cropped hair back from her forehead.
"Is Kolya busy?" she asked. "Maria Mikhailovna has had his dinner ready for a long time."
"Go right in, Anyutka, he's alone."
Long before dawn the next morning three carts harnessed to well-fed horses pulled up in front of the Executive Committee. The men who came with them exchanged a few words in undertones,and several sealed sacks were then carried out of the Finance Department. These were loaded into the carts and a few minutes later the rumble140 of wheels receded down the highway. The carts were convoyed by a detail under Korchagin's command. The forty-kilometre journey to the regional centre (twenty-five of them through forests) was made without mishap141 and the valuables safely deposited in the vaults142 of the Regional Finance Department.
Some days later a cavalryman143 galloped146 into Berezdov from the direction of the frontier. As he passed through the streets he was followed by the wondering stares of the local idlers.
At the gates of the Executive Committee the rider leapt to the ground, and, supporting his sabre with one hand, stamped up the front stairs in his heavy boots. Lisitsyn took the packet with a worried frown. A few minutes later, the messenger was galloping147 back in the direction whence he had come.
No one but the Chairman of the Executive Committee knew the contents of the dispatch. But such news had a way of getting round, especially among the local shopkeepers many of whom were smugglers in a small way and had almost an instinct for sensing danger.
Two men walked briskly along the pavement leading to the headquarters of the Military Training Battalion. One of them was Pavel Korchagin. Him the watchers knew; he always carried a gun.
But the fact that his companion, the Party Committee Secretary Trofimov, had strapped148 on a revolver looked ominous149.
Several minutes later a dozen men ran out of the headquarters carrying rifles with bayonets fixed150 and marched briskly to the mill standing at the crossroads. The rest of the local Communist Party and Komsomol members were being issued arms at the Party Committee offices. The Chairman of the Executive Committee galloped past, wearing a Cossack cap and the customary Mauser.
Something was obviously afoot. The main square and sidestreets grew deserted. Not a soul was in sight. In a flash huge medieval padlocks appeared on the doors of the tiny shops and shutters151 boarded windows. Only the fearless hens and hogs152 continued to rummage154 among piles of refuse.
The pickets155 took cover in the gardens at the edge of the town where they had a good view of the open fields and the straight road reaching into the distance.
The dispatch received by Lisitsyn had been brief:
"A mounted band of about one hundred men with two light machine-guns broke through to Soviet territory after a fight in the area of Poddubtsy last night. Take precautionary measures. The trail of the band has been lost in the Slavuta woods. A Red Cossack company has been sent in pursuit of the band. The company will pass through Berezdov during the day. Do not mistake them for the enemy. Gavrilov, Commander, Detached Frontier Battalion.
No more than an hour had passed when a rider appeared on the road leading to the town, followed by a group of horsemen moving about a kilometre behind. Korchagin's keen eyes followed their movements. The lone52 rider was a young Red Army man from the Seventh Red Cossack Regiment135, a novice156 at reconnaissance, and hence, though he picked his way cautiously enough, he failed to spot the pickets ambushed158 in the roadside gardens. Before he knew it he was surrounded by armed men who poured onto the road from the greenery, and when he saw the Komsomol emblem on their tunics159, he smiled sheepishly. After a brief confab, he turned his horse around and galloped back to the mounted force now coming up at a trot32. The pickets let the Red Cossacks through and resumed their watch in the gardens.
Several anxious days passed before Lisitsyn received word that the raid had failed. Pursued by the Red cavalry144, the riders had had to beat a hasty retreat across the frontier.
A handful of Bolsheviks, numbering nineteen in all, applied160 themselves energetically to the job of building up Soviet life in the district. This was a new dministrative unit and hence everything had to be created from bottom up. Besides, the proximity161 of the border called for unflagging vigilance.
Lisitsyn, Trofimov, Korchagin and the small group of active workers they had rallied toiled163 from dawn till dusk arranging for re-elections of Soviets164, fighting the bandits, organising cultural work, putting down smuggling, in addition to Party and Komsomol work to strengthen defence.
From saddle to desk, and from desk to the common where squads165 of young military trainees166 diligently167 drilled, then the club and the school and two or three committee meetings — such was the daily round of the Military Commissar of Battalion Two. Often enough his nights were spent on horseback, Mauser at his side, nights whose stillness was broken by a sharp "Halt, who goes there?" and the pounding of the wheels of a fleeing cart laden168 with smuggled169 goods from beyond the border.
The Berezdov District Committee of the Komsomol consisted of Korchagin, Lida Polevykh, a girl from the Volga who headed the Women's Department, and Zhenka Razvalikhin, a tall, handsome young man who had been a Gymnasium student only a short time before. Razvalikhin had a weakness for thrilling adventures and was an authority on Sherlock Holmes and Louis Boussenard. Previously170 he had been office manager for the District Committee of the Party, and though he had joined the Komsomol only four months before, posed as an "old Bolshevik".
Someone was needed in Berezdov to take charge of political education work, and since there was no one else to send, the Regional Committee, after some hesitation171, had chosen Razvalikhin.
The sun had reached its zenith. The heat penetrated172 everywhere and all living creatures sought refuge in the shade. Even the dogs crawled under sheds and lay there panting, inert173 and sleepy.
The only sign of life in the village was a hog153 revelling174 in a puddle175 of mud next to the well. Korchagin untethered his horse, and biting his lip from the pain in his knee, climbed into the saddle. The teacher was standing on the steps of the schoolhouse shading her eyes from the sun with the palm of her hand.
"I hope to see you soon again, Comrade Military Commissar," she smiled.
The horse stamped impatiently, stretched its neck and pulled at the reins176.
"Good-bye, Comrade Rakitina. So it's settled: you'll give the first lesson tomorrow."
Feeling the pressure of the bit relax, the horse was off at a brisk trot. Suddenly wild cries reached Pavel's ears. It sounded like the shrieking177 of women when villages catch fire. Wheeling his mount sharply around, the Military Commissar saw a young peasant woman running breathlessly into the village. Rakitina rushed forward and stopped her. From the nearby cottages the inhabitants looked out, mostly old men and women, for all the able-bodied peasants were working in the fields.
"0-o-oh! Good people! Come quickly! Come quickly! They're a-murdering each other over there!"
When Korchagin galloped up people were crowding around the woman, pulling at her white blouse and showering her with anxious questions, but they could make nothing of her incoherent cries. "It's murder! They're cutting them up..." was all she could say. An old man with a tousled beard came up, supporting his homespun trousers with one hand as he ran.
"Stop your noise," he shouted at the hysterical178 woman. "Who's being murdered? What's it all about? Stop your squealing179, damn you!"
"It's our men and the Poddubtsy crowd . . . fighting over the boundaries again. They're slaughtering180 our men!"
That told them all. Women wailed181 and the old men bellowed182 in fury. The news swept through the village and eddied183 in the backyards: "The Poddubtsy crowd are cutting up our fellows with scythes184.... It's those boundaries again!" Only the bedridden remained indoors, all the rest poured into the village street and arming themselves with pitchforks, axes or sticks pulled from wattle fences ran toward the fields where the two villages were engaged in their bloody186 annual contest over the boundaries between their fields.
Korchagin struck his horse and the animal was off at a gallop145. The animal flew past the running village folk and, ears pressed back and hooves furiously pounding the ground, steadily187 increased its breakneck pace. On a hillock a windmill spread out its arms as if to bar the way. To the right, by the river bank, were the low meadows, and to the left a rye field rose and dipped all the way to the horizon. The wind rippled121 the ears of the ripe grain. Poppies sprinkled the roadside with bright
red. It was quiet here, and unbearably188 hot. But from the distance, where the silvery ribbon of the river basked189 in the sun, came the cries of battle.
The horse continued its wild career down toward the meadows. "If he stumbles, it's the end of both of us," flashed in Pavel's mind. But there was no stopping now, and all he could do was to listen to the wind whistle in his ears as he bent190 low in the saddle.
Like a whirlwind he galloped into the field where the bloody combat was raging. Several already lay bleeding on the ground.
The horse ran down a bearded peasant armed with the stub of a scythe185 handle who was pursuing a young man with blood streaming down his face. Nearby a sunburned giant of a man was aiming vicious kicks with his big heavy boots at the solar plexus of his victim.
Charging into the mass of struggling men at full speed, Korchagin sent them flying in all directions. Before they could recover from the surprise, he whirled madly now upon one, now on another, realising that he could disperse191 this knot of brutalised humanity only by terrorising them.
"Scatter79, you swine!" he shouted in a fury. "Or I'll shoot every last man of you, you blasted bandits!"
And pulling out his Mauser he fired over an upturned face twisted with savage192 rage. Again the horse whirled around and again the Mauser spoke193. Some of the combatants dropped their scythes and turned back. Dashing up and down the field and firing incessantly194, the Commissar finally got the situation in hand. The peasants took to their heels and scattered in all directions anxious to escape both from responsibility for the bloody brawl195 and from this man on horseback so terrible in his fury who was shooting without stop.
Luckily no one was killed and the wounded recovered. Nevertheless soon afterward196 a session of the district court was held in Poddubtsy to hear the case, but all the judge's efforts to discover the ringleaders were unavailing. With the persistence197 and patience of the true Bolshevik, the judge sought to make the sullen198 peasants before him see how barbarous their actions had been, and to impress upon them that such violence would not be tolerated.
"It's the boundaries that are to blame, Comrade judge," they said. "They've a way of getting mixed up — every year we fight over them."
Nevertheless some of the peasants had to answer for the fight.
A week later a commission came to the hay lands in question and began staking out the disputed strips.
"I've been working as land surveyor for nearly thirty years, and always it's been the dividing lines that caused trouble," the old surveyor with the commission said to Korchagin as he rolled up his tape. The old man was sweating profusely199 from the heat and the exertion200. "Ljooking at the way the meadows are divided you'd hardly believe your eyes. A drunkard could draw straighter lines. And the fields are even worse. Strips three paces wide and one crossing into the other — to try and separate them is enough to drive you mad. And they're being cut up more and more what with sons growing up and fathers splitting up their land with them. Believe me, twenty years from now there won't be any land left to till, it'll all be balks202. As it is, ten per cent of the land is being wasted in this way."
Korchagin smiled.
"Twenty years from now we won't have a single balk201 left, Comrade surveyor."
The old man gave him an indulgent look.
"The communist society, you mean? Well, now, that's pretty much in the future, isn't it?"
"Have you heard about the Budanovka Collective Farm?"
"Yes. I've been in Budanovka. But that's the exception, Comrade Korchagin."
The commission went on measuring strips of land. Two young men hammered in stakes. And on both sides stood the peasants watching closely to make sure that they went down where the half-rotten sticks barely visible in the grass marked the previous dividing lines.
Whipping up his wretched nag85, the garrulous203 driver turned to his passengers.
"Where all these Komsomol lads have sprung up from beats me!" he said. "Don't remember anything like it before. It's that schoolteacher woman who's started it, for sure. Rakitina's her name, maybe you know her? She's a young wench, but she's a troublemaker204. Stirs up all the womenfolk in the village, puts all kinds of silly ideas into their heads and that's how the trouble begins. It's got so a man can't beat his wife any more! In the old days you'd give the old woman a clout205 whenever you felt out of sorts and she'd slink away and sulk, but now she kicks up such a row you wished you hadn't touched her. She'll threaten you with the People's Court, and as for the younger ones, they'll talk about divorce and reel off all the laws to you. Look at my Ganka, she quietest wench you ever saw, now she's gone and got herself made a delegate; the elder among the womenfolk, I think that means. The women come to her from all over the village. I nearly let her have a taste of the whip when I heard about it, but I spat on the whole business. They can go to the devil! Let them jabber206. She isn't a bad wench when it comes to housework and such things."
The driver scratched his hairy chest visible through the opening in his homespun shirt and flicked207 his whip under the horse's belly208. The two in the cart were Razvalikhin and Lida. They both had business in Poddubtsy. Lida planned to call a conference of women's delegates, and Razvalikhin had been sent to help the local cell organise97 its work.
"So you don't like the Komsomols?" Lida jokingly asked the driver.
He plucked at his little beard for a while before replying.
"Oh I don't mind them.... I believe in letting the youngsters enjoy themselves, putting on plays and such like. I'm fond of a comedy myself if it's good. We did think at the beginning the young folk would get out of hand, but it turned out just the opposite. I've heard folks say they're very strict about drinking and rowing and such like. They go in more for book learning. But they won't leave God be, and they're always trying to take the church away and use it for a club. Now that's no good, it's turned the old folks against them. But on the whole they're not so bad. If you ask me,though, they make a big mistake taking in all the down-and-outs in the village, the ones who hire out, or who can't make a go of their farms. They won't have anything to do with the rich peasants'sons."
The cart clattered209 down the hill and pulled up outside the school building.
The caretaker had put up the new arrivals and gone off to sleep in the hay. Lida and Razvalikhin had just returned from a meeting which had ended rather late. It was dark inside the cottage. Lida undressed quickly, climbed into bed and fell asleep almost at once. She was rudely awakened by Razvalikhin's hands travelling over her in a manner that left no doubt as to his intentions.
"What do you want?"
"Shush, Lida, don't make so much noise. I'm sick of lying there all by myself. Can't you find anything more exciting to do than snooze?"
"Stop pawing me and get off my bed at once!" Lida said, pushing him away. Razvalikhin's oily smile had always sickened her and she wanted to say something insulting and humiliating, but sleep overpowered her and she closed her eyes.
"Aw, come on! You weren't brought up in a nunnery by any chance? Stop playing the little innocent, you can't fool me. If you were really an advanced woman, you'd satisfy my desire and then go to sleep as much as you want."
Considering the matter settled, he went over and sat on the edge of the bed again, laying a possessive hand on her shoulder.
"Go to hell!" Lida was now wide awake. "I'm going to tell Korchagin about this tomorrow."
Razvalikhin seized her hand and whispered testily210: "I don't care a damn about your Korchagin,and you'd better not try to resist or I'll take you by force."
There was a brief scuffle and then two resounding211 slaps rang out. Razvalikhin leapt aside. Lida groped her way to the door, pushed it open and rushed out into the yard. She stood there in the moonlight, panting with fury and disgust.
"Get inside, you fool!" Razvalikhin called to her viciously.
He carried his own bed out under the shed and spent the rest of the night there. Lida fastened the door on the latch212, curled up on the bed and went to sleep again.
In the morning they set out for home. Razvalikhin sat gloomily beside the old driver smoking one cigarette after another.
"That touch-me-not may really go and spill the beans to Korchagin, blast her!" he was thinking.
"Who'd have thought she'd turn out to be such a prig? You'd think she was a raving213 beauty by the way she acts, but she's nothing to look at. But I'd better make it up with her or there may be trouble. Korchagin has his eye on me as it is."
He moved over to Lida. He pretended to be ashamed of himself, put on a downcast air and mumbled214 a few words of apology.
That did the trick. Before they had reached the edge of the village Lida had given him her promise not to tell anyone what had happened that night.
Komsomol cells sprang up one after another in the border villages. The District Committee members carefully tended these first young shoots of the Communist movement. Korchagin and Lida Polevykh spent much time in the various localities working with the local Komsomol members.
Razvalikhin did not like making trips to the countryside. He did not know how to win the confidence of the peasant lads and only succeeded in bungling215 things. Lida and Pavel, on the other hand, had no difficulty in making friends with the peasant youth. The girls took to Lida at once, they accepted her as one of themselves and gradually she awakened their interest in the Komsomol movement. As for Korchagin, all the young folk in the district knew him. One thousand six hundred of the young men due to be called up for military service went through preliminary training in his battalion. Never before had his accordion216 played such an important role in propaganda as here in the village. The instrument made Pavel tremendously popular with the young folk, who gathered of an evening on the village lane to enjoy themselves, and for many a towheaded youngster the road to the Komsomol began here as he listened to the enchanting217 music of the accordion, now passionate218 and stirring, now strident and brave, now tender and caressing219 as only the sad, wistful songs of the Ukraine can be. They listened to the accordion, and they listened to the young man who played it, a railway worker who was now Military Commissar and Komsomol secretary. And the music of the accordion seemed to mingle220 harmoniously221 with what the young Commissar told them. Soon new songs rang out in the villages, and new books appeared in the cottages beside the prayer-books and Bibles.
The smugglers now had more than the frontier guards to reckon with; in the Komsomol members the Soviet Government had acquired staunch friends and zealous222 assistants. Sometimes the Komsomol cells in the border towns allowed themselves to be carried away by their enthusiasm in hunting down enemies and then Korchagin would have to come to the aid of his young comrades.
Once Grishutka Khorovodko, the blue-eyed Secretary of the Poddubtsy cell, a hot-headed lad fond of an argument and very active in the anti-religious movement, learned from private sources of information that some smuggled goods were to be brought that night to the village mill. He roused all the Komsomol members and, armed with a training rifle and two bayonets, they set out at the dead of night, quietly laid an ambush157 at the mill and waited for their quarry223 to appear. The border
post, which had been informed of the smugglers' move, sent out a detail of its own. In the dark the two sides met and clashed, and had it not been for the vigilance displayed by the frontier guards, the young men might have suffered heavy casualties in the skirmish. As it was the youngsters were merely disarmed224, taken to a village four kilometres away and locked up. Korchagin happened to be at Gavrilov's place at the time. When the Battalion Commander told him the news the following morning, Pavel mounted his horse and galloped off to rescue his boys. The frontier man in charge laughed as he told him the story.
"I'll tell you what we'll do, Comrade Korchagin," he said. "They're fine lads and we shan't make trouble for them. But you had better give them a good talking to so that they won't try to do our work for us in the future."
The sentry opened the door of the shed and the eleven lads got up and stood sheepishly shifting their weight from one foot to the other.
"Look at them," the frontier man said with studied severity. "They've gone and made a mess of things, and now I'll have to send them on to area headquarters."
Then Grishutka spoke up.
"But Comrade Sakharov," he said agitatedly226, "what crime have we committed? We've had our eye on that kulak for a long time. We only wanted to help the Soviet authorities, and you go and lock us up like bandits." He turned away with an injured air.
After a solemn consultation227, during which Korchagin and Sakharov had difficulty in preserving their gravity, they decided228 the boys had had enough of a fright.
"If you will vouch229 for them and promise us that they won't go taking walks over to the frontier any more I'll let them go," Sakharov said to Pavel. "They can help us in other ways."
"Very well, I'll vouch for them. I hope they won't let me down any more."
The youngsters marched back to Poddubtsy singing. The incident was hushed up. And it was not long before the miller230 was caught, this time by the law.
In the Maidan-Villa woods there lived a colony of rich German farmers. The kulak farms stood within half a kilometre of each other, as sturdily built as miniature fortresses231. It was from Maidan-Villa that Antonyuk and his band operated. Antonyuk, a one-time tsarist army sergeant232 major, had recruited a band of seven cutthroats from among his kith and kin9 and, armed with pistols, staged hold-ups on the country roads. He did not hesitate to spill blood, he was not averse233 to robbing wealthy speculators, but neither did he stop at molesting234 Soviet workers. Speed was Antonyuk's watchword. One day he would rob a couple of co-operative store clerks and the next day he would disarm225 a postal235 employee in a village a good twenty kilometres away, stealing everything the man had on him, down to the last kopek. Antonyuk competed with his fellow-brigand236 Gordei, one was worse than the other, and between them the two kept the area militia237 and frontier guard authorities very busy. Antonyuk operated just outside Berezdov, and it grew dangerous to appear on the roads leading to the town. The bandit eluded238 capture; when things grew too hot for him he would withdraw beyond the border and lie low only to turn up again when he was least expected. His very elusiveness239 made him a menace. Every report of some fresh outrage240 committed by this brigand caused Lisitsyn to gnaw241 his lips with rage.
"When will that rattlesnake stop biting us? He'd better take care, the scoundrel, or I'll have to settle his hash myself," he would mutter through clenched242 teeth. Twice the District Executive Chairman,taking Korchagin and three other Communists with him, set out hot on the bandit's trail, but each time Antonyuk got away.
A special detachment was sent to Berezdov from the area centre to fight the bandits. It was commanded by a dapper youth named Filatov. Instead of reporting to the Chairman of the Executive Committee, as frontier regulations demanded, this conceited243 youngster went straight to the nearest village, Semaki, and arriving at the dead of night, put up with his men in a house on the outskirts244. The mysterious arrival of these armed men was observed by a Komsomol member living next door who hurried off at once to report to the Chairman of the Village Soviet. The latter,knowing nothing about the detachment, took them for bandits and dispatched the lad at once to the
district centre for help. Filatov's foolhardiness very nearly cost many lives. Lisitsyn roused the militia in the middle of the night and hurried off with a dozen men to tackle the "bandits" in Semaki. They galloped up to the house, dismounted and climbing over the fence closed in on the house. The sentry on duty at the door was knocked down by a blow on the head with a revolver-butt, Lisitsyn broke in the door with his shoulder and he and his men rushed into a room dimly lighted by an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling. With a grenade in one hand and his Mauser in the other Lisitsyn roared so that the window panes245 rattled246:
"Surrender, or I'll blow you to bits!"
Another second and the sleepy men leaping to their feet from the floor might have been cut down by a hail of bullets. But the sight of the man with the grenade poised247 for the throw was so awe248 inspiring that they put up their hands. A few minutes later, when the "bandits" were herded249 outside in their underwear, Filatov noticed the decoration on Lisitsyn's tunic and hastened to explain.
Lisitsyn was furious. "You fool!" he spat out with withering250 contempt.
Tidings of the German revolution, dim echoes of the rifle fire on the Hamburg barricades251 reached the border area. An atmosphere of tension hung over the frontier. Newspapers were read with eager expectation. The wind of revolution blew from the West. Applications poured in to the Komsomol District Committee from Komsomols volunteering for service in the Red Army.
Korchagin was kept busy explaining to the youngsters from the cells that the Soviet union was pursuing a policy of peace and that it had no intentions of going to war with its neighbours. But this had little effect. Every Sunday Komsomol members from the entire district held meetings in the big garden of the priest's house, and one day at noon the Poddubtsy cell turned up in proper marching order in the yard of the District Committee. Korchagin saw them through the window and went out into the porch. Eleven lads, with Khorovodko at their head, all wearing top boots, and with large canvas knapsacks on their backs, halted at the entrance.
"What's this, Grisha?" Korchagin asked in surprise.
Instead of replying, Khorovodko signed to Pavel with his eyes and went inside the building with him. Lida, Razvalikhin and two other Komsomol members pressed around the newcomer demanding an explanation. Khorovodko closed the door and wrinkling his bleached252 eyebrows253 announced:
"This is a sort of test mobilisation, Comrades. My own idea. I told the boys this morning a telegram had come from the district, strictly confidential of course, that we're going to war with the German bourgeoisie, and we'll soon be fighting the Polish Pany as well. All Komsomols are called up, on orders from Moscow, I told them. Anyone who's scared can file an application and he'll be allowed to stay home. I ordered them not to say a word about the war to anyone, just to take a loaf of bread and a hunk of fatback apiece, and those who didn't have any fatback could bring garlic or onions. We were to meet secretly outside the village and go to the district centre and from there to the area centre where arms would be issued. You ought to see what an effect that had on the boys! They tried hard to pump me, but I told them to get busy and cut out the questions. Those who wanted to stay behind should say so. We only wanted volunteers. Well, my boys dispersed254 and I began to get properly worried. Supposing nobody turned up? If that happened I would disband the whole cell and move to some other place. I sat there outside the village
waiting with my heart in my boots. After a while they began coming, one by one. Some of them had been crying, you could see by their faces, though they tried to hide it. All ten of them turned up, not a single deserter. That's our Poddubtsy cell for you!" he wound up triumphantly255.
When the shocked Lida Polevykh began to scold him, he stared at her in amazement257.
"What do you mean? This is the best way to test them, I tell you. You can see right through each one of them. There's no fraud there. I was going to drag them to the area centre just to keep up appearances, but the poor beggars are dog-tired. You'll have to make a little speech to them, Korchagin. You will, won't you? It wouldn't be right without a speech. Tell them the mobilisation has been called off or something, but say that we're proud of them just the same."
Korchagin seldom visited the area centre, for the journey took several days and pressure of work demanded his constant presence in the district. Razvalikhin, on the other hand, was ready to ride off to town on any pretext258. He would set out on the journey armed from head to foot, fancying himself one of Fenimore Cooper's heroes. As he drove through the woods he would take pot shots at crows or at some fleetfooted squirrel, stop lone passersby259 and question them sternly as to who they were, where they had come from and whither they were bound. On approaching the town he would remove his weapons, stick his rifle under the hay in the cart and, hiding his revolver in his pocket, stroll into the office of the Komsomol Regional Committee looking his usual self.
"Well, what's the news in Berezdov?" Fedotov, Secretary of the Regional Committee, inquired as Razvalikhin entered his office one day.
Fedotov's office was always crowded with people all talking at once. It was not easy to work under such conditions, listening to four different people, while replying to a fifth and writing something at the same time. Although Fedotov was very young he had been a Party member since 1919; it was only in those stormy times that a 15-year-old lad could have been admitted into the Party. "Oh, there's plenty of news," answered Razvalikhin nonchalantly. "Too much to tell all at once. It's one long grind from morning till night. There's so much to attend to. We've had to start from the very beginning, you know. I set up two new cells. Now, tell me what you called me here for?" And he sat down in an armchair with a businesslike air.
Krymsky, the head of the economic department, looked up from the heap of papers on his desk for a moment.
"We asked for Korchagin, not you," he said. Razvalikhin blew out a thick cloud of tobacco smoke.
"Korchagin doesn't like coming here, so I have to do it on top of everything else.... In general, some secretaries have a fine time of it. They don't do anything themselves. It's the donkeys like me who have to carry the load. Whenever Korchagin goes to the border he's gone for two or three weeks and all the work is left to me."
Razvalikhin's broad hint that he was the better man for the job of district secretary was not lost on his hearers.
"That fellow doesn't appeal to me much," Fedotov remarked to the others when Razvalikhin had gone.
Razvalikhin's trickery was exposed quite by chance. Lisitsyn dropped into Fedotov's office one day to pick up the mail, which was the custom for anyone coming from the district, and in the course of a conversation between the two men Razvalikhin was exposed.
"Send Korchagin to us anyway," said Fedotov in parting. "We hardly know him here."
"Very well. But don't try to take him away from us, mind. We shan't allow that."
This year the anniversary of the October Revolution was celebrated260 on the border with even greater enthusiasm than usual. Korchagin was elected chairman of the committee organising the celebrations in the border villages. After the meeting in Poddubtsy, five thousand peasants from three neighbouring villages marched to the frontier in a procession half a kilometre long, carrying scarlet261 banners and with a military band and the training battalion at the head. They marched in perfect order on the Soviet side of the frontier, parallel to the border posts, bound for the villages that had been cut in two by the demarcation line. Never before had the Poles witnessed the like on their frontier. Battalion Commander Gavrilov and Korchagin rode ahead of the column on horseback, and behind them the band played, the banners rustled262 in the breeze and the singing of the people resounded263 far and wide. The peasant youth clad in their holiday best were in high spirits, the village girls twittered and laughed gaily264, the adults marched along gravely, the old folk with an air of solemn triumph. The human stream stretched as far as eye could see. One of its banks was the frontier, but no one so much as stepped across that forbidden line. Korchagin watched the sea of people march past. The strains of the Komsomol song "From the forests dense265 to Britain's seas, the Red Army is strongest of all!" gave way to a girls' chorus singing "Up on yonder hillside the girls are a-mowing...."
The Soviet sentries greeted the procession with happy smiles. The Polish guards looked on bewildered. This demonstration266 on the frontier caused no little consternation267 on the other side, although the Polish command had been warned of it in advance. Mounted gendarme268 patrols moved restlessly back and forth269, the frontier guard had been strengthened fivefold and reserves were hidden behind the nearby hills ready for any emergency. But the procession kept to its own territory, marching along gaily, filling the air with its singing.
A Polish sentry stood on a knoll. The column approached with measured tread. The first notes of a march rang out. The Pole brought his rifle smartly to his side and then presented arms, and Korchagin distinctly heard the words: "Long live the Commune!"
The soldier's eyes told Pavel that it was he who had uttered the words. Pavel stared at him fascinated.
A friend! Beneath the soldier's uniform a heart beat in sympathy with the demonstrators. Pavel replied softly in Polish:
"Greetings, Comrade!"
The sentry stood in the same position while the demonstration marched past. Pavel turned round several times to look at the dark little figure. Here was another Pole. His whiskers were touched with grey and the eyes under the shiny peak of his cap expressed nothing. Pavel, still under the impression of what he had just heard, murmured in Polish as if to himself:
"Greetings, Comrade!"
But there was no reply.
Gavrilov smiled. He had overheard what had passed.
"You expect too much," he observed. "They aren't all plain infantrymen, you know. Some of them are gendarmes270. Didn't you notice the chevron271 on his sleeve? That one was a gendarme for sure."
The head of the column was already descending272 the hill toward a village cut in two by the frontier. The Soviet half of the village had prepared to meet the guests in grand style. All the inhabitants were waiting at the frontier bridge on the bank of the stream. The young folk were lined up on either side of the road. The roofs of cottages and sheds on the Polish side were covered with people who were watching the proceedings273 on the opposite bank with tense interest. There were crowds of peasants on the cottage steps and by the garden fences. When the procession entered the human corridor the band struck up the Internationale. Later stirring speeches were delivered from a platform decorated with greenery. Young men and white-headed veterans addressed the crowd.
Korchagin too spoke in his native Ukrainian. His words flew over the border and were heard on the other side of the river, whereupon the gendarmes over there began to disperse the villagers for fear that those fiery274 words might inflame275 the hearts of those who listened. Whips whistled and shots were fired into the air.
The streets emptied out. The young folk, scared off the roofs by gendarme bullets, disappeared.
Those on the Soviet side looked on and their faces grew grave. Filled with wrath276 by what he had just witnessed, an aged124 shepherd climbed onto the platform with the help of some village lads and addressed the crowd in great agitation277.
"You've seen, my children? That's how we used to be treated too. But no more. Nobody dare whip us peasants any more. We've finished with the gentry278 and their whippings. We're in power now and it's for you, my sons, to hold on firmly to that power. I'm an old man and I'm not much good at speech-making. But I'd tell you a lot if I could. I'd tell you how we used to toil162 like oxen in the days of the tsars. That's why it hurts to see those poor folks over there." He pointed279 with a shaking hand toward the other side of the river, and fell to weeping as old men do.
Then Grishutka Khorovodko spoke. Gavrilov, listening to his wrathful speech, turned his horse around and scanned the opposite bank to see whether anyone there was taking notes. But the river bank was deserted. Even the sentry by the bridge had been removed.
"Well, it looks as if there won't be any protest note to the Foreign Affairs Commissariat after all," he laughed.
One rainy night in late autumn the bloody trail of Antonyuk and his seven men came to an end.
The bandits were caught at a wedding party in the house of a wealthy farmer in the German colony in Maidan-Villa. It was the peasants from the Khrolinsky Commune who tracked him down.
The local women had spread the news about these guests at the colony wedding, and the Komsomols got together at once, twelve of them, and armed with whatever they could lay their hands on, set out for Maidan-Villa by cart, sending a messenger post-haste to Berezdov. At Semaki the messenger chanced to meet Filatov's detachment, which rushed off hot on the trail.
The Khrolinsky men surrounded the farm and began to exchange rifle fire with the Antonyuk band. The latter entrenched280 themselves in a small wing of the farmhouse281 and opened fire at anyone who came within range. They tried to make a dash for it, but were driven back inside the building after losing one of their number. Antonyuk had been in many a tight corner like this and had fought his way out with the aid of hand grenades and darkness. He might have escaped this time too, for the Khrolinsky Komsomols had already lost two men, but Filatov arrived in the nick of time. Antonyuk saw that the game was up. He continued firing back till morning from all the
windows, but at dawn they took him. Not one of the seven surrendered. It cost four lives to stamp out the viper's nest. Three of the casualties were lads from the newly-organised Khrolinsky Komsomol group.
Korchagin's battalion was called up for the autumn manoeuvres of the territorial282 forces. The battalion covered the forty kilometres to the divisional camp in a single day's march under a driving rain. They set out early in the morning and reached their destination late at night. Gusev, the Battalion Commander, and his commissar rode on horseback. The eight hundred trainees reached the barracks exhausted283 and went to sleep at once. The manoeuvres were due to begin the following morning; the headquarters of the territorial division had been late in summoning the battalion. Lined up for inspection, the battalion, now in uniform and carrying rifles, presented an entirely284 different appearance. Both Gusev and Korchagin had invested much time and effort in training these young men and they were confident that the unit would pass muster285. After the official inspection had ended and the battalion had shown its skill on the drill ground, one of the commanders, a man with a handsome though flaccid face, turned to Korchagin and demanded sharply:
"Why are you mounted? The commanders and commissars of our training battalions286 are not entitled to horses. Turn your mount over to the stables and report for manoeuvres on foot."
Korchagin knew that if he dismounted he would be unable to take part in the manoeuvres, for his legs would not carry him a single kilometre. But how could he explain the situation to this loudmouthed coxcomb287 festooned with leather straps?
"I shall not be able to take part in the manoeuvres on foot."
"Why not?"
Realising that he would have to give some explanation, Korchagin replied in a low voice:
"My legs are swollen and I will not be able to stand a whole week of running and walking. But perhaps you will tell me who you are, Comrade?"
"In the first place I am Chief of Staff of your regiment. Secondly288, I order you once more to get off that horse. If you are an invalid289 you ought not to be in the army."
Pavel felt as if he had been struck on the face with a whip. He jerked the reins, but Gusev's strong hand checked him. For a few moments injured pride and self-restraint fought for supremacy290 in Pavel. But Pavel Korchagin was no longer the Red Army man who could shift light-heartedly from unit to unit. He was a Battalion Commissar now, and his battalion stood there behind him.
What a poor example of discipline he would be showing his men if he disobeyed the order! It was not for this conceited ass67 that he had reared his battalion. He slipped his feet out of the stirrups,dismounted and, fighting the excruciating pain in his joints, walked over to the right flank.
For several days the weather had been unusually fine. The manoeuvres were drawing to a close.
On the fifth day the troops were in the vicinity of Shepetovka, where the exercises were to end.
The Berezdov Battalion had been given the assignment of capturing the station from the direction of Klimentovichi village.
Korchagin, who was now on homeground, showed Gusev all the approaches. The battalion,divided into two parts, made a wide detour291 and emerging in the enemy rear broke into the station building with loud cheers. The operation was given the highest appraisal292. The Berezdov men remained in possession of the station while the battalion that had defended it withdrew to the woods having been judged to have "lost" fifty per cent of its men.
Korchagin was in command of one half of the battalion. He had ordered his men to deploy293 and was standing in the middle of the street with the commander and political instructor294 of the third company when a Red Army man came running up to him.
"Comrade Commissar," he panted, "the Battalion Commander wants to know whether the machine-gunners are holding the railway crossings. The commission's on its way here."
Pavel and the commanders with him went over to one of the crossings. The Regimental Commander and his aides were there. Gusev was congratulated on the successful operations.
Representatives from the routed battalion looked sheepish and did not even try to justify295 themselves.
Gusev said: "I can't take the credit for it. It was Korchagin here who showed us the way. He hails from these parts."
The Chief of Staff rode up to Pavel and said with a sneer: "So you can run quite well after all,Comrade. The horse was just a show-off, I suppose?" He was about to say something else, but the look on Korchagin's face stopped him.
"You don't happen to know his name, do you?" Korchagin asked Gusev when the higher commanders had gone.
Gusev slapped him on the shoulder.
"Now then, don't you pay any attention to that upstart. His name is Chuzhanin. A former ensign, I believe."
Several times that day Pavel racked his brains in an effort to recall where he had heard that name before, but he could not remember.
The manoeuvres were over. The battalion, having been highly commended, went back to Berezdov. Korchagin, utterly296 exhausted, remained behind to rest for a day or two at home. For two days he slept round the clock, and on the third day he went to see Artem down at the engine sheds.
Here in this grimy, smoke-blackened building Pavel felt at home. Hungrily he inhaled297 the coal smoke. This was where he really belonged and it was here he wished to be. He felt as if he had lost something infinitely298 dear to him. It was months since he had heard an engine whistle, and the one-time stoker and electrician yearned299 as much for the familiar surroundings as the sailor yearns300 for the boundless301 sea expanse after a prolonged stay on shore. It was a long time before he could get over this feeling. He spoke little to his brother, who now worked at a portable forge. He noticed a new furrow302 on Artem's brow. He was the father of two children now. Evidently Artem was having a hard time of it. He did not complain, but Pavel could see for himself.
They worked side by side for an hour or two. Then they parted.
At the railway crossing Pavel reined in his horse and gazed for a long while at the station. Then he struck his mount and galloped down the road through the woods.
The forest roads were now quite safe. All the bandits, big and small, had been stamped out by the Bolsheviks, and the villages in the area now lived in peace.
Pavel reached Berezdov around noon. Lida Polevykh ran out into the porch of the District Committee to meet him.
"Welcome home!" she said with a warm smile. "We have missed you here!" She put her arm around him and the two went in doors.
"Where is Razvalikhin?" he asked her as he took off his coat.
"I don't know," Lida replied rather reluctantly. "Oh yes, I remember now. He said this morning he was going to the school to take the class in sociology instead of you. He says it's his job not yours."
This was an unpleasant surprise for Pavel. He had never liked Razvalikhin. "That fellow may make a hash of things at the school," he thought in annoyance303.
"Never mind him," he said to Lida. "Tell me, what's the good news here. Have you been to Grushevka? How are things with the youngsters over there?"
While Lida gave him the news, Pavel relaxed on the couch resting his aching limbs.
"The day before yesterday Rakitina was accepted as candidate member of the Party. That makes our Poddubtsy cell much stronger. Rakitina is a good girl, I like her very much. The teachers are beginning to come over to our side, some of them are with us already."
Korchagin and Lychikov, the new Secretary of the Party District Committee, often met at Lisitsyn's place of an evening and the three would sit studying at the big desk until the early hours of the morning.
The door leading to the bedroom where Lisitsyn's wife and sister slept would be tightly closed and the three bending over a small volume would converse304 in low tones. Lisitsyn had only time to study at night. Even so whenever Pavel returned from his frequent trips to the villages he would find to his chagrin305 that his comrades had gone far ahead of him.
One day a messenger from Poddubtsy brought the news that Grishutka Khorovodko had been murdered the night before by unknown assailants. Pavel rushed off at once to the Executive Committee stables, forgetting the pain in his legs, saddled a horse with feverish306 haste and galloped off toward the frontier.
Grishutka's body lay amid spruce branches on a table in the Village Soviet cottage, the red banner of the Soviet draped over him. A frontier man and a Komsomol stood on guard at the door admitting no one until the authorities arrived. Korchagin entered the cottage, went over to the table and turned back the banner.
Grishutka, his face waxen, his dilated307 eyes transfixed in agony of death, lay with his head to one side. A spruce branch covered the spot where the back of his head had been bashed in by some sharp weapon.
Who had taken the life of this young man? He was the only son of widow Khorovodko. His father,a mill hand and member of the Poor Peasants' Committee, had died fighting for the Revolution.
The shock of her son's death had brought the old woman to her bed and neighbours were trying to comfort her. And her son lay cold and still preserving the secret of his untimely end.
Grishutka's murder had aroused the indignation of the whole village. The young Komsomol leader and champion of the poor peasants turned out to have far more friends in the village than enemies.
Rakitina, greatly upset by the news, sat in her room weeping bitterly. She did not even look up when Korchagin came in.
"Who do you think killed him, Rakitina?" Korchagin asked hoarsely308, dropping heavily into a chair.
"It must be that gang from the mill. Grisha had always been a thorn in the side of those smugglers."
Two villages turned up for Grisha Khorovodko's funeral. Korchagin brought his battalion, and the whole Komsomol organisation came to pay its last respects to their comrade. Gavrilov mustered309 a company of two hundred and fifty border guards on the square in front of the Village Soviet. To the accompaniment of the mournful strains of the funeral march the coffin310 swathed in red bunting was brought out and placed on the square where a fresh grave had been dug beside the graves of the Bolshevik partisans311 who had fallen in the Civil War.
Grishutka's death united all those whose interests he had so staunchly upheld. The young agricultural labourers and the poor peasants vowed312 to support the Komsomol, and all who spoke at the graveside wrathfully demanded that the murderers be brought to book, that they be tried here on the square beside the grave of their victim, so that everyone might see who the enemies were.
Three volleys thundered forth, and fresh spruce branches were laid on the grave. That evening the cell elected a new secretary — Rakitina. A message came for Korchagin from the border post with the news that they were on the trail of the murderers.
A week later, when the second District Congress of Soviets opened in the town theatre, Lisitsyn, gravely triumphant256, announced:
"Comrades, I am happy to be able to report to this congress that we have accomplished313 a great deal in the past year. Soviet power is firmly established in the district, banditism has been uprooted314 and smuggling has been all but wiped out. Strong organisations of peasant poor have come into being in the villages, the Komsomol organisations are ten times as strong as they were and the Party organisations have expanded. The last kulak provocation315 in Poddubtsy, which cost us the life of our comrade Khorovodko, has been exposed. The murderers, the miller and his son-in-law, have been arrested and will be tried in a few days by the gubernia assizes. Several
delegations316 from the villages have demanded that this congress pass a resolution demanding the supreme317 penalty for these bandits and terrorists."
A storm of approval shook the hall.
"Hear, hear! Death to the enemies of Soviet power!"
Lida Polevykh appeared at one of the side doors. She beckoned318 to Pavel.
Outside in the corridor she handed him an envelope marked "urgent". He opened it and read:
"To the Berezdov District Committee of the Komsomol. Copy to the District Committee of the Party. By decision of the Gubernia Committee Comrade Korchagin is recalled from the district to the Gubernia Committee for appointment to responsible Komsomol work."
Pavel took leave of the district where he had worked for the past year. There were two items on the agenda of the last meeting of the Party District Committee held before his departure: 1) Transfer of Comrade Korchagin to membership in the Communist Party, 2) Endorsement319 of his testimonial upon his release from the post of Secretary of the Komsomol District Committee. Lisitsyn and Lida wrung320 Pavel's hand on parting and embraced him affectionately, and when his horse turned out of the courtyard onto the road, a dozen revolvers fired a parting salute321.
国境线——就是两根柱子。它们面对面地竖在那里,默默地互相敌视,象征着两个世界。一根柱子刨得很光滑,像警察岗亭那样漆着黑白相间的线条。柱顶上面牢牢地钉着一只独头鹰。这只嗜食兽尸的恶鸟展开双翼,似乎正用利爪抓住这根漆着线条的界桩;同时,它又伸出贪婪的钩嘴,不怀好意地瞪着对面的铁牌。对面六步以外竖着另一根柱子。这是一根削去了皮的粗大圆形柞木柱,深深埋在地里。柱顶上是一块铸着锤子和镰刀的铁牌。虽然这两根界桩都竖在一块平地上,但是两个世界之间却隔着一道万丈深渊,不冒生命危险就想越过这六步的距离是不可能的。
这里就是边界线。
苏维埃社会主义共和国的这些无声的哨兵,顶着铸有伟大的劳动标志的铁牌,排列成屹立不动的散兵线,从黑海起,经过数千公里,一直伸展到极北地区,伸向北冰洋。苏维埃乌克兰和地主波兰的国界,就从这根钉着一只老鹰的柱子开始。密林深处有一个不引人注目的小镇,叫别列兹多夫。小镇离国境线十公里,过国境线便是波兰的科列茨镇。从斯拉武塔镇到阿纳波利镇是边防军某营的防区。
这些界桩跨过积雪覆盖的田野,穿越森林中的通道,下到峡谷,又爬上山岗,然后伸向河边,站在高高的河岸上,注视着冰天雪地的异国原野。
天非常寒冷。雪在毡靴下面咯吱咯吱作响。一个身材高大的人,戴着英武的盔形帽,从那个有锤子和镰刀的界桩走起,迈着有力的步伐,在他负责的地段内巡逻。这个魁梧的红军战士穿着灰色的军大衣,戴着绿色领章,脚上穿的是毡靴。大衣外面还披着一件又肥又大的宽领羊皮外套,脑袋包在呢子的盔形帽里,很暖和。手上戴的是羊皮手套。那羊皮外套很长,一直拖到脚跟,即使在严寒的暴风雪天也冻不透。
这个红军战士肩膀上背着一支步枪,在巡逻线上走着,皮外套下摆擦着地上的积雪。他津津有味地抽着自己卷的马合烟。
在这开阔的平原上,苏维埃边境线上的两个哨兵之间的距离是一公里,彼此可以看见,而在波兰那边是一公里到两公里。
一个波兰哨兵正沿着他自己的巡逻线向红军战士迎面走来。他穿着质量低劣的高统军鞋、灰绿色的军服,外面是一件有两排亮纽扣的黑大衣,头上戴着四角军帽,军帽上缀着一只白鹰。呢子肩章上也是鹰,领章上还是鹰,可是这么多鹰并没有使他稍微暖和一些。凛冽的寒气一直钻到了他骨头里面。他搓着麻木的耳朵,一边走,一边用一只脚后跟踢着另一只脚后跟,手上只戴着一双薄薄的手套,手早就冻僵了。
这个波兰兵一分钟也不敢站下,一停下,他全身的关节马上就会冻僵。他一刻不停地来回走动,有时还要跑几步。现在,这两个哨兵隔着边界相遇了,波兰兵转过身来,跟红军战士并排走着。
边界上是禁止交谈的,但是,四周是一片荒野,只在前面一公里以外才有人影,谁知道这两个人是默默地走着,还是违反了国际法呢?
波兰人想抽烟,可是火柴忘在兵营里了。微风故意把马合烟的诱人香味从苏维埃那边吹过来。波兰人不再搓他那冻坏了的耳朵,他回头看了看——说不定班长或者中尉老爷会带领骑兵巡逻队到边境线上来,他们会出人意外地从山岗后面钻出来查岗的。但是现在四周空荡荡的。白雪在阳光下闪着耀眼的光芒。空中没有一片雪花。
“同志,火柴借我用一用。”波兰兵首先开了口,破坏了公法的神圣性,他讲的是波兰话。他把那支插着刺刀的法国连射步枪往背后一甩,用冻僵了的手指从大衣口袋里吃力地掏出一包廉价烟卷来。
红军战士听见了波兰人的请求,但是边防军条令禁止战士跟境外的任何人交谈,而且他又没有完全听懂那个波兰兵说的话,因此,他继续迈着坚定的步子,走自己的路,他那两只暖和而柔软的毡靴踩着积雪,发出咯吱咯吱的响声。
“布尔什维克同志,借个火点烟,请扔盒火柴过来。”波兰哨兵这一次说的是俄语。
红军战士仔细地看了看身旁的这个人,心里想:“看来这位‘先生’连五脏六腑都冻透了。虽说是给资产阶级当兵,他的生活也真够惨的。这么冷的天,穿件又薄又破的外套就给赶出来放哨,看他冻得像兔子一样蹦蹦跳跳,不抽口烟可真不行了。”于是,红军战士连头也没有扭,扔过去一盒火柴。
波兰兵接住飞过来的火柴,划了一根又一根,最后总算把烟点着了。那盒火些又以同样的方法飞过了边界,这时,红军战士无意中也破坏了公法:“你留着用吧,我还有。”
从边界那边传来了回话:“不,谢谢,为这一小盒火柴,我得蹲两年监狱。”
红军战士看了看火柴盒。上面印着一架飞机。飞机头上不是螺旋桨,而是一只强有力的拳头,盒上还写着:“最后通牒”。他想:“是啊,真不假,把这个东西给他可真不行。”
波兰士兵继续和红军战士朝一个方向走着。在这空旷无人的原野上,他一个人感到太寂寞了。
马鞍有节奏地咯吱咯吱响着,马的脚步又轻快又平稳。黑公马的鼻孔周围挂上了一层白霜。马呼出的白雾消失在空气里。营长骑的那匹花骒马神气地迈着步子,不时把纤细的脖子弯成弧形,玩着辔头。两个骑马的人都穿着灰色军大衣,扎着武装带,袖子上都有三个方形的红色军衔标志。只是营长加夫里洛夫的领章是绿色的,而另一个人的领章是红色的。加夫里洛夫是边防军人。他是这里的“当家人”,他的一营人就在这七十公里的防区内站岗放哨。和他同行的是从别列兹多夫来的客人——普及军训营政委柯察金。
夜里下过雪。松软的雪地上,没有蹄印,也没有人迹。这两个骑马的人走出一片小树林,在原野上策马小跑。侧面四十步以外,又是一对界桩。
“吁!——”
加夫里洛夫勒紧了马缰绳。保尔也拨转马头,看营长为什么停马不前。加夫里洛夫从马鞍上俯下身子,仔细地察看雪地上一排古怪的迹印,好像有人用带齿的轮子在上面滚过似的。这是一只狡猾的小兽留下的,它走的时候后脚踏在前脚的脚印上,还故意绕了许多圈子来弄乱来去的踪迹。这只小兽从什么地方走来的,很难弄明白,但是营长勒住马要察看的并不是野兽的脚印。离这些兽迹两步远的地方,另有一些脚印,已经薄薄地盖上了一层雪。这里有人走过。这个人没有故布疑阵,他是径直朝树林里走去的,脚印清楚地说明他是从波兰过来的。营长又策马前进,循着脚印走到了哨兵巡逻线。在波兰境内十步远的地方,还可以看见这些脚印。
“夜里有人越境了。”营长嘴里咕哝着。“这回又是穿过三排的防区,可是他们早晨的报告什么也没讲。他妈的!”加夫里洛夫的小胡子本来就有些花白,再加上他呼气凝成的白霜,现在像镀了银一样,威严地挂在嘴唇上。
有两个人正朝骑马的人走来。一个身材矮小,穿着黑色衣服,那把法国刺刀在阳光下闪闪发亮;另一个身材高大,穿着黄色的羊皮外套。花骒马感到主人两腿用力夹它,就跑了起来,很快到了那个人跟前。红军战士整了整肩上的枪带,把烟头吐到雪地上。
“同志,您好!您这儿有什么情况吗?”营长一边问,一边把手伸给红军战士。因为这个战士个子很高,营长在马上几乎用不着弯腰。大个子战士急忙从手上扯下手套。营长和哨兵握手问好。
波兰哨兵在一旁注视着。两个红军军官(在布尔什维克的军队里袖章上三个小方块可就是少校军衔)同一个普通士兵握手,彼此像亲密的朋友一样。刹那间,他仿佛觉得是他自己在同他的扎克尔热夫斯基少校握手,可是这种想法太荒唐了,他不由自主地回头看了一下。
“我刚刚接班,营长同志。”红军战士报告说。
“那边的脚印您看见了吗?”
“没有,还没看见。”
“夜里两点到六点是谁值班?”
“苏罗坚科,营长同志。”
“好吧,要特别留神。”
临走时,他又严肃地提醒战士:“您尽量少跟他们并排走。”
当两匹马在边界和别列兹多夫镇之间的大路上小跑的时候,营长说:“在边境上随时都得瞪大眼睛。稍一疏忽,就要后悔。干我们这一行不能睡大觉。白天越境不那么容易,一到夜里,就要十分警惕。柯察金同志,您想想看,我负责的地段有四个村子是跨界的。这儿的工作更困难。无论你布上多少哨兵,一到谁家办喜事或者逢年过节,所有的亲戚就都越过边界,聚在一起。这有什么难的——两边的房子才隔二十步远,那条小河沟连母鸡也能蹚过去。走私的事也是免不了的。当然,这都是小事情。也就是一个老太婆偷偷带过来两瓶四十度波兰香露酒这一类的事,但是也有不少大走私犯,他们的资本和规模是很大的。你知道波兰人都干些什么吗?他们在靠近边界的所有村子里都开设了百货商店:你要买什么,应有尽有。
显然,这些商店决不是给他们那些贫苦农民开的。”
保尔蛮有兴趣地听营长讲着。边防线上的生活很像是不间断的侦察工作。
“加夫里洛夫同志,事情只限于走私吗?”
营长闷闷不乐地回答说:“你这可问到点子上了!……”
别列兹多夫是一座小镇。这个偏僻的角落从前是指定准许犹太人居住的。二三百座小破房子乱七八糟地挤在一起。有一个挺大的集市广场,市场中心是二十来家小店铺。广场上到处是污泥和粪便。小镇周围是农民的住宅。在犹太人聚居的地区,有一座古老的犹太教堂,坐落在通往屠宰场的路旁。
这座破旧的建筑物,如今已呈现出一片凄凉景象。每到礼拜六,虽然还不至于冷落到门可罗雀的地步,但是光景毕竟不如从前,祭司的生活也完全不像他所希望的那样了。看来一九一七年发生的事情的确非常不妙,因为甚至在这个穷乡僻壤,青年人对祭司也没有起码的尊敬了。不错,那些老年人还没有“破戒”,可是有那么多小孩已经吃起亵渎神明的猪肉香肠来了!呸,连想一想都怪恶心的!一头猪正起劲地拱着粪堆找吃的,气得祭司博鲁赫走上去踹了它一脚。还有,别列兹多夫成了区的中心,这也叫祭司老大不高兴。鬼知道从哪儿跑来这么多共产党员,他们越闹越凶,一天比一天让人不痛快。昨天,他看见神甫家的大门上又挂出了一块新牌子:乌克兰共产主义青年团别列兹多夫区委员会这块牌子决不是什么好兆头。祭司边走边想心事,不知不觉到了他的教堂跟前,没想到教堂门上竟贴出了一张小小的布告,上面写着:今日在俱乐部召开劳动青年群众大会。苏维埃执委会主席利西岑和区团委代理书记柯察金同志做报告。会后由九年制学校学生演出歌舞。
祭司发疯似的把布告从门上撕下来。
“哼,真的干起来啦!”
神甫家的大花园从两面合抱着镇上的正教小教堂,花园里有一座宽敞的老式房子。空荡荡的房间里散发着霉味,从前神甫和他的妻子就住在这里,他们像这房子一样老朽而且空虚,彼此早就嫌弃了。新主人一搬进这所房子,空虚寂寞就一扫而光。那间大客厅,虔诚的主人过去只是在宗教节日里才用来接待客人,现在却经常挤得满满的。神甫的府第成了别列兹多夫区党委会的所在地。进前门往右拐有一个小房间,门上写着几个粉笔字:“共青团区委会”。保尔每天在这里花去他的一部分时间,他除了担任第二军训营的政委以外,还兼任刚成立的共青团区委会的代理书记。
自从他们在安娜那里为奥库涅夫结婚举行庆祝晚会以来,到现在已经过去八个月了,但是想起来就好像是不久以前的事。保尔把一大堆公文推到一旁,靠在椅背上沉思起来……
房子里静悄悄的。夜深了,党委会的人都走了。区党委书记特罗菲莫夫刚才也走了,他是最后一个离开的。现在房子里只剩下保尔一个人。窗户上满是寒气凝成的奇异的霜花。
桌上摆着一盏煤油灯,炉子烧得很旺。保尔回想起不久以前的事情。八月间,铁路工厂团委委派他为团组织的负责人,随同抢修列车到叶卡捷琳诺斯拉夫去。直到深秋,这一百五十人的抢修队从一个车站到另一个车站,医治战争造成的创伤,清除毁坏的车辆。他们还经过锡涅利尼科沃到波洛吉这一段路线。这一带从前是马赫诺匪帮猖獗的地方,到处都有破坏和劫掠的痕迹。在古利亚伊——波列,他们花费一个星期的时间修复了石头筑成的水塔,用铁皮修补好炸坏的贮水箱。保尔是个电工,并不懂钳工技术,也没有干过这种活,但是他亲手用扳手拧紧的锈螺丝帽就不止上千个。
秋末冬初,列车把他们送回了工厂,大家欢迎这一百五十人返回车间……
在安娜房间里又常常可以看到保尔了。他额上的那条皱纹舒展开了,还时常可以听到他那富有感染力的笑声。
满身油污的弟兄们又可以在小组会上听到他讲过去的斗争故事了。他讲敢于造反的、被奴役的、衣衫褴褛的俄罗斯农民怎样试图推翻沙皇的宝座,讲斯捷潘·拉辛[拉辛(1671年卒),1667—1671年俄国农民起义领袖。——译者]和布加乔夫[布加乔夫(约1742—1775),1773—1775年俄国最大一次农民起义领袖。——译者]的起义。
有一天晚上,安娜那里又聚集了许多年轻人,保尔出人意外地戒掉了一种多年养成的不良嗜好。他几乎从小就抽烟,那天他却斩钉截铁地宣布:“我决不再抽烟了。”
这件事发生得很突然。开头有人说,习惯比人厉害,养成了就改不掉,抽烟就是个例子。这话引起了争论。保尔并没有参加争论,可是塔莉亚硬把他卷进来,要他谈谈自己的看法。他怎么想的,就怎么说了:“人应该支配习惯,而决不能让习惯支配人。不然的话,岂不要得出十分荒唐的结论吗?”
茨韦塔耶夫在角落里喊了起来:“话倒说得挺漂亮。柯察金就爱唱高调。要是戳穿他的牛皮,会怎么样呢?他本人抽不抽烟?抽。他知不知道抽烟没什么好处?也知道。那就戒掉吧——又没那么大能耐。前不久他还在小组会上‘宣传文明’呢。”说到这里,茨韦塔耶夫改变了腔调,冷嘲热讽地问:“让他回答大家,他还骂不骂人?
凡是认识柯察金的人都会说:骂是骂得少了,可是骂起来实在厉害。真是传教容易当圣徒难哪。”
接着是一阵沉默。茨韦塔耶夫这种挖苦人的腔调使大家很不愉快。保尔没有马上回答。他从嘴上慢慢拿下烟卷,揉碎了,然后轻声说:“我决不再抽烟了。”
沉默了一会儿,他又补充说:“这主要是为我自己,也多少是为了茨韦塔耶夫。要是一个人不能改掉坏习惯,那他就毫无价值。我还有个骂人的坏毛病。同志们,这个可耻的毛病我还没有完全克服掉,不过就连茨韦塔耶夫也承认很少听见我骂人了。话是容易脱口就说出来的,比不得抽烟,所以现在我还不能说这个毛病不会再犯了。但是我一定要把骂人的缺点也彻底克服掉。”
入冬以前流放下来的大量木排壅塞在河里。秋水泛滥,有些木排被冲散了,顺着河水往下漂去,眼看这些木头就要损失掉。于是索洛缅卡区又派出自己的共青团员去抢救这批珍贵的木材。
保尔当时正患重感冒,他不愿意落在大家后面,竭力瞒着同志们去参加劳动。一个星期以后,当码头两岸的木头已经堆积如山的时候,冰冷的河水和秋天的潮湿诱发了潜伏在他血液里的敌人——他发高烧了。一连两个星期,急性风湿病折磨着他的身体,他从医院回到工厂以后,只能“趴”在工作台上干活了。工长见了直摇头。过了几天,一个毫无偏见的委员会认定他已经丧失了劳动能力,于是让他退职,并给了他领取抚恤金的权利,但是他生气地拒绝领抚恤金。
保尔怀着沉重的心情离开了心爱的工厂。他拄着手杖,忍着剧烈的疼痛,慢慢地挪动着脚步。母亲曾经多次来信叫他回家去看看,现在他想起了老太太,想起了她在送别时说的话:“总要等你们生病了,受伤了,我才能见到你们。”
他到省委会领来两份组织关系证明书,一份是共青团的,一份是党的,卷在一起。为了不引起更多的痛苦,他几乎没有同任何人告别,就动身到母亲那里去了。一连两个星期,母亲又用草药熏,又按摩,医治他那两条肿腿。一个月以后,他走路已经不用手杖了。他内心充满了喜悦,黄昏又变为黎明。
列车把他送到了省城。三天以后,组织部给他开了一份介绍信到省军务部,由军务部分配他去担任地方武装的政治工作。
又过了一星期,他来到了这个冰天雪地的小镇,担任第二军训营的政委。共青团专区委员会又交给他一项任务,要他把分散的共青团员组织起来,在这个新区建立团组织。瞧,生活就是这样不断变化的。
外面很热。一支樱桃树枝从敞开的窗户外窥视着执委会主席的办公室。执委会对面是一座哥特式的波兰天主教教堂,太阳照得钟楼上的镀金十字架闪闪发亮。窗前小花园里,执委会看门人的妻子饲养的一群小鹅正在活泼地找寻食物,它们跟周围的小草一样,葱绿色,毛茸茸的,十分可爱。
执委会主席读完刚接到的紧急电报。他的脸上掠过一道阴影。他把骨节粗大的手指插进蓬松的鬈发里,停住不动了。
别列兹多夫执委会主席尼古拉·尼古拉耶维奇·利西岑今年才二十四岁,这一点,党内外同志都不知道。他魁梧,有力,为人严肃,有时候甚至很严厉,看上去足有三十五岁。他的身体结实,粗壮的脖子上长着一个大脑袋,深棕色的眼睛锐利而严峻,下颌的线条清晰有力。他穿着蓝马裤、“见过世面的”灰军装,左胸口袋上戴着一枚红旗勋章。
十月革命前,利西岑在图拉兵工厂“指挥”旋床。他的祖父、父亲和他自己,几乎都是从童年时代起,就在这个工厂里切铁、削铁。
可是有一年的一个秋夜,利西岑这个一直只管制造武器的工人,第一次拿起了武器,他从此就投身到大风暴中来了。
革命和党不断地把他投入一场又一场火热的斗争。这个图拉的军械匠走过了光荣的战斗道路,从一个普通的红军战士成长为团的指挥员和政委。
战火和炮声已经成为过去。现在,利西岑调到这个边境地区工作,生活过得很安宁。他常常工作到深夜,研究有关农作物收获情况的综合报告,而现在这份急电使他一瞬间仿佛又回到了战场。电文很简略,是这样的:绝密。别列兹多夫执委会主席利西岑。
近发现波兰频繁派遣大批匪徒越境,似拟骚扰边境地区。
希采取防范措施。财务科现款及贵重物品宜转移至专区,勿滞留税款。
从办公室的窗户里,利西岑可以看见每一个走进区执委会的人。他看见保尔走上了台阶。不一会儿,传来了敲门声。
“坐下吧,咱们谈谈。”利西岑握着保尔的手说。
整整一小时,执委会主席没有接见别的人。
保尔走出办公室的时候,已经是正午了。利西岑的小妹妹妞拉从花园里跑了出来。保尔管她叫小阿妞。这个小姑娘平时总是羞答答的,严肃得跟她的年龄完全不相称,但是一遇见保尔,就亲切地微笑着。这一回,她也是用小孩子的方式笨拙地跟保尔握了握手,一面把一绺短发从前额上甩开。
“我哥哥那儿没人了吧?我嫂子等他回去吃午饭,等了好一会儿了。”妞拉说。
“小阿妞,去找他吧,屋里就他一个人。”
第二天,离天亮还早,三辆大车套着肥壮的马匹,到了执委会门前。车上的人低声地交谈着。从财务科搬出来几只封口的麻袋,装上了车。几分钟后,公路上响起了车轮滚动的声音。保尔带领一队人在大车周围护卫。他们安全地到达了离小镇四十公里(其中有二十五公里是森林)的专区中心,把贵重物品转移到了专区财务处的保险柜里。几天以后,有一个骑兵从边界向别列兹多夫疾驰而来。镇上那些好看热闹的人都困惑不解地盯着这个骑兵和他那匹跑得满身是汗的马。
到了执委会门口,骑兵扑通一声跳下马来,他一只手扶着军刀,踏着笨重的马靴,咚咚地跑上了台阶。利西岑皱着眉头,接过他送来的公文,拆开来,在封袋上签了字。那个边防军人没容马缓口气,又跃上马鞍,立即沿原路跑回去了。
除了刚读过公文的执委会主席,谁也不知道它的内容。但是镇上的小市民嗅觉挺灵敏。当地的小商贩,三个人里面一定有两个是要搞点走私活动的,常干这种行当,使他们凭着本能就能预测到危险的临近。
人行道上有两个人急急忙忙向军训营营部走去。其中一个是保尔。当地居民全认识他:他总是带着枪。另外一个是区党委书记特罗菲莫夫,今天连他也扎起了武装带,别上了转轮手枪——这可就不妙了。
过了几分钟,营部里跑出来十五个人,手里端着上好刺刀的步枪,奔向十字路口的磨坊。其余的党团员也在党委会里武装起来。执委会主席戴着哥萨克羊皮帽,腰间照例挂着他的毛瑟枪,骑马跑了过去。显然是出了什么不寻常的事情,无论是广场,还是偏僻的小巷,一下子全都变得死一般的寂静——一个人也看不见了。转眼间,小铺的门都挂上了中世纪的大锁,护窗板也都关上了。只有那些无所畏惧的母鸡和热得懒洋洋的猪,还在垃圾堆上起劲地找东西吃。
在镇边的几个园子里设下了埋伏。再往前就是田野,公路笔直,可以看出去很远。
利西岑收到的情报很简短:昨夜骑匪一股约百余人,携轻机枪两挺,经交锋后,于波杜布齐地区窜入苏维埃国境。希即采取措施。匪徒于斯拉武塔林区消失。本日将有百名哥萨克红骑兵经别列兹多夫追击匪徒,特预先告知,切勿误会。
边防军独立营营长加夫里洛夫一小时以后,在通往别列兹多夫镇的大路上出现了一个骑马的人,在他身后一公里是一队骑兵。保尔聚精会神地注视着前方。骑马的人小心地走近了,但是并没有发现园子里有埋伏。这是红军哥萨克第七团的一名青年战士,做侦察工作还是个新手。园子里的人一下跳到路上,把他包围起来。他看见他们军便服上都佩戴着青年共产国际的徽章,不好意思地笑了。经过简短交谈,他又拨转马头,迎着行进中的骑兵队伍跑去。岗哨把红军哥萨克骑兵队放过去,又重新在那几个园子里埋伏下来。
几个动荡不安的日子过去了。利西岑接到通报说,匪徒企图进行破坏活动,未能得逞,在红军骑兵的追击下,已被迫仓皇逃出国境线。
这里的布尔什维克组织人数很少,全区才十九个人,他们正加紧进行苏维埃的建设工作。刚刚组建成的新区,一切都得从头做起。这一带是边境地区,他们时刻都得保持高度警惕。
改选苏维埃、剿匪、开展文化活动、缉私、加强部队里的党团工作——所有这些,使利西岑、特罗菲莫夫、保尔和团结在他们周围的为数不多的积极分子,常常从清晨一直忙到深夜。
白天,保尔一跳下马,就走向办公桌;离开办公桌,就到训练新兵的广场上去;又要去俱乐部,又要去学校,还得参加两三个会议。夜里,他又骑上马,挎上毛瑟枪,厉声喝问:“站住!什么人?”还监听越境走私的马车的辘辘声——第二军训营政委的白天和大多数夜晚就是这样度过的。
别列兹多夫共青团区委会由三个人组成:保尔、莉达·波列维赫和任卡·拉兹瓦利欣。莉达是妇女部长,小眼睛,出生在伏尔加河附近。拉兹瓦利欣是个挺漂亮的高个子青年,不久前还是中学生,他“年轻而早熟”,喜欢惊心动魄的冒险小说,熟悉歇洛克·福尔摩斯[英国作家柯南道尔(1859—1930)的侦探小说中的主人公。——译者]的侦探故事和路易·布斯纳[路易·布斯纳(1847—1910),法国作家,写过许多冒险小说和历史小说。——译者]的作品。他原来在一个区党委做行政干事,大约四个月以前才加入共青团,可是他在其他团员面前却总爱摆出“老布尔什维克”的架子。因为没有别的人可以派,专区党委经过长时间的考虑,才把他派到别列兹多夫来负责政治教育工作。
太阳升到了顶空。连最隐蔽的角落也被暑气占领了,所有的动物都躲到阴凉的地方,狗也趴到粮仓的墙根底下,热得懒洋洋地直打盹。所有的动物似乎都离开了这个村庄,只有一头猪躺在井边的水洼中,把身子埋在污泥里,怡然自得地哼哼着。
保尔解开缰绳,忍住膝盖的疼痛,咬着嘴唇跨上了马。女教员站在学校的台阶上,手搭凉棚,微笑着说:“再见,政委同志。”
马不耐烦地跺了一下蹄子,伸伸脖子,绷紧了缰绳。
“再见,拉基京娜同志。就这么决定了:明天您给上第一课。”
马感觉到缰绳松了,立刻小跑起来。就在这个时候,保尔听到身后传来一阵凄厉的号叫。只有村子里失火的时候,妇女们才会这样惨叫。保尔使劲一拉缰绳,马立刻转过身来。这时他看见一个年轻的农妇气急败坏地从村外跑来。拉基京娜走到路当中,拦住了她。附近各家也都有人跑到门口来,大多是老头和老太婆。年轻力壮的都下地了。
“哎呀!乡亲们哪,那边出事啦!哎呀,真不得了啊,真不得了啊!”
保尔驱马走到这些人跟前的时候,又有一些人从四面八方跑来。大家围着这个妇女,扯着她那白衬衫的袖子,惊慌地提出一大堆问题,但是她前言不搭后语,根本没法听懂。她只顾不住声地喊:“打死人啦!拿刀拼命啦!”这时,有个胡子乱蓬蓬的老头,一只手提着粗布裤子,笨拙地跳着跑过来,逼住那年轻女人:“别乱叫了!像个疯子似的!哪儿打起来了?为的是啥呀?
别吱哇乱叫啦!呸,真见鬼!”
“咱们村跟波杜布齐的人打起来了……为了地界呀!他们把咱们的人往死里打呀!”
大家这才明白是灾难临头了。街上立即响起了妇女们的尖叫声,老头们也都愤怒地喊起来。这消息像警钟似的,一下子传遍了整个村庄,传到了每个院子里:“波杜布齐的人强占地界,拿镰刀砍咱们的人哪!”凡是走得动的人都从家里冲出来,操起叉子、斧头,或者干脆从栅栏上拔根木桩,朝村外正在血战的田地里跑去。两村为了争地界,年年都发生械斗。
保尔狠狠地踢了一下马,马立刻飞跑起来。黑马被他的喊声催促着,赶过了奔跑的人群,飞也似的向前冲去。它把耳朵紧贴在头上,四脚腾空,越跑越快。高冈上有一座风车,向四面张开它的翅膀,好像是伸出手来要挡住他的去路。风车右方,高冈下面的河旁,是一片草地。向左是一望无际的、随着山坡起伏的麦田。风从成熟的黑麦上面掠过,他用手抚摩它一样。路旁的罂粟开着鲜艳的红花。这里静悄悄的,热得难以忍受。只是从远处,从高冈下面,从那条好像在阳光下取暖的银蛇似的小河那里,传来了喊叫声。
马朝高冈下面的草地疯狂地飞奔过去。“马脚只要绊一下,我和它准得完蛋。”保尔脑子里闪过了这么一个念头。但是马已经勒不住了,他只好紧贴着马脖子,听任风在耳边呼呼响。
马发疯似的奔到了草地上。一群人正在这里像没有理性的野兽一样凶猛地厮杀。好几个人已经倒在地上,满身是血。
马的胸脯撞倒了一个大胡子。他正举着一截芟刀把,追赶一个满脸是血的小伙子。旁边一个晒得黝黑的、结实的农民把对手打倒在地,用沉重的靴子狠命踹他,想把他一下子置于死地。
保尔策马闯进正在厮杀的人群,把他们冲开。没容他们弄清是怎么回事,他就疯狂地催着马,横冲直撞,朝野兽一般的人们冲过去;他觉得要驱散这伙打红了眼的人群,只有用同样野蛮而可怕的办法。他狂怒地大喊:“散开,你们这些野兽!我把你们统统枪毙,你们这些强盗!”
接着,他从皮套子里拔出枪,在一个满脸杀气的人的头顶上挥了一下,纵马一扑,开了一枪。有些人扔下镰刀,转身逃走了。保尔就这样一面狂怒地驱马在草地上奔驰,一面不断地开枪,他终于达到了目的。人们离开草地四散逃跑了,一来是为了逃避责任,二来也是为了躲开这个不知从哪里冒出来的恶狠狠的凶神和他那支连连射击的“瘟枪”。
不久,区法院的人来到了波杜布齐。人民审判员调查了好长时间,传讯了见证人,但是始终没有查出祸首来。这场械斗没有出人命,受伤的也都复原了。审判员以布尔什维克的耐心,竭力向站在他面前的愁眉苦脸的农民说明,他们这场械斗是野蛮的和违法的。
“审判员同志,全怪地界,我们的地界给搞乱了!每年都为这个打架。”
但是有几个人还是受到了惩罚。
一星期之后,丈量队走遍了刈草场,在双方有争议的地方钉上了木桩。一个上了年纪的丈量员,因为天热,又走了许多路,弄得汗流浃背,他一边卷着软尺,一边对保尔说:“丈量土地,我干了三十年了,到处都为地界闹纠纷。您看看这些草地的分界线,像个什么样子!拐来拐去的,就是醉鬼走路也比它直。再说那些耕地,一块地也就三步宽,全是插花地,要分清楚,简直会把你气疯了。就是这么小块的地,还在一年一年地分下去,越分越小。儿子跟父亲一分家——一小块地又分成两半。我向您担保,再过二十年,这些地就全都会变成地界,再也没地方下种了。现在就已经有十分之一的耕地成了地界。”
保尔笑着说:“再过二十年,咱们就连一条地界也没有了,丈量员同志。”
老头温厚地看了看对方。
“您说的是共产主义吧?不过,您知道,那个社会还远着呢。”
“您听说过布达诺夫卡集体农庄吗?”
“啊,您指的是这个呀!”
“是啊。”
“布达诺夫卡我去过……那只是个别情况,柯察金同志。”
丈量队在继续丈量土地。两个小伙子钉木桩。原先的地界还勉强可以看得出来,不过只剩下露在草地上的稀稀落落的几根烂木头了。刈草场两边站着许多农民,他们瞪眼监视着,一定要把木桩钉在原先的那个地界上。
赶车的是个嘴闲不住的人,他用鞭杆子抽了一下瘦弱的辕马,转过身来对坐在车上的人说:“谁知道是怎么回事,我们这儿也搞起共青团来了。早先可没这玩意儿。这些事看样子都是那个老师兴起来的,她姓拉基京娜,说不定,你们认识她吧?她还挺年轻,可真是个害人精。她把村里的娘们全都鼓动起来了,把她们召集到一块,搞了不少名堂,弄得大家都不得安生。气头上给老婆一个耳刮子,这是常有的事,老婆不揍哪行啊!早先,她们只好揉揉脸,不敢吭声。现在你还没碰她一下,早吵翻了天。说是要上人民法院去告你,年轻一点的,还会跟你闹离婚,给你背法律条文。就拿我那口子甘卡来说吧,她本来是个不爱吱声的女人,现在也当上代表了。大概是管老娘们的头头吧。
全村都来找她。开头,我真想拿马缰绳抽她一顿,后来一想,我才不管她呢。让她们见鬼去吧!让她们瞎吵吵去吧!要说管家务什么的,我那口子倒是个好样的。”
赶车的搔了搔从麻布衬衫领口露出来的毛茸茸的胸脯,又习惯地在辕马的肚子上抽了一鞭子。车上坐的是拉兹瓦利欣和莉达。他们到波杜布齐去,各有各的事:莉达要开妇女代表会,拉兹瓦利欣是去安排团支部的工作。
“怎么,难道您不喜欢共青团员吗?”莉达开玩笑地问那个赶车的。
赶车的摸摸胡子,不慌不忙地回答:“不,哪儿的话呢……年轻的时候可以玩玩,演个戏呀什么的。滑稽戏,要是演得真好,我自己就很喜欢看。我们起先以为孩子们准是胡闹,可是正好相反。听人说,像喝酒、耍流氓这些事他们都管得挺严。他们多半是学习。就是老反对上帝,想把教堂改成俱乐部。这可办不到,老年人为了这个都斜着眼睛看这些团员,对他们挺不满意。别的还有啥呢?有一件事他们办得不怎么样:光要那些啥也没有的穷棒子,要那些当长工的,再不就是一点家业也没有的人。有钱人家的孩子一个也不要。”
马车下了山坡,到了学校跟前。
看门的女工把两个客人安顿在她屋里,自己到干草棚里去睡了。莉达和拉兹瓦利欣开会开晚了,刚刚回来。屋子里黑糊糊的。莉达脱下皮鞋,爬到床上,立刻睡着了。但是拉兹瓦利欣的手粗鲁而又不怀好意地触到她身上,把她惊醒了。
“你想干什么?”
“小点声,莉达,你喊什么?你明白,我一个人就这么躺着怪闷的,真受不了!你难道就想不出比打呼噜更好玩的事吗?”
“把手拿开,马上给我滚下床去!”莉达推了他一下。她本来就十分厌恶拉兹瓦利欣那猥亵的笑脸。现在她真想痛骂他一顿,挖苦他一顿,但是她很困,就又闭上了眼睛。
“你拿什么架子?你以为这样才合乎知识分子的身份吗?
你该不会是贵族女子学校毕业的吧?你以为这么一来,我真的就信你的了?别装傻了。要是你真懂事,就该先满足我的要求,然后你要睡多久都随便。”
他认为用不着再多费口舌,从长凳上起来,又坐到了莉达床沿上,自说自话地伸手就去扳她的肩膀。
“滚蛋!”她立刻又惊醒了。“老实跟你说,这件事我明天非告诉柯察金不可。”
拉兹瓦利欣抓住她的胳膊,恼怒地低声说:“我才不在乎你那个柯察金呢。你别固执了,反正你得依我的。”
他们之间发生了短促的搏斗,静静的屋子里发出了清脆的耳光声——一下,又一下……拉兹瓦利欣向旁边一闪,莉达摸黑冲到门边,推开门跑了出去。她站在月光下,简直气疯了。
“进屋来,傻瓜!”拉兹瓦利欣恨恨地喊了一声。
他只好把自己用的铺盖搬到屋檐下面,在外面过夜。莉达关上门,上了闩,蜷缩成一团,躺在床上。
早晨,在回镇的路上,拉兹瓦利欣坐在赶车的老头旁边,一支接一支地抽烟,心里直嘀咕:“看来,这个碰不得的女人十有八九会去告诉柯察金。真是个酸溜溜的洋娃娃!长得倒挺漂亮,可就是一点人情都不懂。我得跟她来软的,不然,准会倒霉。柯察金本来就瞧不起我。”
拉兹瓦利欣凑到莉达跟前坐下,装出一副难为情的样子,眼神甚至有点忧郁。他编了一套不能自圆其说的理由为自己辩解,表示他已经悔悟了。
拉兹瓦利欣终于达到了目的:快进镇的时候,莉达答应不把昨天夜里的事告诉任何人。
共青团的支部一个接一个地在边境各村建立起来。团区委的干部为共产主义运动的这些幼芽付出了很多心血。保尔和莉达整天在这些村子里活动。
拉兹瓦利欣不愿意下乡。他跟那些农村小伙子合不来,得不到他们的信任,常常把事情搞糟。莉达和保尔平易近人,很自然地就和那些青年打成了一片。莉达把姑娘们团结在自己周围,交了好多知心朋友,并且同她们保持着联系,不露声色地培养她们对共青团生活和工作的兴趣。全区的青年都认识保尔。第二军训营负责对一千六百名即将应征入伍的青年进行军事训练。在各村的晚会上,在大街上,手风琴对宣传工作的开展起到了前所未有的作用。手风琴使保尔同青年们成了“一家人”。手风琴奏起快速的进行曲,热烈而动人;奏起忧郁的乌克兰民歌,亲切而温柔。许多乌克兰农村青年就是在这迷人的琴声引导下,走上了共青团的道路。大家倾听着保尔的演奏,也倾听着这位工人出身的政委兼共青团书记的讲话。琴声和年轻政委的话语在他们的心中和谐地融合在一起。村子里开始听到新的歌曲了,各家除了祷告用的赞美诗集和圆梦的书籍以外,又出现了别的书。
走私者的处境越来越困难了。他们要提防的已经不只是边防人员,因为苏维埃政权现在有了许多年轻的朋友和热心的助手。边境各村团支部的同志由于一心想亲手捉住敌人,有时甚至把事情做过了头。碰到这种情况,保尔就不得不出面援救他们。有一次,波杜布齐村团支部书记格里沙·霍罗沃季科——一个性子急、爱辩论的蓝眼睛小伙子,反宗教的积极分子——通过他自己的特殊途径得到线索,说夜里将有一批私货运交村里的磨坊老板。于是他就把全支部的同志都动员起来,带上一支教练枪和两把刺刀,由他领着,当夜就小心翼翼地包围了磨坊,等待野兽落网。国家政治保安部的边境哨所也掌握了有关这次走私的情况,并且设下了埋伏。双方在夜间发生了误会,多亏保安人员沉着冷静,共青团员在格斗中才没有伤亡。他们只是被解除了武装,送到四公里外的邻村里关了起来。
保尔当时正在加夫里洛夫营长那里。第二天早上,营长把刚接到的报告告诉了他,于是他赶紧骑马去搭救同志们。
当地保安机关的负责人笑着把昨天夜里发生的事件告诉了他。
“咱们这么办吧,柯察金同志。他们都是好小伙子,我们不能委屈他们。不过,为了叫他们往后不再包办我们的任务,你不妨吓唬吓唬他们。”
卫兵打开板棚的门,十一个小伙子从地上站了起来。他们显得很难为情,两只脚不安地倒换着,站在那里。保安机关负责人两手一摊,做出毫无办法的样子,说:“你瞧瞧他们吧。闯了这么大的祸,我只好把他们押送到专区去。”
格里沙一听就激动起来,说:“萨哈罗夫同志,我们干什么坏事啦?我们只是想给苏维埃政权出点力。我们早就盯住这帮富农了,可是你们倒把我们当强盗关起来。”说完,他委屈地扭过身子去。
保尔和萨哈罗夫好不容易板着面孔,进行了严肃的交涉以后,才停止了这场“吓唬”。
“要是你给他们担保,今后不再到边界上走动,而采取其他方式协助我们,我就客客气气地释放他们。”萨哈罗夫对保尔说。
“好吧,我担保。我相信他们是不会再让我下不了台的。”
这个支部全体十一名团员一路上唱着歌,回到了波杜布齐。发生的事情没有张扬出去。不久,那个磨坊老板终于落网了。这一次是依法逮捕的。
德国移民们住在迈丹维拉一带的森林庄园里,过着优裕的生活。这些富农的庄园彼此相距半公里,房子盖得很坚固,加上各种附属建筑物,像一座座小小的堡垒。安托纽克匪帮就在迈丹维拉藏形匿迹。安托纽克过去是沙皇军队里的司务长,后来搜罗一些亲友,拼凑了一个“七人帮”,在附近的大道上持枪行劫。他们杀人不眨眼,既不轻饶投机商人,也不放过苏维埃政府的工作人员。安托纽克行踪诡秘。今天干掉两个农村合作社的工作人员,明天又在二十公里以外解除一个邮递员的武装,把他抢个精光。安托纽克和另一个土匪头子戈尔季竞赛,他们两个一个比一个坏。专区警察局和国家政治保安部在他们身上费了不少时间。安托纽克就在别列兹多夫镇附近活动,因此,进城的道路都很不安全。这个匪首确实不容易捕获:风声一紧,他就溜到国境线外去躲避,过后又出其不意地回来作案。每当听到这个出没无常的害人虫又出来行凶作恶,利西岑就烦躁得直咬嘴唇。
“这条毒蛇还要咬我们多久呢?畜生,等着吧,我一定要亲手抓住他!”他咬牙切齿地说。有两次,利西岑抓住了线索,立即带着保尔和另外三个共产党员跟踪追捕,但是,这个土匪还是逃脱了。
专区给别列兹多夫镇派来一支剿匪队,领队的是个讲究穿戴的小伙子,叫菲拉托夫。按照边防条例的规定,他本来应当先向区执行委员会主席报到,可是这个傲慢得像只小公鸡的家伙却认为这样做没有必要,自作主张,就把队伍开到了附近的谢马基村。夜间进村后,他们在村头的房子里住下了。这一伙全副武装、行动隐蔽的陌生人,引起了隔壁一个共青团员的注意,他立刻跑去报告村苏维埃主席。村苏维埃主席也丝毫不了解这支队伍的来历,把他们当成了土匪,急忙派这个团员骑马到区里去报信。菲拉托夫干的这桩蠢事差一点断送了许多人的性命。利西岑刚一得到关于“匪情”的报告,连夜集合民警,带了十几个人,骑马奔向谢马基村。他飞一样来到村头,跳下马,翻过篱笆,直向那座房子扑去。房门口的哨兵头部挨了一枪托,像一口袋东西一样倒下了。利西岑跑过来,使劲用肩膀一拱,房门就开了,他行随即冲了进去。房间里天花板下挂着一盏灯,灯光暗淡。利西岑一只手举起手榴弹,准备投掷,另一只手紧握着毛瑟枪,他大喝一声,震得玻璃直响:“投降!要不就把你们炸个稀烂!”
睡得迷迷糊糊的人们全从地板上跳了起来,一看到利西岑拿着手榴弹的那个杀气腾腾的架势,马上举起手来。再迟一秒钟,冲进来的人们也许就要开枪射击了。又过了一会儿,当这一小队俘虏只穿着内衣被赶到院子里的时候,菲拉托夫看见了利西岑胸前的勋章,这才敢开口说话。
利西岑气得发疯,狠狠啐了一口,十分轻蔑地骂道:“脓包!”
德国革命的消息传到区里来了。汉堡巷战的枪声传到了这里。边境上的人都激动起来。人们紧张地期待着,一遍又一遍地阅读报上的消息。十月革命的风暴也在西方刮起来了。
申请参加红军的志愿书像雪片一样,不断送到团区委会来。保尔花了不少时间同各团支部派来的代表谈话,向他们解释,苏维埃国家执行的是和平政策,现在不想跟任何邻国打仗。但是,这种说服工作并没有起多大作用。每逢星期天,各支部的团员都到镇上来,在从前神甫家的大花园里举行全区团员大会。有一天中午,波杜布齐村共青团支部全体团员排着队,迈着整齐的步伐来到区委大院。保尔从窗口看见了他们,立即到台阶上去迎他们。以格里沙为首的十一个小伙子,穿着长统靴子,背着大口袋,在门口站住了。
“这是怎么回事,格里沙?”保尔吃惊地问。
格里沙给他使了个眼色,两个人一起进了屋。莉达、拉兹瓦利欣和另外两个共青团员马上围过来。格里沙关好门,严肃地皱起他那淡淡的眉毛,说:“同志们,我这是要考验考验我们的战斗力。今天早上,我对我们支部的团员说:区里来了一份电报,当然是绝密的;电报上说,咱们跟德国资本家打起来了,跟波兰地主很快也要打。莫斯科来了命令,所有的团员都要上前线。谁害怕,不敢去,只要写个申请书,就可以留在家里。我命令他们,打仗的事谁也不准告诉,让他们每人带一个大面包和一块腌肉,没有腌肉的就带点蒜或者葱头,一个钟头以后在村外秘密集合。先开到区里,然后再到专区,在那儿领武器。我这一宣布,可真灵。他们马上向我问这问那,我告诉他们:没什么说的,就这么办!谁不去,就写个申请书。这次去打仗是自愿的。大伙一散,我心里就犯了嘀咕:要是谁也不来,可怎么办呢?我就只好解散支部,自己一走了事。我坐在村外瞅着。他们真的一个个来了。有的人脸上眼泪还没干,但是竭力不让别人看出来。十个人全来了,没一个临阵脱逃的。你们看,我们波杜布齐支部怎么样!”格里沙兴高采烈地把话说完,得意地用拳头捶了一下胸脯。
莉达非常生气,狠狠训了他一顿。他莫名其妙地看着她,说:“你说些什么呀?这可是最好的考验!这样才能真正看透每一个人。为了搞得更像样一点,我本来打算把他们拉到专区去,但是,小伙子们都累了,让他们回家去吧。不过,保尔,你一定得给他们讲讲话,要不,这算怎么回事呢?不讲话是不行的……你就说,动员令已经撤销。他们表现得很英勇,值得表扬。”
保尔很少到专区中心去,往返一次要好几天时间,而区里的工作又一天也离不开他。拉兹瓦利欣却一有机会就往城里跑。每进一次城,他都从头到脚武装起来,把自己暗自比作库柏[库柏(1789—1851),美国作家。他的主要作品《皮袜子小说集》的主人公是个喜欢探险的猎人。——译者]小说里的主人公。他非常喜欢这样的旅行。进了林子,他就开枪打打乌鸦或者机灵的小松鼠。遇见单身的行人,就拦住人家盘问一番,好像他真是个侦查员似的,问人家是干什么的,从哪里来,到哪里去。到了离城不远的地方,他就收起武器,把步枪往干草堆里一塞,手枪装到衣袋里,和平常一样,走进专区团委会。
“说说吧,你们别列兹多夫有什么新闻?”费多托夫问他。
专区团委书记费多托夫的办公室里,人总是满满的。大家都抢着说话。在这样的环境里工作,要能同时听四个人说话,手写着东西,还回答第五个人的问题。费多托夫非常年轻,可是一九一九年就入党了。只有在大动荡的时期,一个十五岁的青年才能入党。
对费多托夫的问题,拉兹瓦利欣漫不经心地回答说:“新闻有的是,一下子说不完。我从早到晚忙得团团转。
所有的漏洞都得去堵,白手起家嘛,什么都得从头干。我又新建立了两个支部。叫我来有什么事情吗?”他大模大样地在圈椅上坐了下来。
经济部部长克雷姆斯基正在忙着处理一堆公文,回过头来看了一下。
“我们叫的是柯察金,并没叫你来。”
拉兹瓦利欣喷了一口浓烟,说:“柯察金不愿意到这儿来,连这种差事也得我替他干……有些书记当得可真舒服,一点活也不干,光拿像我这样的人当驴使唤。柯察金一去边境,就是两三个星期,他不在,所有的工作都得我来干。”
拉兹瓦利欣很明显是要别人意识到,只有他当团委书记才最合适。
“我不怎么喜欢这个傲慢的家伙。”拉兹瓦利欣走后,费多托夫直率地对团委会的其他同志说。
拉兹瓦利欣的鬼把戏是无意中被拆穿的。有一天,利西岑顺便到费多托夫那里去取信件。不论谁到区里去,都要把大家的信件捎回来。费多托夫和利西岑谈了很长时间,这样拉兹瓦利欣就被揭穿了。
“不过,你还是让柯察金来一趟,我们这儿的人还不大认识他呢。”利西岑临走的时候,费多托夫对他这样说。
“好吧,不过咱们把话说在前头:你们可不能把他调走。这我们是坚决不能同意的。”
这一年,边境上庆祝十月革命节的活动搞得空前热烈。保尔被选为边境各村庆祝十月革命节委员会主任。在波杜布齐村开完庆祝大会之后,三个村子的男女农民五千多人,以军训营和乐队为前导,排成长达半公里的游行队伍,举着鲜艳的红旗,浩浩荡荡地走出村去,向边境前进。他们秩序井然,纪律严明,沿着界桩在苏维埃国土上游行,到那些被苏波国界分成两半的村庄去。边境上的波兰人从来没有见过这样的场面。边防军营长加夫里洛夫和保尔骑马走在最前头。他们背后,铜号奏出的乐曲声、风卷红旗的哗啦声和此伏彼起的歌声响成了一片。青年农民都穿着节日的盛装。少女们银铃般的笑声远远地传向四方。成年人表情严肃,老年人神态庄重。这股人流像一条大河,奔向目力所及的远方,国境线就是这条河的堤岸,他们寸步不离苏维埃的国土,没有一只脚跨过这条严禁逾越的国界。保尔停下来,人的洪流从他身旁涌过。队伍中正唱着《共青团之歌》:
……
从西伯利亚的森林,
到不列颠的海滨,
最强大的力量
是我们的红军。
紧接着,是女声合唱:
嗨,那边山上收割忙……
苏维埃哨兵用愉快的微笑欢迎这支游行队伍,波兰哨兵看见游行队伍却感到惶恐不安。这次游行虽然早已通知了波兰指挥机关,但是仍然引起了对方的惊慌。一队队骑马的战地宪兵四处巡逻。岗哨比平时增加了四倍,谷地里隐蔽着后备队,以应付可能出现的事变,但是,游行队伍始终走在自己的国土上,是那样欢快而热闹,空气里充满了他们的歌声。
小土冈上站着一个波兰哨兵,游行队伍迈着整齐的步伐过来了。乐队奏起了进行曲。波兰哨兵立刻从肩上卸下枪,贴在脚边,行了一个注目礼。保尔清楚地听见一句波兰话:“公社万岁!”
看那哨兵的眼睛就知道,这句话是他说的。保尔目不转睛地看着他。
是朋友!他那士兵大衣里面跳动着的是一颗同情游行群众的心。于是,保尔用波兰话轻声回答:“同志,向你致敬!”
哨兵落在后面了。游行队伍从他面前经过的时候,他始终保持着持枪立正的姿势。保尔几次回过头去,看到他那小小的黑色身影。前面又是一个波兰哨兵,花白胡子,四角帽镶着镍边,帽檐下露出一双呆滞无光的眼睛。保尔刚才听到那句话,激动的心情还没有消失。这回他首先开了口,仿佛是自言自语一样,用波兰话说:“你好,同志!”
但是,没有得到回答。
加夫里洛夫微微一笑。原来,两次说话他全都听见了。
“你要求太高了。”他说。“这儿除了普通步兵,还有宪兵。
你看见他袖子上的标志了吗?他是个宪兵。”
游行队伍的排头已经开始下坡,朝一个被国界分成两半的村庄走去。苏维埃这半边作好了隆重欢迎客人的准备。所有的人都集合在界河上的小桥旁边。男女青年排成队,站在路两旁。在波兰那半边,房顶和板棚顶上都站满了人,他们全神贯注地看着河这岸发生的事情。还有一群群农民站在门口和篱笆旁边。当游行队伍走进夹道欢迎的人群的时候,乐队奏起《国际歌》。许多人在一个临时搭成的、装饰着绿色枝叶的台子上发表了动人的演说,讲话的有年纪很轻的小青年,也有白发苍苍的老人。保尔也用他的本民族语言——乌克兰语讲了话,他的话飞过界河,传到了对岸。波方唯恐这个讲话打动人心,于是决定采取措施。他们出动了宪兵队,骑着马在村子里横冲直撞,用鞭子把人们赶回屋里去,还朝屋顶上开枪。
街上没有人了。青年人也被枪弹从屋顶上赶跑了。这一切,苏维埃这一边的人全看得清清楚楚。他们皱起了眉头。这时,一位老羊倌在小伙子们的搀扶下登上了讲台,他抑制不住内心的愤慨,激动地说:“好哇,瞧瞧吧,孩子们!他们从前就是这样打我们的。现在咱们村子里,当官的拿皮鞭子抽庄稼人这样的事,再也没有了。地主老爷完蛋了,咱们背上也就不再挨鞭子了。孩子们,你们可要牢牢地掌好这个权哪。我老了,不会讲话,可是心里想说的话很多。在沙皇那个时候,我们像老牛拉车那样,受了一辈子苦,看着那边的老百姓,我心里可真难受哇!……”他向对岸挥了一下他那干瘦的手,放声大哭起来,只有小孩子和老年人才会这样哭。
接着,格里沙上台发言。加夫里洛夫一边听着他那愤怒的讲话,一边掉转马头,仔细观察对岸是不是有人记录。但是,对岸空荡荡的,连桥头的岗哨都撤走了。
“这次大概不会向外交人民委员部发抗议照会了。”他开玩笑地说。
十一月底,一个阴雨的秋夜,安托纽克和他的“七人帮”总算是恶贯满盈了。这一窝豺狼在迈丹维拉一个富裕移民家里参加婚礼,被赫罗林的党团员们擒获,落入了法网。
妇女们的闲谈,把这些客人来参加婚礼的消息泄漏了出去。赫罗林的党团员一共有十二个人,立刻集合,谁有什么武器就带什么武器,坐上马车,奔向迈丹维拉庄园。同时,派人骑马飞速到别列兹多夫报信。报信人在谢马基村碰上了菲拉托夫的剿匪队,菲拉托夫随即带领人马,朝迈丹维拉扑去。
赫罗林的党团员已经把那个庄园围住,并且同安托纽克匪帮接上了火。安托纽克和他的喽罗们躲在一间小厢房里,一看见有人露头,就开枪射击。他们突然冲出厢房,妄想突围,但是,赫罗林的党团员撂倒一个匪徒,把他们压了回去。安托纽克陷入这样的困境已经不是头一回,但是每次都靠手榴弹和黑夜帮忙,安全逃脱。这一次,差一点又让他逃走。赫罗林支部已经牺牲了两个人,幸好菲拉托夫及时赶到。安托纽克一看就明白:这回是陷入了绝境,再也跑不掉了。他整夜都从厢房的各个窗口向外射击,直到天亮才被抓住。“七人帮”中没有人投降。为了消灭这窝豺狼,有四个人献出了生命,其中三个是成立不久的赫罗林共青团支部的团员。
保尔的军训营奉命参加地方部队的秋季演习。他们冒着倾盆大雨到四十公里以外的一个师的营地去。一清早出发,深夜才到达,整整走了一天。这次行军,只有营长古谢夫和政委柯察金骑马。八百个即将应征入伍的青年一到营房,倒下就睡了。师部给这个营的调集令下达晚了,第二天早晨就要开始演习。他们这个营要接受检阅。全营在操场上整好了队。
不久,师部来了几个骑马的人。这个军训营已经领到服装和步枪,现在面貌一新了。营长古谢夫和政委柯察金两人为训练这支队伍花了不少心血和时间,因此信心十足。当正式检阅完毕,军训营做完变换队形的表演之后,一个面孔漂亮,但皮肉松弛的指挥员厉声问保尔:“你为什么骑马?我们普及军训部队的营级指挥员和政委不应该骑马。我命令您把马送回马棚去,徒步参加演习。”
保尔知道,自己那两条腿连一公里也走不了,不骑马就不能参加演习。这种情况对这位系着十来条各种皮带的大喊大叫的花花公子该怎么说呢?
“我不骑马就不能参加演习。”
“为什么?”
保尔明白,没有别的法子解释他拒绝步行的理由,只好低声说:“我的两条腿全肿了,连走带跑一个星期,我实在做不到。此外,同志,我还不知道您是什么人。”
“我是你们团的参谋长,这是一。第二,我再一次命令您下马。如果您是个残废,我可没叫您在部队里工作,这不能怪我。”
保尔好像挨了一鞭子,他猛地一抖缰绳。但是,古谢夫那只坚强有力的手阻止了他。保尔受到这样的侮辱,忍不住要发作,同时他又竭力克制自己,内心斗争了好几分钟。现在的保尔已经不是从前那个任性地从一个部队跳到另一个部队的普通战士了。他现在是营政治委员,全营战士就站在他身后。他自己的行动会给全营树立什么样的服从军纪的榜样呢!况且他担任部队的训练工作,又不是为这个花花公子干的。想到这里,他离镫下马,忍着剧烈的关节疼痛,朝队伍的右翼走去。
一连几天都是难得的好天气。演习快要结束了。这次演习的终点是舍佩托夫卡,第五天他们就在这一带进行演习。别列兹多夫营奉命从克里缅托维奇村方面攻占车站。
保尔十分熟悉这一带的地形,他把所有的途径都告诉了古谢夫。全营分成两路,深入迂回,秘密地绕到“敌人”后面,然后出其不意地高喊“乌拉”,冲进了车站。根据评判员的评定,这一仗打得非常漂亮。车站已经被别列兹多夫营占领,防守车站的那个营“损失”一半人员,后撤到林子里去了。
保尔负责指挥半个营。他和三连的连长、指导员正站在街心,布置兵力。一个战士跑到他们跟前,大口喘着气,向保尔报告:“政委同志,营长问,道口是不是都有机枪把守。评判委员会马上就到。”
保尔和连长向道口走去。
团部的人都已经到达那里了。他们祝贺古谢夫作战成功。
战败的那个营的代表们羞愧不安地站在那里,一点也不打算替自己辩护。
“这不是我的功劳,柯察金是本地人,是他给我们领的路。”
参谋长骑着马走到保尔跟前,讥讽地说:“同志,您的腿跑得挺不错嘛,看来,您完全是为了出风头才骑马的吧?”他本想再说两句,一看柯察金眼神不对,才把话咽了下去。
团部的人走后,保尔悄悄问古谢夫:“你知道不,他姓什么?”
古谢夫拍了一下他的肩膀,说:“算了,别理这个骗子。他姓丘扎宁,革命前好像是个准尉。”
保尔似乎在什么地方听到过这个名字,这一天他几次竭力回想,还是没有想起来。
演习结束了。军训营以优异的成绩获得好评,返回别列兹多夫,可是保尔的身体却累垮了。他在母亲身边住了两天。
马就拴在阿尔焦姆家里。他每天都睡十二个小时。第三天,他到机车库去找阿尔焦姆。这座熏黑了的厂房,使保尔倍感亲切。他使劲吸了一下煤烟的气味。这气味对他有强烈的吸引力,因为他从小闻惯了这种气味,他是在这种气味中长大的,和它结了缘。保尔好像丢了什么宝贵的东西似的。他已经好久没有听见火车头的叫声了。一个水手,每次久别归来,看到碧蓝的茫茫大海,止不住会心潮澎湃。保尔现在的心情也是这样。机车库的亲切气氛吸引着他,召唤着这个往日的火夫和电工。他十分激动,久久不能平静。他跟阿尔焦姆没有谈多少话。他发现哥哥的额上又添了一道皱纹。阿尔焦姆在一座移动式锻工炉前面干活。他已经有了第二个孩子,看样子生活很困难,虽然阿尔焦姆不说,但是情况是明摆着的。
兄弟俩一起干了两个来小时活,就分手了。保尔在道口上勒住马,望着车站,看了很久,然后朝黑马抽了一鞭,在林间的路上飞跑起来。
现在在森林里走路已经没有什么危险了。布尔什维克肃清了大大小小的匪帮,捣毁了他们的巢穴,这一带的乡村里也太平多了。
保尔回到别列兹多夫,已经是中午了。莉达高兴地在区委会门口的台阶上迎接他。
“你可回来了!你不在,我们都寂寞死了。”莉达把手搭在他肩膀上,同他一起走进屋里。
“拉兹瓦利欣呢?”保尔一边脱大衣,一边问她。
莉达有点不愿意回答:“不知道。哦,我想起来了!他早上说要到学校去替你上政治课。他说这是他份内的事,不是柯察金的事。”
这消息使保尔感到奇怪,也很不痛快。他一向不喜欢拉兹瓦利欣。“这家伙到学校里去搞什么名堂?”保尔不高兴地想。
“去就去吧。你说说,这儿有什么好消息。你到格鲁舍夫卡去过了吗?那儿同志们的情况怎么样?”
保尔坐在沙发上休息,活动着他那疲倦的双腿。莉达把最近的情况全告诉了他。
“前天批准了拉基京娜做预备党员。这样,我们波杜布齐支部就更强了。拉基京娜是个好姑娘,我很喜欢她。你瞧,教师们已经开始转变,他们有的人完全站到咱们这边来了。”
利西岑、保尔和新到的区党委书记雷奇科夫三个人,晚上常常在利西岑家围着大桌子坐到深夜。
卧室的门关着,小阿妞和利西岑的妻子早已睡着了,他们三个人还坐在桌子跟前,低头读一本不太厚的书。只有夜里利西岑才有时间读书。保尔下乡回来,晚上就到利西岑家里来学习,他看到他们两个人学到前面去了,心里挺难过。
有一天,从波杜布齐传来了噩耗:格里沙夜里被人暗杀了。保尔一听到这个消息,马上跑了出去。他忘记了腿疼,几分钟就跑到执委会的马厩,以疯狂的速度鞴好马,一跨上去,就用皮鞭左右抽打,朝边界飞驰而去。
在村苏维埃宽敞的屋子里,格里沙的尸体停放在饰着绿色枝叶的桌子上,身上覆盖着红旗。屋门口有一个边防军战士和一个共青团员站岗,在上级负责人到来之前,不许任何人进去。保尔进了屋,走到桌子跟前,掀开了红旗。
格里沙躺在那里,头歪向一旁,脸像蜡一样苍白,眼睛睁得很大,还保持着临死前的痛苦表情。后脑勺被锐利的凶器击破,现在用云杉枝遮掩着。
是谁杀害了这个青年呢?他是独生子,母亲是个寡妇,父亲从前给磨坊老板当长工,后来成了村贫民委员会委员,在革命中牺牲了。
老母亲一听说儿子死了,立刻昏倒在地。邻居们正在救护这位人事不省的老人,可是他的儿子却默默地躺在那里,保守着他的死亡之谜。
格里沙的死震动了全村。这个年轻的团支部书记、贫苦农民的保卫者,在村子里的朋友要比敌人多得多。
拉基京娜为格里沙遇害感到非常伤心。她躺在自己的房间里痛哭,保尔走进来的时候,她连头都没有抬。
“拉基京娜,你看是谁下的毒手?”保尔沉重地坐在椅子上,低声问她。
“不会是别人,准是磨坊老板那一伙人,因为是格里沙卡着那帮走私贩的脖子,叫他们出不来气。”
两个村子的人都参加了格里沙的葬礼。保尔带来了他的军训营,全体团员都来给自己的同志送葬。二百五十名边防军战士在加夫里洛夫指挥下,列队站在村苏维埃前面的广场上。在悲壮的哀乐声中,人们抬出了覆盖着红旗的棺材,把它安放在广场上新挖好的墓穴前,旁边是国内战争中牺牲的布尔什维克游击队员们的坟墓。
格里沙流的血使他生前努力保护的那些人更团结了。贫苦的青年们和贫苦的村民们表示坚决支持团支部。致悼词的人都满腔悲愤,强烈要求处死凶手,要求抓住他们,就在这个广场上,在烈士墓前当众审判,让大家都认清敌人的真面目。
接着,放了三响排枪。烈士墓上铺上了常青树枝。当天晚上,团支部选出了新的支部书记——拉基京娜。国家政治保安部的边境哨所通知保尔,说他们发现了凶手的线索。
一个星期以后,区苏维埃第二次代表大会在别列兹多夫的剧院里开幕了。利西岑向大会做报告,他表情严肃,神态庄重。
“同志们,我以十分高兴的心情向大会报告,一年来由于大家共同努力,我们的工作有了很大进展。我们大大巩固了本区的苏维埃政权,彻底肃清了土匪,狠狠打击了走私活动。
各村都建立了坚强可靠的贫农组织。共青团组织壮大了十倍,党的组织也发展了。最近,富农们在波杜布齐杀害了我们的格里沙同志,现在案件已经破获,凶手就是磨坊老板和他的女婿。他们已经被逮捕,不久省法院巡回法庭就要来审判他们。许多村的代表团都向大会主席团提出建议,要大会作出决议,坚决要求将杀人凶犯处以极刑……”
会场上立刻响起了震耳的喊声:“赞成!处死苏维埃政权的敌人!”
这时,莉达在旁门口出现了。她做了一个手势,叫保尔出去。
莉达在走廊上交给他一封公函,上面写着“急件”。保尔立刻拆开了。
别列兹多夫共青团区委会。抄送区党委会。省委常委会决定从你区调回柯察金同志,省委拟另派他担任重要的共青团工作。
保尔同他工作了一年的别列兹多夫区告别了。最后一次区党委会议上讨论了两个问题:第一,批准保尔·柯察金同志转为共产党正式党员;第二,解除他区团委书记的职务,并通过他的鉴定。
利西岑和莉达紧紧地握着保尔的手,亲切地拥抱他。当保尔骑着马从院子里出来,走上大道的时候,十几支手枪齐放排枪,向他致敬。
点击收听单词发音
1 hostility | |
n.敌对,敌意;抵制[pl.]交战,战争 | |
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2 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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3 spikes | |
n.穗( spike的名词复数 );跑鞋;(防滑)鞋钉;尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 );偷偷地给某人的饮料加入(更多)酒精( 或药物);把尖状物钉入;打乱某人的计划 | |
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4 beak | |
n.鸟嘴,茶壶嘴,钩形鼻 | |
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5 prey | |
n.被掠食者,牺牲者,掠食;v.捕食,掠夺,折磨 | |
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6 malicious | |
adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
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7 emblem | |
n.象征,标志;徽章 | |
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8 gulf | |
n.海湾;深渊,鸿沟;分歧,隔阂 | |
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9 kin | |
n.家族,亲属,血缘关系;adj.亲属关系的,同类的 | |
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10 Soviet | |
adj.苏联的,苏维埃的;n.苏维埃 | |
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11 socialist | |
n.社会主义者;adj.社会主义的 | |
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12 rapacious | |
adj.贪婪的,强夺的 | |
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13 bourgeois | |
adj./n.追求物质享受的(人);中产阶级分子 | |
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14 battalion | |
n.营;部队;大队(的人) | |
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15 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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16 crests | |
v.到达山顶(或浪峰)( crest的第三人称单数 );到达洪峰,达到顶点 | |
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17 crunch | |
n.关键时刻;艰难局面;v.发出碎裂声 | |
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18 blizzard | |
n.暴风雪 | |
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19 mitt | |
n.棒球手套,拳击手套,无指手套;vt.铐住,握手 | |
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20 mittens | |
不分指手套 | |
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21 slung | |
抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 ); 吊挂; 遣送; 押往 | |
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22 sentry | |
n.哨兵,警卫 | |
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23 groove | |
n.沟,槽;凹线,(刻出的)线条,习惯 | |
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24 relish | |
n.滋味,享受,爱好,调味品;vt.加调味料,享受,品味;vi.有滋味 | |
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25 sentries | |
哨兵,步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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26 plods | |
v.沉重缓慢地走(路)( plod的第三人称单数 );努力从事;沉闷地苦干;缓慢进行(尤指艰难枯燥的工作) | |
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27 butt | |
n.笑柄;烟蒂;枪托;臀部;v.用头撞或顶 | |
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28 straps | |
n.带子( strap的名词复数 );挎带;肩带;背带v.用皮带捆扎( strap的第三人称单数 );用皮带抽打;包扎;给…打绷带 | |
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29 marrow | |
n.骨髓;精华;活力 | |
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30 numb | |
adj.麻木的,失去感觉的;v.使麻木 | |
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31 trots | |
小跑,急走( trot的名词复数 ); 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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32 trot | |
n.疾走,慢跑;n.老太婆;现成译本;(复数)trots:腹泻(与the 连用);v.小跑,快步走,赶紧 | |
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33 stiffen | |
v.(使)硬,(使)变挺,(使)变僵硬 | |
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34 joints | |
接头( joint的名词复数 ); 关节; 公共场所(尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所) (非正式); 一块烤肉 (英式英语) | |
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35 sector | |
n.部门,部分;防御地段,防区;扇形 | |
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36 sectors | |
n.部门( sector的名词复数 );领域;防御地区;扇形 | |
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37 wafts | |
n.空中飘来的气味,一阵气味( waft的名词复数 );摇转风扇v.吹送,飘送,(使)浮动( waft的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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39 lieutenant | |
n.陆军中尉,海军上尉;代理官员,副职官员 | |
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40 knoll | |
n.小山,小丘 | |
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41 inspection | |
n.检查,审查,检阅 | |
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42 fleck | |
n.斑点,微粒 vt.使有斑点,使成斑驳 | |
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43 laboriously | |
adv.艰苦地;费力地;辛勤地;(文体等)佶屈聱牙地 | |
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44 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
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45 crunching | |
v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 );嘎吱作响;(快速大量地)处理信息;数字捣弄 | |
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46 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
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47 outfit | |
n.(为特殊用途的)全套装备,全套服装 | |
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48 promptly | |
adv.及时地,敏捷地 | |
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49 sinewy | |
adj.多腱的,强壮有力的 | |
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50 propeller | |
n.螺旋桨,推进器 | |
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51 ultimatum | |
n.最后通牒 | |
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52 lone | |
adj.孤寂的,单独的;唯一的 | |
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53 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
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54 rhythmically | |
adv.有节奏地 | |
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55 trotted | |
小跑,急走( trot的过去分词 ); 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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56 soothing | |
adj.慰藉的;使人宽心的;镇静的 | |
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57 congealing | |
v.使凝结,冻结( congeal的现在分词 );(指血)凝结 | |
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58 momentary | |
adj.片刻的,瞬息的;短暂的 | |
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59 plumes | |
羽毛( plume的名词复数 ); 羽毛饰; 羽毛状物; 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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60 hoary | |
adj.古老的;鬓发斑白的 | |
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61 rime | |
n.白霜;v.使蒙霜 | |
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62 nostrils | |
鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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63 gracefully | |
ad.大大方方地;优美地 | |
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64 mare | |
n.母马,母驴 | |
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65 fluffy | |
adj.有绒毛的,空洞的 | |
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66 reined | |
勒缰绳使(马)停步( rein的过去式和过去分词 ); 驾驭; 严格控制; 加强管理 | |
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67 ass | |
n.驴;傻瓜,蠢笨的人 | |
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68 congealed | |
v.使凝结,冻结( congeal的过去式和过去分词 );(指血)凝结 | |
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69 garbed | |
v.(尤指某类人穿的特定)服装,衣服,制服( garb的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70 hitched | |
(免费)搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 ); 搭便车; 攀上; 跃上 | |
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71 spat | |
n.口角,掌击;v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
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72 furtively | |
adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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73 complicates | |
使复杂化( complicate的第三人称单数 ) | |
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74 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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75 wade | |
v.跋涉,涉水;n.跋涉 | |
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76 smuggling | |
n.走私 | |
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77 contraband | |
n.违禁品,走私品 | |
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78 scouting | |
守候活动,童子军的活动 | |
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79 scatter | |
vt.撒,驱散,散开;散布/播;vi.分散,消散 | |
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80 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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81 haphazardly | |
adv.偶然地,随意地,杂乱地 | |
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82 filthy | |
adj.卑劣的;恶劣的,肮脏的 | |
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83 manure | |
n.粪,肥,肥粒;vt.施肥 | |
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84 slaughter | |
n.屠杀,屠宰;vt.屠杀,宰杀 | |
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85 nag | |
v.(对…)不停地唠叨;n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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86 heyday | |
n.全盛时期,青春期 | |
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87 liking | |
n.爱好;嗜好;喜欢 | |
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88 edible | |
n.食品,食物;adj.可食用的 | |
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89 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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90 augur | |
n.占卦师;v.占卦 | |
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91 mused | |
v.沉思,冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 );沉思自语说(某事) | |
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92 engrossed | |
adj.全神贯注的 | |
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93 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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94 boredom | |
n.厌烦,厌倦,乏味,无聊 | |
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95 dreariness | |
沉寂,可怕,凄凉 | |
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96 pious | |
adj.虔诚的;道貌岸然的 | |
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97 organise | |
vt.组织,安排,筹办 | |
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98 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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99 organisation | |
n.组织,安排,团体,有机休 | |
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100 chaotic | |
adj.混沌的,一片混乱的,一团糟的 | |
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101 wreckage | |
n.(失事飞机等的)残骸,破坏,毁坏 | |
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102 dynamited | |
v.(尤指用于采矿的)甘油炸药( dynamite的过去式和过去分词 );会引起轰动的人[事物] | |
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103 wielded | |
手持着使用(武器、工具等)( wield的过去式和过去分词 ); 具有; 运用(权力); 施加(影响) | |
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104 wrench | |
v.猛拧;挣脱;使扭伤;n.扳手;痛苦,难受 | |
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105 tightened | |
收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)变紧; (使)绷紧; 加紧 | |
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106 rusty | |
adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
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107 crease | |
n.折缝,褶痕,皱褶;v.(使)起皱 | |
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108 rebellious | |
adj.造反的,反抗的,难控制的 | |
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109 overthrow | |
v.推翻,打倒,颠覆;n.推翻,瓦解,颠覆 | |
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110 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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111 sneer | |
v.轻蔑;嘲笑;n.嘲笑,讥讽的言语 | |
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112 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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113 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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114 shameful | |
adj.可耻的,不道德的 | |
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115 unwilling | |
adj.不情愿的 | |
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116 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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117 awakened | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
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118 lurking | |
潜在 | |
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119 rheumatism | |
n.风湿病 | |
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120 certifying | |
(尤指书面)证明( certify的现在分词 ); 发证书给…; 证明(某人)患有精神病; 颁发(或授予)专业合格证书 | |
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121 rippled | |
使泛起涟漪(ripple的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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122 registration | |
n.登记,注册,挂号 | |
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123 massaged | |
按摩,推拿( massage的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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124 aged | |
adj.年老的,陈年的 | |
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125 swollen | |
adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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126 cane | |
n.手杖,细长的茎,藤条;v.以杖击,以藤编制的 | |
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127 stifling | |
a.令人窒息的 | |
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128 gilded | |
a.镀金的,富有的 | |
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129 premises | |
n.建筑物,房屋 | |
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130 luxurious | |
adj.精美而昂贵的;豪华的 | |
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131 jaw | |
n.颚,颌,说教,流言蜚语;v.喋喋不休,教训 | |
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132 tunic | |
n.束腰外衣 | |
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133 lathe | |
n.车床,陶器,镟床 | |
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134 munitions | |
n.军火,弹药;v.供应…军需品 | |
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135 regiment | |
n.团,多数,管理;v.组织,编成团,统制 | |
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136 receded | |
v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 );向后倾斜;自原处后退或避开别人的注视;尤指问题 | |
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137 terse | |
adj.(说话,文笔)精炼的,简明的 | |
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138 strictly | |
adv.严厉地,严格地;严密地 | |
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139 confidential | |
adj.秘(机)密的,表示信任的,担任机密工作的 | |
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140 rumble | |
n.隆隆声;吵嚷;v.隆隆响;低沉地说 | |
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141 mishap | |
n.不幸的事,不幸;灾祸 | |
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142 vaults | |
n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 );地下室;撑物跳高;墓穴 | |
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143 cavalryman | |
骑兵 | |
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144 cavalry | |
n.骑兵;轻装甲部队 | |
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145 gallop | |
v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔;飞速发展 | |
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146 galloped | |
(使马)飞奔,奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 ); 快速做[说]某事 | |
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147 galloping | |
adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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148 strapped | |
adj.用皮带捆住的,用皮带装饰的;身无分文的;缺钱;手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词);用皮带抽打;包扎;给…打绷带 | |
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149 ominous | |
adj.不祥的,不吉的,预兆的,预示的 | |
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150 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
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151 shutters | |
百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 ); (照相机的)快门 | |
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152 hogs | |
n.(尤指喂肥供食用的)猪( hog的名词复数 );(供食用的)阉公猪;彻底地做某事;自私的或贪婪的人 | |
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153 hog | |
n.猪;馋嘴贪吃的人;vt.把…占为己有,独占 | |
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154 rummage | |
v./n.翻寻,仔细检查 | |
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155 pickets | |
罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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156 novice | |
adj.新手的,生手的 | |
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157 ambush | |
n.埋伏(地点);伏兵;v.埋伏;伏击 | |
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158 ambushed | |
v.埋伏( ambush的过去式和过去分词 );埋伏着 | |
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159 tunics | |
n.(动植物的)膜皮( tunic的名词复数 );束腰宽松外衣;一套制服的短上衣;(天主教主教等穿的)短祭袍 | |
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160 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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161 proximity | |
n.接近,邻近 | |
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162 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
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163 toiled | |
长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 ); 艰难缓慢地移动,跋涉 | |
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164 soviets | |
苏维埃(Soviet的复数形式) | |
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165 squads | |
n.(军队中的)班( squad的名词复数 );(暗杀)小组;体育运动的运动(代表)队;(对付某类犯罪活动的)警察队伍 | |
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166 trainees | |
新兵( trainee的名词复数 ); 练习生; 接受训练的人; 训练中的动物 | |
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167 diligently | |
ad.industriously;carefully | |
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168 laden | |
adj.装满了的;充满了的;负了重担的;苦恼的 | |
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169 smuggled | |
水货 | |
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170 previously | |
adv.以前,先前(地) | |
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171 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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172 penetrated | |
adj. 击穿的,鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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173 inert | |
adj.无活动能力的,惰性的;迟钝的 | |
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174 revelling | |
v.作乐( revel的现在分词 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉 | |
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175 puddle | |
n.(雨)水坑,泥潭 | |
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176 reins | |
感情,激情; 缰( rein的名词复数 ); 控制手段; 掌管; (成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的)保护带 | |
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177 shrieking | |
v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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178 hysterical | |
adj.情绪异常激动的,歇斯底里般的 | |
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179 squealing | |
v.长声尖叫,用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的现在分词 ) | |
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180 slaughtering | |
v.屠杀,杀戮,屠宰( slaughter的现在分词 ) | |
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181 wailed | |
v.哭叫,哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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182 bellowed | |
v.发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的过去式和过去分词 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫 | |
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183 eddied | |
起漩涡,旋转( eddy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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184 scythes | |
n.(长柄)大镰刀( scythe的名词复数 )v.(长柄)大镰刀( scythe的第三人称单数 ) | |
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185 scythe | |
n. 长柄的大镰刀,战车镰; v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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186 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
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187 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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188 unbearably | |
adv.不能忍受地,无法容忍地;慌 | |
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189 basked | |
v.晒太阳,取暖( bask的过去式和过去分词 );对…感到乐趣;因他人的功绩而出名;仰仗…的余泽 | |
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190 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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191 disperse | |
vi.使分散;使消失;vt.分散;驱散 | |
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192 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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193 spoke | |
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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194 incessantly | |
ad.不停地 | |
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195 brawl | |
n.大声争吵,喧嚷;v.吵架,对骂 | |
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196 afterward | |
adv.后来;以后 | |
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197 persistence | |
n.坚持,持续,存留 | |
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198 sullen | |
adj.愠怒的,闷闷不乐的,(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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199 profusely | |
ad.abundantly | |
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200 exertion | |
n.尽力,努力 | |
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201 balk | |
n.大方木料;v.妨碍;不愿前进或从事某事 | |
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202 balks | |
v.畏缩不前,犹豫( balk的第三人称单数 );(指马)不肯跑 | |
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203 garrulous | |
adj.唠叨的,多话的 | |
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204 troublemaker | |
n.惹是生非者,闹事者,捣乱者 | |
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205 clout | |
n.用手猛击;权力,影响力 | |
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206 jabber | |
v.快而不清楚地说;n.吱吱喳喳 | |
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207 flicked | |
(尤指用手指或手快速地)轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 ); (用…)轻挥; (快速地)按开关; 向…笑了一下(或瞥了一眼等) | |
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208 belly | |
n.肚子,腹部;(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分,膛 | |
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209 clattered | |
发出咔哒声(clatter的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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210 testily | |
adv. 易怒地, 暴躁地 | |
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211 resounding | |
adj. 响亮的 | |
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212 latch | |
n.门闩,窗闩;弹簧锁 | |
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213 raving | |
adj.说胡话的;疯狂的,怒吼的;非常漂亮的;令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话;疯话adv.胡言乱语地;疯狂地 | |
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214 mumbled | |
含糊地说某事,叽咕,咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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215 bungling | |
adj.笨拙的,粗劣的v.搞糟,完不成( bungle的现在分词 );笨手笨脚地做;失败;完不成 | |
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216 accordion | |
n.手风琴;adj.可折叠的 | |
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217 enchanting | |
a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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218 passionate | |
adj.热情的,热烈的,激昂的,易动情的,易怒的,性情暴躁的 | |
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219 caressing | |
爱抚的,表现爱情的,亲切的 | |
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220 mingle | |
vt.使混合,使相混;vi.混合起来;相交往 | |
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221 harmoniously | |
和谐地,调和地 | |
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222 zealous | |
adj.狂热的,热心的 | |
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223 quarry | |
n.采石场;v.采石;费力地找 | |
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224 disarmed | |
v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 );使息怒 | |
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225 disarm | |
v.解除武装,回复平常的编制,缓和 | |
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226 agitatedly | |
动摇,兴奋; 勃然 | |
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227 consultation | |
n.咨询;商量;商议;会议 | |
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228 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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229 vouch | |
v.担保;断定;n.被担保者 | |
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230 miller | |
n.磨坊主 | |
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231 fortresses | |
堡垒,要塞( fortress的名词复数 ) | |
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232 sergeant | |
n.警官,中士 | |
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233 averse | |
adj.厌恶的;反对的,不乐意的 | |
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234 molesting | |
v.骚扰( molest的现在分词 );干扰;调戏;猥亵 | |
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235 postal | |
adj.邮政的,邮局的 | |
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236 brigand | |
n.土匪,强盗 | |
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237 militia | |
n.民兵,民兵组织 | |
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238 eluded | |
v.(尤指机敏地)避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 );逃避;躲避;使达不到 | |
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239 elusiveness | |
狡诈 | |
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240 outrage | |
n.暴行,侮辱,愤怒;vt.凌辱,激怒 | |
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241 gnaw | |
v.不断地啃、咬;使苦恼,折磨 | |
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242 clenched | |
v.紧握,抓紧,咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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243 conceited | |
adj.自负的,骄傲自满的 | |
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244 outskirts | |
n.郊外,郊区 | |
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245 panes | |
窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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246 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
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247 poised | |
a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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248 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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249 herded | |
群集,纠结( herd的过去式和过去分词 ); 放牧; (使)向…移动 | |
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250 withering | |
使人畏缩的,使人害羞的,使人难堪的 | |
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251 barricades | |
路障,障碍物( barricade的名词复数 ) | |
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252 bleached | |
漂白的,晒白的,颜色变浅的 | |
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253 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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254 dispersed | |
adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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255 triumphantly | |
ad.得意洋洋地;得胜地;成功地 | |
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256 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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257 amazement | |
n.惊奇,惊讶 | |
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258 pretext | |
n.借口,托词 | |
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259 passersby | |
n. 过路人(行人,经过者) | |
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260 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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261 scarlet | |
n.深红色,绯红色,红衣;adj.绯红色的 | |
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262 rustled | |
v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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263 resounded | |
v.(指声音等)回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 );产生回响;(指某处)回荡着声音 | |
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264 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
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265 dense | |
a.密集的,稠密的,浓密的;密度大的 | |
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266 demonstration | |
n.表明,示范,论证,示威 | |
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267 consternation | |
n.大为吃惊,惊骇 | |
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268 gendarme | |
n.宪兵 | |
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269 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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270 gendarmes | |
n.宪兵,警官( gendarme的名词复数 ) | |
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271 chevron | |
n.V形臂章;V形图案 | |
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272 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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273 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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274 fiery | |
adj.燃烧着的,火红的;暴躁的;激烈的 | |
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275 inflame | |
v.使燃烧;使极度激动;使发炎 | |
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276 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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277 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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278 gentry | |
n.绅士阶级,上层阶级 | |
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279 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
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280 entrenched | |
adj.确立的,不容易改的(风俗习惯) | |
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281 farmhouse | |
n.农场住宅(尤指主要住房) | |
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282 territorial | |
adj.领土的,领地的 | |
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283 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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284 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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285 muster | |
v.集合,收集,鼓起,激起;n.集合,检阅,集合人员,点名册 | |
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286 battalions | |
n.(陆军的)一营(大约有一千兵士)( battalion的名词复数 );协同作战的部队;军队;(组织在一起工作的)队伍 | |
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287 coxcomb | |
n.花花公子 | |
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288 secondly | |
adv.第二,其次 | |
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289 invalid | |
n.病人,伤残人;adj.有病的,伤残的;无效的 | |
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290 supremacy | |
n.至上;至高权力 | |
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291 detour | |
n.绕行的路,迂回路;v.迂回,绕道 | |
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292 appraisal | |
n.对…作出的评价;评价,鉴定,评估 | |
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293 deploy | |
v.(军)散开成战斗队形,布置,展开 | |
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294 instructor | |
n.指导者,教员,教练 | |
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295 justify | |
vt.证明…正当(或有理),为…辩护 | |
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296 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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297 inhaled | |
v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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298 infinitely | |
adv.无限地,无穷地 | |
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299 yearned | |
渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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300 yearns | |
渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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301 boundless | |
adj.无限的;无边无际的;巨大的 | |
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302 furrow | |
n.沟;垄沟;轨迹;车辙;皱纹 | |
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303 annoyance | |
n.恼怒,生气,烦恼 | |
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304 converse | |
vi.谈话,谈天,闲聊;adv.相反的,相反 | |
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305 chagrin | |
n.懊恼;气愤;委屈 | |
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306 feverish | |
adj.发烧的,狂热的,兴奋的 | |
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307 dilated | |
adj.加宽的,扩大的v.(使某物)扩大,膨胀,张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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308 hoarsely | |
adv.嘶哑地 | |
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309 mustered | |
v.集合,召集,集结(尤指部队)( muster的过去式和过去分词 );(自他人处)搜集某事物;聚集;激发 | |
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310 coffin | |
n.棺材,灵柩 | |
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311 partisans | |
游击队员( partisan的名词复数 ); 党人; 党羽; 帮伙 | |
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312 vowed | |
起誓,发誓(vow的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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313 accomplished | |
adj.有才艺的;有造诣的;达到了的 | |
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314 uprooted | |
v.把(某物)连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 );根除;赶走;把…赶出家园 | |
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315 provocation | |
n.激怒,刺激,挑拨,挑衅的事物,激怒的原因 | |
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316 delegations | |
n.代表团( delegation的名词复数 );委托,委派 | |
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317 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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318 beckoned | |
v.(用头或手的动作)示意,召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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319 endorsement | |
n.背书;赞成,认可,担保;签(注),批注 | |
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320 wrung | |
绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 ); 握紧(尤指别人的手); 把(湿衣服)拧干; 绞掉(水) | |
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321 salute | |
vi.行礼,致意,问候,放礼炮;vt.向…致意,迎接,赞扬;n.招呼,敬礼,礼炮 | |
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