The tramcar crawled laboriously1 up Fundukleyevskaya Street, its motors groaning2 with the effort. At the Opera House it stopped and a group of young people alighted. The car continued the climb.
"We'd better get a move on," Pankratov urged the others, "or we'll be late for sure."
Okunev caught up with him at the theatre entrance.
"We came here under similar circumstances three years ago, you remember, Genka? That was when Dubava came back to us with the 'Workers' Opposition4'. A grand meeting!
And tonight
we've got to grapple with him again!"
They had presented their passes and been admitted into the hall before Pankratov replied:
"Yes, history is repeating itself on the very same spot."
They were hissed5 to silence. The evening session of the conference had already begun and they had to take the first seats they could find. A young woman was addressing the gathering6 from the rostrum. It was Talya.
"We're just in time. Now sit quiet and listen to what wifie has to say," Pankratov whispered,giving Okunev a dig in the ribs7.
". . .It's true that we have spent much time and energy on this discussion, but I think that we have all learned a great deal from it. Today we are very glad to note that in our organisation8 Trotsky's followers9 have been defeated. They cannot complain that they were not given a hearing. On the contrary: they have had every opportunity to express their point of view. As a matter of fact they have abused the freedom we gave them and committed a number of gross violations12 of Party discipline."
Talya was nervous; you could tell by the way she kept tossing back a lock of hair that fell forward over her eyes as she spoke13.
"Many comrades from the districts have spoken here, and they have all had something to say about the methods the Trotskyites have been using. There are quite a number of Trotskyites at this conference. The districts deliberately14 sent them here to give us another opportunity to hear them out at this city Party conference. It is not our fault if they are not making full use of this opportunity. Evidently their complete defeat in the districts and cells has taught them something.
They could hardly get up at this conference and repeat what they were saying only yesterday."
A harsh voice from the right-hand corner of the hall interrupted Talya at this point:
"We haven't had our say yet!"
Talya turned in the direction of the voice:
"All right, Dubava, come up here now and speak, we'll listen to you."
Dubava stared gloomily back at her and his lips twisted in anger.
"We'll talk when the time comes!" he shouted back. He thought of the crushing defeat he had sustained the day before in his own district. The memory still rankled15.
A low murmur16 passed over the hall. Pankratov, unable to restrain himself, cried out:
"Going to try shaking up the Party again, eh?"
Dubava recognised the voice, but did not turn round. He merely dug his teeth into his lower lip and bent17 his head.
"Dubava himself offers a striking example of how the Trotskyites are violating Party discipline,"
Talya went on. "He has worked in the Komsomol for a long time, many of us know him, the arsenal18 workers in particular. He is a student of the Kharkov Communist University, yet we all know that he has been here with Shumsky for the past three weeks. What has brought them here in the middle of the university term? There isn't a single district in town where they haven't addressed meetings. True, during the past few days Shumsky has shown signs of coming to his senses. Who sent them here?
Besides them, there are a good number of other Trotskyites from various organisations. They all worked here before at one time or another and now they have come back to stir up trouble within the Party. Do their Party organisations know where they are? Of course not."
The conference was expecting the Trotskyites to come forward and admit their mistakes. Talya, hoping to persuade them to take this step, appealed to them earnestly. She addressed herself directly to them as if in comradely, informal debate:
"Three years ago in this very theatre Dubava came back to us with the former 'Workers' Opposition'. Remember? And do you remember what he said then: 'Never shall we let the Party banner fall from our hands.' But hardly three years have passed and Dubava has done just that.
Yes, I repeat, he has let the Party banner fall. 'We haven't had our say yet!' he just said. That shows that he and his fellow Trotskyites intend to go still further."
"Let Tufta tell us about the barometer19," came a voice from the back rows. "He's their weather expert."
To which indignant voices responded:
"This is no time for silly jokes!"
"Are they going to stop fighting the Party or not? Let them answer that!"
"Let them tell us who wrote that anti-Party declaration!"
Indignation rose higher and higher and the chairman rang his bell long and insistently20 for silence.
Talya's voice was drowned out by the din21, and it was some time before she was able to continue.
"The letters we receive from our comrades in the outlying localities show that they are with us in this and that is very encouraging. Permit me to read part of one letter we have received. It is from Olga Yureneva. Many of you here know her. She is in charge of the Organisational Department of an Area Committee of the Komsomol."
Talya drew a sheet of paper out of a pile before her, ran her eye over it and began:
"All practical work has been neglected. For the past four days all bureau members have been out in the districts where the Trotskyites have launched a more vicious campaign than ever. An incident occurred yesterday which aroused the indignation of the entire organisation. Failing to get a majority in a single cell in town, the opposition decided23 to rally their forces and put up a fight in the cell of the Regional Military Commissariat, which also includes the Communists working in the Regional Planning Commission and Educational Department. The cell has forty-two members, but all the Trotskyites banded together there. Never had we heard such anti-Party speeches as were made at that meeting. One of the Military Commissariat members got up and said outright24: 'If the Party apparatus25 doesn't give in, we will smash it by force.' The oppositionists applauded that statement. Then Korchagin took the floor. 'How can you applaud that fascist26 and call yourselves Party members?' he said, but they raised such a commotion27, shouting and banging their chairs, that he could not go on. The members who were disgusted by this outrageous28 behaviour demanded that Korchagin be given a hearing, but the uproar29 was repeated as soon as he tried to make himself heard. 'So this is what you call democracy!' he shouted above the din. 'I'm going to speak just the same!' At that point several of them fell on him and tried to drag him off the platform. There was wild confusion. Pavel fought back and went on speaking, but they dragged him off the stage, opened. a side door and threw him onto the stairway, his face was bleeding. After that, nearly all the members left the meeting. That incident was an eye-opener for many. ..."
Talya left the platform.
Segal, who had been in charge of the Agitation30 and Propaganda Department of the Gubernia Party Committee for two months now, sat in the presidium next to Tokarev and listened attentively31 to the speeches of the delegates. So far the conference had been addressed exclusively by young people who were still in the Komsomol.
"How they have matured these past few years!" Segal was thinking.
"The opposition is already getting it hot," he remarked to Tokarev, "and the heavy artillery32 has not yet been brought into action. It's the youth who are routing the Trotskyites." Just then Tufta leapt onto the platform. He was met by a loud buzz of disapproval33 and a brief outburst of laughter. Tufta turned to the presidium to protest against his reception, but the hall had already quieted down.
"Someone here called me a weather expert. So that is how you mock at my political views,Comrades of the majority!" he burst out in one breath.
A roar of laughter greeted his words. Tufta appealed indignantly to the chairman:
"You can laugh, but I tell you once again, the youth is a barometer. Lenin has said so time and again."
In an instant silence reigned34 in the hall.
"What did Lenin say?" came voices from the audience.
Tufta livened up.
"When preparations were being made for the October uprising Lenin issued instructions to muster35 the resolute36 working-class youth, arm them and send them together with the sailors to the most important sectors37. Do you want me to read you that passage? I have all the quotations38 down on cards." Tufta dug into his portfolio39.
"Never mind, we know it!"
"But what did Lenin say about unity11?"
"And about Party discipline?"
"When did Lenin ever set up the youth in opposition to the old guard?"
Tufta lost the thread of his thoughts and switched over to another theme:
"Lagutina here read a letter from Yureneva. We cannot be expected to answer for certain excesses that might occur in the course of debate."
Tsvetayev, sitting next to Shumsky, hissed in fury: "Fools barge40 in. . . ."
"Yes," Shumsky whispered back. "That idiot will ruin us completely."
Tufta's shrill41, high-pitched voice continued to grate on the ears of his hearers:
"If you have organised a majority faction43, we have the right to organise42 a minority faction."
A commotion arose in the hall.
Angry cries rained down on Tufta from all sides:
"What's that? Again Bolsheviks and Mensheviks!"
"The Russian Communist Party isn't a parliament!"
"They're working for all sorts of factionists, from Myasnikov to Martov!"
Tufta threw up his arms as if about to plunge44 into a river, and returned an excited rapid-fire:
"Yes, we must have freedom to form groups. Otherwise how can we who hold different views fight for our opinions against such an organised, well-disciplined majority?"
The uproar increased. Pankratov got up and shouted:
"Let him speak. We might as well hear what he has to say. Tufta may blurt45 out what the others prefer to keep to themselves."
The hall quieted down. Tufta realised that he had gone too far. Perhaps he ought not to have said that now. His thoughts went off at a tangent and he wound up his speech in a rush of words:
"Of course you can expel us and shove us overboard. That sort of thing is beginning already.
You've already got me out of the Gubernia Committee of the Komsomol. But never mind, we'll soon see who was right." And with that he jumped off the stage into the hall.
Tsvetayev passed a note down to Dubava. "Mityai, you take the floor next. Of course it won't alter the situation, we are obviously getting the worst of it here. We must put Tufta right. He's a blockhead and a gas-bag."
Dubava asked for the floor and his request was granted immediately.
An expectant hush46 fell over the hall as he mounted the platform. It was the usual silence that precedes a speech, but to Dubava it was pregnant with hostility47. The ardour with which he had addressed the cell meetings had cooled off by now. From day to day his passion had waned48, and after the crushing defeat and the stern rebuff from his former comrades, it was like a fire doused49 with water, and now he was enveloped50 by the bitter smoke of wounded vanity made bitterer still by his stubborn refusal to admit himself in the wrong. He resolved to plunge straight in although he knew that he would only be alienating51 himself still further from the majority. His voice when he spoke was toneless, yet distinct.
"Please do not interrupt me or annoy me by heckling. I want to set forth52 our position in full,although I know in advance that it is no use. You have the majority."
When at last he finished speaking it was as if a bombshell had burst in the hall. A hurricane of angry shouts descended53 upon him, stinging him like whiplashes.
"Shame!"
"Down with the splitters!"
"Enough mud-slinging!"
To the accompaniment of mocking laughter Dubava went back to his seat, and that laughter cut like a knife-thrust. Had they stormed and railed at him he would have been gratified, but to be jeered54 at like a third-rate actor whose voice had cracked on a false note was too much.
"Shumsky has the floor," announced the chairman.
Shumsky got up. "I decline to speak."
Then Pankratov's bass55 boomed from the back rows.
"Let me speak!"
Dubava could tell by his voice that Pankratov was seething56 inwardly. His deep voice always boomed thus when he was mortally insulted, and a deep uneasiness seized Dubava as he gloomily watched the tall, slightly bent figure stride swiftly over to the platform. He knew what Pankratov was going to say. He thought of the meeting he had had the day before with his old friends at Solomenka and how they had pleaded with him to break with the opposition. Tsvetayev and Shumsky had been with him. They had met at Tokarev's place. Pankratov, Okunev, Talya,Volyntsev, Zelenova, Staroverov and Artyukhin had been present. Dubava had remained deaf to this attempt to restore unity. In the middle of the discussion he had walked out with Tsvetayev,thus emphasising his unwillingness57 to admit his mistakes. Shumsky had remained. And now he had refused to take the floor. "Spineless intellectual! Of course they've won him over," Dubava thought with bitter resentment58. He was losing all his friends in this frenzied59 struggle. At the university there had been a rupture60 in his friendship with Zharky, who had sharply censured61 the declaration of the "forty-six" at a meeting of the Party bureau. And later, when the clash grew sharper, he had ceased to be on speaking terms. Several times after that Zharky had come to his place to visit Anna. It was a year since Dubava and Anna had been married. They occupied separate rooms, and Dubava believed that his strained relations with Anna, who did not share his views, had been aggravated62 by Zharky's frequent visits. It was not jealousy63 on his part, he assured himself, but under the circumstances her friendship with Zharky irritated him. He had spoken to Anna about it and the result had been a scene which had by no means improved their relations. He had left for the conference without telling her where he was going.
The swift flight of his thoughts was cut short by Pankratov.
"Comrades!" the word rang out as the speaker took up a position at the very edge of the platform. "Comrades! For nine days we have listened to the speeches of the opposition, and I must say quite frankly64 that they spoke here not as fellow fighters, revolutionaries, our comrades in the class struggle. Their speeches were hostile, implacable, malicious65 and slanderous66. Yes, Comrades, slanderous! They have tried to represent us Bolsheviks as supporters of a mailed-fist regime in the Party, as people who are betraying the interests of their class and the Revolution. They have attempted to brand as Party bureaucrats67 the best, the most tried and trusty section of our Party, the glorious old guard of Bolsheviks, men who built up the Russian Communist Party, men who suffered in tsarist prisons, men who with Comrade Lenin at their head have waged a relentless70 struggle against world Menshevism and Trotsky. Could anyone but an enemy make such statements? Is the Party and its functionaries71 not one single whole? Then what is this all about, I want to know? What would we say of men who would try to incite72 young Red Army men against their commanders and commissars, against army headquarters — and at a time when the unit was surrounded by the enemy? According to the Trotskyites, so long as I am a mechanic I'm 'all right', but if tomorrow I should become the secretary of a Party Committee I would be a 'bureaucrat68' and a 'chairwarmer'! Isn't it a bit strange, Comrades, that among the oppositionists who are fighting against bureaucracy and for democracy there should be men like Tufta, for example, who was recently removed from his job for being a bureaucrat? Or Tsvetayev, who is well known to the Solomenka folks for his 'democracy'; or Afanasyev, who was taken off the job three times by the Gubernia Committee for his highhanded way of running things in Podolsk District? It turns out that all those whom the Party has punished have united to fight the Party. Let the old Bolsheviks tell us about Trotsky's 'Bolshevism'. It is very important for the youth to know the history of Trotsky's struggle against the Bolsheviks, about his constant shifting from one camp to another.
The struggle against the opposition has welded our ranks and it has strengthened the youth ideologically73. The Bolshevik Party and the Komsomol have become steeled in the fight against petty-bourgeois trends. The hysterical74 panic-mongers of the opposition are predicting complete economic and political collapse75. Our tomorrow will show how much these prophecies are worth.
They are demanding that we send old Bolsheviks like Tokarev, for instance, back to the bench and replace him by some weather-vane like Dubava who imagines his struggle against the Party to be a sort of heroic feat10. No, Comrades, we won't agree to that. The old Bolsheviks will get replacement76, but not from among those who violently attack the Party line whenever we are up against some difficulty. We shall not permit the unity of our great Party to be disrupted. Never will the old and young guard be split. Under the banner of Lenin, in unrelenting struggle against petty-bourgeois trends, we shall march to victory!"
Pankratov descended the platform amid thunderous applause.
The following day a group of ten met at Tufta's place.
"Shumsky and I are leaving today for Kharkov," Dubava said. "There is nothing more for us to do here. You must try to keep together. All we can do now is to wait and see what happens. It is obvious that the All-Russia Conference will condemn77 us, but it seems to me that it is too soon to expect any repressive measures to be taken against us. The majority has decided to give us another chance. To carry on the struggle openly now, especially after the conference, means getting kicked out of the Party, and that does not enter into our plans. It is hard to say what the future holds for us. I think that's all there is to be said." Dubava got up to go.
The gaunt, thin-lipped Staroverov also rose.
"I don't understand you, Mityai," he said, rolling his r's and slightly stammering78. "Does that mean that the conference decision is not binding79 on us?"
"Formally, it is," Tsvetayev cut him short. "Otherwise you'll lose your Party card. But we'll wait and see which way the wind blows and in the meantime we'll disperse80."
Tufta stirred uneasily in his chair. Shumsky, pale and downcast, with dark circles under his eyes,sat by the window biting his nails. At Tsvetayev's words he abandoned his depressing occupation and turned to the meeting.
"I'm opposed to such manoeuvres," he said in sudden anger. "I personally consider that the decision of the conference is binding on us. We have fought for our convictions, but now we must submit to the decision that has been taken."
Staroverov looked at him with approval.
"That is what I wanted to say," he lisped.
Dubava fixed81 Shumsky with his eyes and said with a sneer82:
"Nobody's suggesting that you do anything. You still have a chance to 'repent83' at the Gubernia Conference."
Shumsky leapt to his feet.
"I resent your tone, Dmitri! And to be quite frank, what you say disgusts me and forces me to reconsider my position."
Dubava waved him away.
"That's exactly what I thought you'd do. Run along and repent before it is too late." With that Dubava shook hands with Tufta and the others and left. Shumsky and Staroverov followed soon after.
Cruel cold marked the advent84 in history of the year one thousand nine hundred and twenty-four.
January fastened its icy grip on the snowbound land, and from the second half of the month howling storms and blizzards85 raged.
The Southwestern Railway was snowed up. Men fought the maddened elements. The steel screws of snowploughs cut into the drifts, clearing a path for the trains. Telegraph wires weighted down with ice snapped under the impact of frost and blizzard86, and of the twelve lines only three functioned — the Indo-European and two government lines.
In the telegraph office at Shepetovka station three apparatuses87 continued their unceasing chatter88 understandable only to the trained ear.
The girl operators were new at the job; the length of the tape they had tapped out would not have exceeded twenty kilometres, but the old telegrapher who worked beside them had already passed the two-hundred-kilometre mark. Unlike his younger colleagues he did not need to read the tape in order to make out the message, nor did he puzzle with wrinkled brow over difficult words or phrases. Instead he wrote down the words one after the other as the apparatus ticked them out.
Now his ear caught the words "To all, to all, to all!"
"Must be another of those circulars about clearing away the snow," the old telegrapher thought to himself as he wrote down the words. Outside, the blizzard raged, hurling89 the snow against the window. The telegrapher thought someone was knocking at the window, his eyes strayed in the direction of the sound and for a moment were arrested by the intricate pattern the frost had traced on the panes90. No engraver91 could ever match that exquisite92 leaf-and-stalk design!
His thoughts wandered and for a while he stopped listening to the telegraph. But presently he looked down and reached for the tape to read the words he had missed.
The telegraph had tapped out these words:
"At 6.50 in the afternoon of January 21. . .." Quickly writing down the words, the telegrapher dropped the tape and resting his head on his hand returned to listening.
"Yesterday in Gorki the death occurred...." Slowly he put the letters down on paper. How many messages had he taken down in his long life, joyous93 messages as well as tragic94 ones, how often had he been the first to hear of the sorrows or happiness of others! He had long since ceased to ponder over the meaning of the terse95, clipped phrases, he merely caught the sounds and mechanically set them down on paper.
Now too someone had died, and someone was being notified of the fact. The telegrapher had forgotten the initial words: "To all, to all, to all." The apparatus clicked out the letters "V-1-a-d-im-i-r I-1-y-i-c-h ', and the old telegrapher translated the hammer taps into words. He sat there unperturbed, a trifle weary. Someone named Vladimir Ilyich had died somewhere, someone would receive the message with the tragic tidings, a cry of grief and anguish96 would be wrung97 from someone, but it was no concern of his, for he was only a chance witness. The apparatus tapped out a dot, a dash, more dots, another dash, and out of the familiar sounds he caught the first letter and set it down on the telegraph form. It was the letter "L". Then came the second letter, "E"; next to it he inscribed98 a neat "N", drawing a heavy slanting99 line between the two uprights, hastily added an "I" and absently picked up the last letter — "N".
The apparatus tapped out a pause, and for the fraction of a second the telegrapher's eye rested on the word he had written: "LENIN".
The apparatus went on tapping, but the familiar name now pierced the telegrapher's consciousness.
He glanced once more at the last words of the message — "LENIN". What? Lenin? The entire text of the telegram flashed before his mind's eye. He stared at the telegraph form, and for the first time in all his thirty-two years of work he could not believe what he had written.
He ran his eye swiftly thrice over the lines, but the words obstinately100 refused to change: "the death occurred of Vladimir Ilyich Lenin." The old man leapt to his feet, snatched up the spiral of tape and bored it with his eyes. The two-metre strip confirmed that which he refused to believe! He turned a deathlike face to his fellow workers, and his frightened cry fell on their ears: "Lenin is dead!"
The terrible news slipped through the wide open door of the telegraph office and with the speed of a hurricane swept over the station and into the blizzard, whipped over the tracks and switches and along with the icy blast tore through the ironbound gates of the railway shops.
A current repair crew was busy overhauling101 an engine standing102 over the first pit. Old Polentovsky himself had crawled down under the belly103 of his engine and was pointing out the ailing22 spots to the mechanics. Zakhar Bruzzhak and Artem were straightening out the bent bars of the fire grate.
Zakhar held the grating on the anvil104 and Artem wielded105 the hammer.
Zakhar had aged69. The past few years had left a deep furrow106 on his forehead and touched his temples with silver. His back was bent and there were shadows in his sunken eyes.
The figure of a man was silhouetted107 for a moment in the doorway108, and then the evening shadows swallowed him up. The blows of the hammer on iron drowned out his first cry, but when he reached the men working at the engine Artem paused with his hammer poised109 to strike.
"Comrades! Lenin is dead!"
The hammer slid slowly from Artem's shoulder and his hands lowered it noiselessly onto the concrete floor.
"What's that? What did you say?" Artem's hand clutched convulsively at the sheepskin of the man who had brought the fearful tidings.
And he, gasping110 for breath, covered with snow, repeated in a low, broken voice:
"Yes, Comrades, Lenin is dead."
And because the man did not shout, Artem realised that the terrible news was true. Only now did he recognise the man — it was the secretary of the local Party organisation.
Men climbed out of the pit and heard in silence of the death of the man with whose name the whole world had rung.
Somewhere outside the gates an engine shrieked111, sending a shudder113 through the group of men.
The anguished114 sound was echoed by another engine at the far side of the station, then by a third.
Their mighty115 chorus was joined by the siren of the power station, high-pitched and piercing like the flight of shrapnel. Then all was drowned out by the deep sonorous116 voice of the handsome engine of the passenger train about to leave for Kiev.
A GPU agent started in surprise when the driver of the Polish engine of the Shepetovka-Warsaw express, on learning the reason for the alarming whistles, listened for a moment, then slowly raised his hand and pulled at the whistle cord. He knew that this was the last time he would do so, that he would never be allowed to drive this train again, but his hand did not let go of the cord, and the shriek112 of his engine roused the startled Polish couriers and diplomats117 from their soft couches.
People crowded into the railway shops. They poured through all the gates and when the vast building was filled to overflowing118 the funeral meeting opened amid heavy silence. The old Bolshevik Sharabrin, Secretary of the Shepetovka Regional Committee of the Party, addressed the gathering.
"Comrades! Lenin, the leader of the world proletariat, is dead. The Party has suffered an irreparable loss, for the man who created the Bolshevik Party and taught it to be implacable to its enemies is no more.... The death of the leader of our Party and our class is a summons to the best sons of the proletariat to join our ranks...."
The strains of the funeral march rang out, the men bared their heads, and Artem, who had not wept for fifteen years, felt a lump rising in his throat and his powerful shoulders shook.The very walls of the railwaymen's club seemed to groan3 under the pressure of the human mass.
Outside it was bitterly cold, the two tall fir-trees at the entrance to the hall were garbed119 in snow and icicles, but inside it was suffocating120 from the heated stoves and the breath of six hundred people who had gathered to the memorial meeting arranged by the Party organisation.
The usual hum of conversation was stilled. Overpowering grief muffled121 men's voices and they spoke in whispers, and there was sorrow and anxiety in the eyes of many.
They were like the crew of a ship that had lost her helmsman in a storm.
Silently the members of the bureau took their seats on the platform. The stocky Sirotenko carefully lifted the bell, rang it gently and replaced it on the table. This was enough for an oppressive hush to settle over the hall.
When the main speech had been delivered, Sirotenko, the Secretary of the Party organisation, rose to speak. And although the announcement he made was unusual for a memorial meeting, it surprised no one.
"A number of workers," he said, "have asked this meeting to consider an application for membership in the Party. The application is signed by thirty-seven comrades."
And he read out the application:
"To the railway organisation of the Bolshevik Party at Shepetovka Station, Southwestern Railway.
"The death of our leader is a summons to us to join the ranks of the Bolsheviks, and we ask that this meeting judge of our worthiness122 to join the Party of Lenin."
Two columns of signatures were affixed123 to this brief statement.
Sirotenko read them aloud, pausing a few seconds after each name to allow the meeting to memorise124 them.
"Stanislav Zigmundovich Polentovsky, engine driver, thirty-six years of service."
A murmur of approval rippled125 over the hall.
"Artem Andreyevich Korchagin, mechanic, seventeen years of service."
"Zakhar Filippovich Bruzzhak, engine driver, twenty-one years of service."
The murmur increased in volume as the man on the platform continued to call out the names of veteran members of the horny-palmed fraternity of railwaymen.
Silence again reigned when Polentovsky, whose name headed the list, stood before the meeting.
The old engine driver could not but betray his agitation as he told the story of his life.
". . . What can I tell you, Comrades? You all know what the life of a workingman was like in the old days. Worked like a slave all my life and remained a beggar in my old age. When the Revolution came, I confess I considered myself an old man burdened down by family cares, and I did not see my way into the Party. And although I never sided with the enemy I rarely took part in the struggle myself. In nineteen hundred and five I was a member of the strike committee in the Warsaw railway shops and I was on the side of the Bolsheviks. I was young then and full of fight.
But what's the use of recalling the past! Ilyich's death has struck right at my heart; we've lost our friend and champion, and it's the last time I'll ever speak about being old. I don't know how to put it, for I never was much good at speech making. But let me say this: my road is the Bolsheviks' road and no other."
The engine driver tossed his grey head and his eyes under his white brows looked out steadily126 and resolutely127 at the audience as if awaiting its decisive words.
Not a single voice was raised in opposition to the little grey-haired man's application, and no one abstained128 during the voting in which the non-Party people too were invited to take part.
Polentovsky walked away from the presidium table a member of the Communist Party.
Everyone was conscious that something momentous129 was taking place. Now Artem's great bulk loomed130 where the engine driver had just stood. The mechanic did not know what to do with his hands, and he nervously131 gripped his shaggy fur cap. His sheepskin jacket, threadbare at the edges, was open, but the high-necked collar of his grey army tunic132 was fastened on two brass133 buttons lending his whole figure a holiday neatness. Artem turned to face the hall and caught a fleeting134 glimpse of a familiar woman's face. It was Galina, the stonemason's daughter, sitting with her workmates from the tailor shop. She was gazing at him with a forgiving smile, and in that smile he read approval and something he could not have put into words.
"Tell them about yourself, Artem!" he heard Sirotenko say.
But it was not easy for Artem to begin his tale. He was not accustomed to addressing such a large audience, and he suddenly felt that to express all that life had stored within him was beyond his powers. He fumbled135 painfully for words, and his nervousness made it all the harder for him. Never had he experienced the like. He felt that this was a vital turning point for him, that he was about to take a step that would bring warmth and meaning into his harsh, warped136 life.
"There were four of us," Artem began.
The hall was hushed. Six hundred people listened eagerly to this tall worker with the beaked137 nose and the eyes hidden under the dark fringe of eyebrows138.
"My mother worked as cook for the rich folk. I hardly remember my father; he and mother didn't get along. He drank too much. So mother had to take care of us kids. It was hard for her with so many mouths to feed. She slaved from morning till night and got four rubles a month and her grub. I was lucky enough to get two winters of school. They taught me to read and write, but when I turned nine my mother had to send me to work as an apprentice139 in a machine shop. I worked for three years for nothing but my grub. . .. The shop owner was a German named Foerster. He didn't want to take me at first, said I was too young. But I was a sturdy lad, and my mother added on a couple of years. I worked three years for that German, but instead of learning a trade I had to do odd jobs around the house, and run for vodka. The boss drank like a fish. . . . He'd send me to fetch coal and iron too.. . . The mistress made a regular slave out of me: I had to peel potatoes and scour140 pots. I was always getting kicked and cuffed141, most times for no reason, just out of habit. If I didn't please the mistress — and she was always on the rampage on account of her husband's drinking — she would beat me. I'd run away from her out into the street, but where could I go, who was there to complain to? My mother was forty miles away, and she couldn't keep me anyway.... And in the shop it wasn't any better. The master's brother was in charge, a swine of a man who used to enjoy playing tricks on me. 'Here boy,' he'd say, 'fetch me that washer from over there,' and he'd point to the corner by the forge. I'd run over and grab the washer and let out a yell.
It had just come out of the forge; and though it looked black lying there on the ground, when you touched it, it burned right through the flesh. I'd stand there screaming with the pain and he'd burst his sides laughing. I couldn't stand any more of this and I ran away home to mother. But she didn't know what to do with me, so she brought me back. She cried all the way there, I remember. In my third year they began to teach me something about the trade, but the beatings continued. I ran away again, this time to Starokonstantinov. I found work in a sausage factory and wasted more than a year and a half washing casings. Then our boss gambled away his factory, didn't pay us a kopek for four months and disappeared. I got out of that hole, took a train to Zhmerinka and went to look for work. I was lucky enough to meet a railwayman there who took pity on me. When I told him I was a mechanic of sorts, he took me to his boss and said I was his nephew and asked him to find some work for me. By my size they took me for seventeen, and so I got a job as a mechanic's helper. As for my present job, I've been working here for more than eight years. That is all I can tell you about my past. You all know about my present life here."
Artem wiped his brow with his cap and heaved a deep sigh. He had not yet said the chief thing.
This was the hardest thing of all to say, but he had to say it before anyone asked the inevitable142 question. And knitting his bushy eyebrows, he went on with his story:
"Why did I not join the Bolsheviks before? That is a question you all have the right to ask me.
How can I answer? After all, I'm not an old man yet. How is it I didn't find the road here until today? I'll tell you straight, for I've nothing to hide. I missed that road, I ought to have taken it back in nineteen eighteen when we rose against the Germans. Zhukhrai, the sailor, told me so many a time. It wasn't until 1920 that I took up a rifle. When the storm was over and we had driven the Whites into the Black Sea, we came back home. Then came the family, children. ... I got all tied up in family life. But now that our Comrade Lenin is gone and the Party has issued its call, I have looked back at my life and seen what was lacking. It's not enough to defend your own power, we have to stick together like one big family, in Lenin's place, so that the Soviet143 power should stand solid like a mountain of steel. We must become Bolsheviks. It's our Party, isn't it?"
When he finished, a little abashed144 at having made such a long speech, he felt as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and, pulling himself up to his full height, he stood waiting for the questions to come.
"Any questions?" Sirotenko's voice broke the ensuing silence.
A stir ran over the gathering, but no one responded at first to the chairman's call. Then a stoker, straight from his engine and black as a beetle145, said with finality:
"What's there to ask? Don't we know him? Vote him in and be done with it!"
Gilyaka, the smith, his face scarlet146 from the heat and the excitement, cried out hoarsely147:
"This comrade's the right sort, he won't jump the rails, you can depend on him. Vote him, Sirotenko!"
At the very back of the hall where the Komsomols were sitting, someone, invisible in the semidarkness, rose and said:
"Let Comrade Korchagin explain why he has settled on the land and how he reconciles his peasant status with his proletarian psychology148."
A light rustle149 of disapproval passed over the hall and a voice rose in protest:
"Why don't you talk so us plain folks can understand? A fine time to show off...."
But Artem was already replying:
"That's all right, Comrade. The lad is right about my having settled on the land. That's true, but I haven’t betrayed my working-class conscience. Anyhow, that's over and done with from today.
I'm moving my family closer to the sheds. It's better here. That cursed bit of land has been sticking in my throat for a long time."
Once again Artem's heart trembled when he saw the forest of hands raised in his favour, and with head held high he walked back to his seat. Behind him he heard Sirotenko announce:
"Unanimous."
The third to take his place at the presidium table was Zakhar Bruzzhak, Polentovsky's former helper. The taciturn old man had been an engine driver himself now for some time. When he finished his account of a lifetime of labour and brought his story up to the present, his voice dropped and he spoke softly but loud enough for all to hear:
"It is my duty to finish what my children began. They wouldn't have wanted me to hide away in a corner with my grief. That isn't what they died for. I haven't tried to fill the gap left by their death,but now the death of our leader has opened my eyes. Don't ask me to answer for the past. From today our life starts anew."
Zakhar's face clouded and looked stern as painful memories stirred within him. But when a sea of hands swept up, voting for his acceptance into the Party, his eyes lit up and his greying head was no longer bowed.
Far into the night continued this review of the new Party replacements150. Only the best were admitted, those whom everyone knew well, whose lives were without blemish151.
The death of Lenin brought many thousands of workers into the Bolshevik Party. The leader was gone but the Party's ranks were unshaken. A tree that has thrust its mighty roots deep into the ground does not perish if its crown is severed152.
电车沿丰杜克列耶夫大街吃力地向上爬行，马达一个劲地呜呜叫着。它开到歌剧院门前，停了下来，一群青年下了车，它又继续向上爬去。
潘克拉托夫不住地催促落在后面的人：“快走吧，同志们。咱们肯定要迟到了。”
奥库涅夫到歌剧院门口才赶上他，说：“你记得吧，伊格纳特，三年前咱们也是这样来开会的。
那时候，柯察金、杜巴瓦和一群‘工人反对派’回到咱们队伍里来了。那天晚上的会开得真好。今天咱们又要跟杜巴瓦斗一斗了。”
他们向站在门口的检查小组出示了证件，走进了会场。这时，潘克拉托夫才回答说：“是呀，杜巴瓦的这出戏又要旧地重演了。”
有人嘘了一声，要他们保持肃静。他们只好就近找位子坐下。晚上的会议已经开始。在台上发言的是一位女同志。
“来得正是时候。快听听你老婆说些什么。”潘克拉托夫用胳膊肘捅了一下奥库涅夫，悄悄地说。
“……不错，进行这场辩论，我们花费了不少时间和精力，但是，青年们参加辩论，学到了很多东西。我们可以非常满意地指出这样一个事实，就是在我们的组织里，托洛茨基信徒们的失败已经成为定局。我们给了他们发言的机会，让他们充分说明他们的观点。在这方面，他们是没有什么可抱怨的。恰恰相反，他们甚至滥用了我们给他们的行动自由，干了一连串严重破坏党纪的事情。”
塔莉亚非常激动，一绺头发垂到脸上，妨碍她说话。她把头向后一甩，继续说：“各区来的许多同志在这儿发了言，他们都谈到了托洛茨基分子采用的种种手段。出席这次大会的托洛茨基派的代表相当多嘛。各区特意发给他们代表证，好让大家在这次市党代会上再听听他们的意见。他们发言不多，那不能怪我们。他们在各区和各支部都遭到了彻底的失败，多少学乖了一点，他们很难再跑上这个讲台，把那些老调重弹一遍。”
突然，会场右角有个人刺耳地喊了一声，打断了塔莉亚的发言：“我们还是要说话的。”
塔莉亚转身对那个人说：“好吧，杜巴瓦，那就请上来说吧，我们倒要听听。”
杜巴瓦恼恨地看着她，神经质地撇了撇嘴。
“到时候自然会说！”他喊了一句，立刻想起他昨天在索洛缅卡区的惨败，那个区里的人都知道他。
会场上发出一阵不满的嗡嗡声。潘克拉托夫忍不住喊了起来：“怎么，你们还想动摇我们的党吗？”
杜巴瓦听出了他的声音，但是连头也没有回，只是用力咬住嘴唇，低下了头。
塔莉亚继续说：“就拿杜巴瓦来说吧，他正是托洛茨基分子破坏党纪的一个突出的典型。他做了很长时间的共青团工作，许多人都认识他，兵工厂的人更了解他。杜巴瓦现在是哈尔科夫共产主义大学的学生，可是，我们大家知道，他跟米海拉·什科连科在这儿已经呆了三个星期。这时候大学里功课正紧张，他们跑到这儿来干什么呢？全市没有一个区他们没有去讲演过。
不错，最近什科连科开始醒悟了。谁派他们到这儿来的？除了他们两个以外，我们这儿还有许多外地来的托洛茨基分子。
他们以前都在这儿工作过，现在回来就是为了在党内煽风点火。他们所在的党组织知不知道他们现在在什么地方呢？当然不知道。”
台下传来了舒姆斯基的喊声：“我们没办法，都在灌木丛里打小工，我们没有地方办公。”
会场上响起了一阵哄笑，舒姆斯基自己也笑了。
舒姆斯基的玩笑暂时缓和了会场上的紧张气氛。大家都在等待托洛茨基分子出来发言，承认自己的错误。不管怎么说，这些同志虽然凶恶地反对多数派，他们同出席市党代会的这四百名代表过去毕竟共过患难，只不过由于不肯悬崖勒马，反而猛烈攻击党和共青团的领导，这种共同性才日渐消失，到前来参加会议的时候，压倒的多数派和分裂的少数派已经势不两立了。然而，只要杜巴瓦、舒姆斯基和他们那伙人真心诚意悔过自新，那么，言归于好仍然是可能的。可惜的是，这件事没有发生。
塔莉亚还在动脑筋，要说服他们承认错误。她说：“同志们，大家该还记得，三年前，也是在这个剧场里，杜巴瓦同志和一批‘工人反对派’的成员回到了咱们的队伍里。当时，柯察金发了言，这个发言同时也是受杜巴瓦同志委托做的，发言中说：‘党的旗帜永远不会从我们手中掉下去。’大家还记得吧？但是，不到三年，杜巴瓦同志已经把党的旗帜抛弃了。他刚才说：‘我们还是要说话的。’这说明，他和他的同伙还要继续顽抗下去。
“我回过头来讲一讲杜巴瓦在佩乔拉区代表会议上的发言。他都说了些什么，我念念速记记录：“年轻人不得担任党的领导职务。党委会到处都是由上面指派的，党的机关已经僵化，变成了官僚。一切迹象表明，老干部已经蜕化了。党的领导工作只能由这些职业管理人员来担任成了法规，这种合法的特权必须打破。我们要给党机关的日益衰老的机体注入新鲜的血液，年轻的血液。但是，党机关在疯狂地捍卫自己掌权的权利。为什么管理机关要拼命攻击托洛茨基同志呢？因为正是他勇敢地说出了这样的话：青年是党的晴雨表。”
会场上的喧闹声更大了。后排有人喊道：“让图夫塔谈谈晴雨表吧，他是他们的气象学家。”
会场上发出激烈的喊声：“别开玩笑！”
“让他们回答：他们还搞不搞反党活动了？”
“让他们交代，那篇反党宣言是谁写的？”
大家的情绪越来越激昂，执行主席不住地摇铃。
会场上人声嘈杂，淹没了塔莉亚的声音。不过，这场风暴很快就过去了，又可以听到她的讲话：“托洛茨基分子抱怨说，他们受到了无情的斥责。那他们要什么礼遇呢？最近几年，党和共青团思想上已经成长起来，坚强起来。党的绝大多数青年积极分子以刺刀来迎接托洛茨基分子的挑战，我们只能为此而感到骄傲。当辩论深入到广大党团员群众中去之后，托洛茨基分子输得就更惨了。他们到处煽风点火，夸夸其谈，可基层干部并不上他们的当。杜巴瓦和舒姆斯基同志有很多朋友，可朋友们也不支持他们，这并不是我们的过错。
“一九二一年舒姆斯基曾和我们一起同杜巴瓦斗争。如今他们同流合污了。茨韦塔耶夫过去就参加过‘工人反对派’，现在他继续同我们作对。斯塔罗韦罗夫摇摆不定，一会儿向东，一会儿向西。斗争使我们受到了锻炼。青年们思想上成长起来。
“我还想说一点。我们经常收到各地同志们的来信，表示支持我们，这使我们深受鼓舞。我们是一个家庭的成员，损失哪一个同志对我们来说都是痛心的。现在，请允许我读一段来信给大家听听。信是奥莉加·尤列涅娃写来的。在座的人很多都认识她。她现在是共青团专区委员会的组织部长。”
塔莉亚从一沓信纸里抽出一张来，很快看了一遍，就读起来：日常工作停顿了，四天来所有的常委都下到各区去了。托洛茨基分子挑起了一场空前激烈的斗争。昨天发生的事引起了全专区党员的极大愤慨。反对派在市里任何一个支部都没有得到多数人的支持，于是就决定集中力量，在专区军务部的党支部里大干一场。这个支部包括专区计划部和工人教育部的党员，总共四十二个人，托洛茨基分子全都集中到了这里，参加这个支部的会议，并且发表了前所未闻的恶毒的反党言论。军务部有一个人竟公然宣称：“过去我们追随托洛茨基进行了国内战争。现在如果需要，我们准备接着打下去。为了健全机体，有时就得动外科手术。如果党的机关不投降，我们就用武力摧毁它。”
反对派听了这样的话，居然还鼓掌。这时，保尔站了起来，发表了义正词严的讲话。我没法把他的话全部转述出来。
他揭露了胆敢在工人阶级政党头顶上挥舞马刀的反对派的真实嘴脸，斥责反对派说：“你们作为布尔什维克党的成员，怎么能给这样一个法西斯分子鼓掌喝彩呢？”
这帮人马上鼓噪起来，把椅子敲得乒乓乱响，不让保尔说下去，还不断叫骂：“机关老爷！官僚！共青团贵族！”
支部的有些成员，见到会场上涌进来那么多“外人”，非常生气，他们要求让保尔把话说完，可保尔刚一开口，这帮人又都起哄。
保尔冲他们喊道：“瞧你们的民主，真是绝妙的写照。不管你们怎么闹，我还是要说下去，哪怕是为了那些中托洛茨基的毒还不太深的人也要说。”
这时候，上来好几个人，抓住保尔，使劲往台下拽。他们干脆撒起野来了。保尔一边挣扎，一边继续往下讲。那些人把他拖到后台，打开旁门，扔了出去。有一个坏蛋还把他的脸打出血来。那个支部的党员几乎全都退场了。这件事擦亮了许多人的眼睛，他们退出了反对派……
塔莉亚放下拿着信纸的手，又激动地说下去：“我们谢加连区的党团员听到保尔站在我们一边，非常高兴。”
会场上一时间又响起了混杂在一起的喊声，只有几句能听清楚：“他们争取民主靠的是拳头。”
“让他们说说，他们到底什么目的。”
塔莉亚的发言时间已到，她走下了讲台。
下面还有人要发言。台上的主席团有十五个成员，其中有托卡列夫和谢加尔。
谢加尔到省党委担任宣传鼓动部部长的职务已经两个月了。他仔细听着市党代会各位代表的发言，到现在为止，发言的还全是年轻代表。
“三年前还都是些‘共青娃娃’呢，是又细又瘦的嫩枝条。
这三年他们成长得多快呀。”谢加尔轻声对身旁几位年纪大的人说。
“看到反对派竭力破坏新老近卫军的团结，却遇到如此多的困难，心里真是舒坦，而我们的重炮还没有投入战斗呢。”
托卡列夫听到谢加尔又在诙谐地说。
这时图夫塔连蹦带跳跑上了主席台，会场上对他发出一阵不满的喧嚷和短暂的哄笑。图夫塔转向主席团，想就此提出抗议，但是会场已经安静下来了。
“刚才有人管我叫气象学家。多数派同志们，你们就是这样讥笑我的政治观点吗？”他一口气说了出来。
一阵哄堂大笑盖住了他的声音。图夫塔气愤地指着会场上的情况，要主席团看看。
“不管你们怎么笑，我还是要再说一遍：青年就是晴雨表。
列宁有好几次就是这样说的。”
会场上霎时安静了下来。
“列宁是怎么说的？”有人问。
图夫塔马上来了精神。
“准备十月起义的时候，列宁曾经下令把最坚定的青年工人召集起来，发给他们武器，把他们和水兵一起派到最重要的地方去。我把这段话读给你们听听怎么样？列宁的原话我通通抄下来了，全在卡片上呢。”说着，他把手伸进了皮包。
“这个我们知道！”
“关于团结的问题，列宁是怎么说的？”
“关于党的纪律呢？”
“列宁在什么地方把青年和老一代近卫军对立起来过？”
图夫塔接不上碴，赶快换个话题：“刚才塔莉亚·拉古京娜在这里读了尤列涅娃的信。辩论中出现一些反常现象，我们可不能负责。至于柯察金被撵出门去这件事，我表示欣赏。一九二一年的时候，他也是反对派，他并没有制止他们的人把党委代表撵到门外去，具体来说，被撵的就是本人。在工厂里，两个小伙子挟着我的胳膊，不管我的反对，把我推到门外。舒姆斯基可以作证，他当时在场。现在让柯察金也尝尝这滋味，看是不是好受。”
茨韦塔耶夫气得要死，对坐在身旁的什科连科小声说：“真是，你让傻瓜向上帝祈祷，他连头都能磕破，太过分了！”
什科连科也小声说：“是啊！过个笨蛋准会把咱们彻底拖垮。”
图夫塔那又尖又细的声音还在往听众耳朵里钻：“你们在这里叱责我们，说我们瓦解党分裂党。我们有什么办法呢？既然党的多数派手里有党的机关作为武器，那我们也要有相应的对策。既然你们组织了多数派党团，我们也就有权利组织少数派党团。”
会场上又掀起了一阵风暴。
愤怒的吼声把图夫塔的耳朵都要震聋了。
“你说什么？再一次分裂成布尔什维克和孟什维克吗？”
“俄国共产党不是议会！”
“他们这是为所有的孟什维克卖力气——从米亚斯尼科夫到马尔托夫！”
图夫塔像要跳水似的扬起两只手，又起劲地讲起来，而且越说越快：“对，就是要有组织集团的自由。否则，我们这些持不同政见的人，怎么能同这么有组织、有纪律、团结一致的多数派斗争，来捍卫自己的观点呢？”
会场上吵嚷声越来越大了。潘克拉托夫站起来喊道：“让他把话说完，听听大有好处！图夫塔总算把有些人憋在肚子里的话端出来了。”
会场又安静下来。图夫塔这才发觉他说走了嘴。这些话恐怕现在还不该说。他脑子一转，赶忙收场，已经有点语无伦次了：“托洛茨基迫使中央全会承认了党内生活不正常。是他作出努力，使中央作出了关于党内民主的决定。你们当然可以开除我们，把我们打入冷宫。这不已经开始这样做了嘛。安东诺夫—奥夫谢延科的共和国革命军事委员会政治部主任的职务就给撤了嘛，可安东诺夫—奥夫谢延科是跟托洛茨基一起领导了十月革命的人。再说我吧，也从省团委给排挤出来了。论关系，究竟谁是谁非，很快就能见分晓。我们不怕你们指责我们破坏党内的和睦。列宁也受到过孟什维克同样的指责。莫斯科有百分之三十的党组织支持我们。我们还要战斗下去。”说完，他匆匆跑下了主席台。
杜巴瓦接过茨韦塔耶夫写给他的条子：“德米特里，你马上上去发言。当然，咱们的败局已定，无法挽回，不过图夫塔的话必须纠正，他是个信口开河的浑蛋。”
杜巴瓦要求发言，立刻得到允许。
他走上主席台的时候，全场的人都静悄悄地等待着。这种讲话前的沉寂本来是会场上常有的现象，现在却使杜巴瓦感到，大家都对他冷淡而疏远。他在各支部发言时的那股慷慨激昂的劲头已经没有了。他的情绪一天比一天低落。现在就像一堆被水浇灭的篝火，只能冒出一股呛人的浓烟；这浓烟就是他那被明显的失败和老朋友们无情的反击刺伤了的病态的自尊心，以及他那坚持错误的顽固态度。他决心硬着头皮干到底，虽然他明知这样一来，一定会离开大多数同志更远。他说话的声音不高，但是非常清楚：“我请求大家不要打断我，也不要中途插话。我想把我们的观点完整地申述一下，虽然我早就料到，这是白费唇舌，因为你们是多数。
“我尽量简短些。这十天来说的话已经不少。
“你们都知道《四十六人声明》这个文件。托洛茨基同志和党的许多著名领导干部在这个文件里尖锐批评了中央的工业政策。我们要求工业的高度集中——这是第一。我们还认为，财政改革和发行垄断性的切尔沃涅茨［切尔沃涅茨是苏俄１９２２——１９２４年币制改革时发行的纸币，有多种面额，一切尔沃涅茨相当于十卢布。流通到１９４７年。——译者］会把我们引向危机。我们本该向农民的小资产阶级自发势力施加压力，以无产阶级专政的全部威力逼迫农民交出他们的财产，但是中央没有这样做，反而否决了提高工业品价格的建议。当然，也要看到国内农民有某种罢买的情绪——他们拒绝购买工业品。
“反对派提议以强制推销日用消费品的方式来制止罢买的情况，并且全部日用消费品都从国外进口。中央拒绝向农民施加压力，吓唬我们说，这样会破坏同这个所谓的可靠同盟军的联盟。而我们认为，要把这股自发势力手中所有的一切都压榨出来，不留一个子儿，把钱财全都投入到社会主义工业中去。历史会证明我们是正确的。
“其次，我们的分歧表现在党内问题上。刚才塔莉亚·拉古京娜读了我发言的部分速记记录。我想重复说一说。
“为什么党的机关猛烈攻击托洛茨基呢？因为托洛茨基同党的官僚主义进行了斗争。高等学校的青年全都支持托洛茨基，他说的‘青年是党最重要的晴雨表’是一个真理。
“是的，同志们，托洛茨基是值得我们信赖的人。他是十月革命的领袖。他不同于季诺维也夫和加米涅夫，没有在起义面前畏缩不前。他也不同于布哈林，没有在一九一八年布列斯特和约谈判期间破坏党的统一，而布哈林，据说甚至打算因为缔结对德和约而逮捕列宁和其他同志。托洛茨基在一九○三年是第一个布尔什维克。他领导红军走向了胜利。他同列宁一样，是世界上最著名的革命家。当然，如果不是中央压制托洛茨基，我们早就向国际上的反革命势力发动进攻了。要实现真正的党内民主，所有的集团、派别都应该有权发表意见，而不能只有布尔什维克说话才算数。
“党的机关成了我们的不幸，领导成员清一色都是老近卫军这一事实使党有蜕化的危险。托洛茨基举出考茨基和保罗·勒维［保罗·勒维（１８８３—１９３０），德国工人运动活动家，德共早期领导成员，后因右倾机会主义被开除出党。——译者］作为活生生的例证，他是正确的。”
会场上的嗡嗡声和愤怒的喊声反倒使杜巴瓦更来劲了。
到现在为止，大家都在耐心地静听他的发言，只有一排排人头不安的晃动才显示出与会代表紧张激动的心情。
“叫我说，同志们，权力会毁了一个人。所以我们要奉劝你们把党的机关干部，特别是那些头头脑脑，重新下放到工厂去开机器，这一劝告也是正确的。”
茨韦塔耶夫在座位上幸灾乐祸地叫喊：“对！让他们去闻闻汽油味，办公室都成了他们的避风港啦。”
没有人答理他。大家都在等着，看杜巴瓦还会说些什么。
“我们再次声明，中央的政策将把国家引向毁灭。继续执行这个政策，要不了多久，财政和工业就会崩溃，农民就会给我们致命性的打击。除此而外，中央和你们这些支持中央的人在制造党的分裂……”
大厅里犹如爆炸了一颗手榴弹。暴风雨般的怒吼声向杜巴瓦直扑过去。愤怒的叫喊如同皮鞭抽打在杜巴瓦脸上：“可耻！”
“打倒分裂派！”
“不许血口喷人！”
喧闹声静止下来后，杜巴瓦结束了他的发言：“是的，说这些话，需要有足够的勇气。我无非是讲讲真实情况。你们肯定会找我们算帐，我也无所畏惧，大不了再去当钳工。我在前线打过仗，没做孬种，现在你们也吓不倒我。”
他当胸捶了自己一拳，决定“拂袖而去”，临了，他高喊道：“十月革命的领袖托洛茨基万岁！打倒机关老爷和官僚！”
杜巴瓦在一片嘲笑声中走下了讲台，这嘲笑声使他极为沮丧。如果大家气得暴跳如雷，他倒是会满意的。可是，现在却是讥笑他，就像讥笑一个唱歌走调砸了锅的演员一样。
“现在请什科连科发言。”执行主席说。
什科连科站起来说：“我不发言了。”
后排传来了潘克拉托夫的男低音：“我来说几句！”
杜巴瓦一听潘克拉托夫说话的声音，就知道了他现在的情绪。这个码头工人只有在受到什么人严重侮辱的时候，才用这种声音说话。杜巴瓦忧郁地看着这个身材高大、微微驼背的人快步走向主席台，心里感到沉重和不安。他知道潘克拉托夫要说什么。他想起昨天在索洛缅卡区和老朋友们聚会，大家都苦口婆心地劝他脱离反对派。当时同他在一起的有茨韦塔耶夫和什科连科。聚会的地点就在托卡列夫家里。在场的有潘克拉托夫、奥库涅夫、塔莉亚、沃伦采夫、泽列诺娃、斯塔罗韦罗夫、阿尔秋欣。他们说了很多希望恢复团结的话，杜巴瓦根本听不进去，始终一言不发。大家谈得正热烈，他和茨韦塔耶夫却扬长而去，表示不愿意承认错误。什科连科当时没有走，现在他又拒绝发言。“真是个没骨气的知识分子！
一定是让他们争取过去了。”杜巴瓦愤愤地想。在这场斗争中，他这样不顾一切，恣意妄为，已经使他失去了所有的朋友。在共产主义大学，他同扎尔基的多年友谊也破裂了，因为扎尔基在常委会上激烈反对“四十六人声明”。后来，他们的分歧更加严重，杜巴瓦就不跟扎尔基说话了。他有好几回看见扎尔基到他家来找他的妻子安娜。他和安娜结婚已经一年了，两个人各有各的房间。安娜不同意杜巴瓦的观点，他们的夫妻关系比较紧张，而且正在日益恶化，杜巴瓦认为，关系恶化还有另一个原因，就是扎尔基最近成了她的常客。这倒不是出于嫉妒，而是因为他已经同扎尔基绝了交，可是安娜却仍然同扎尔基保持着友谊，所以十分恼火。后来他把这话对安娜说了，两个人大吵了一场，关系就越发紧张了。这次杜巴瓦离家，跟安娜连招呼也没有打，就到这里来了。
他的回忆被潘克拉托夫的声音所打断，潘克拉托夫开始发言了。
“同志们！”潘克拉托夫把这三个字说得清楚而有力。他走上了主席台，站在台口上。“同志们！我们进行激烈的辩论，今天是第九天了。各个支部通宵达旦地开会，我们看见了许多东西，也听到了许多东西。现在，城里的辩论已接近尾声。
我们这里的会议，再召开一次也要结束了。枝节问题我们放到一边去，它们无关大局。我想讲讲主要的东西。昨天我们讨论了中央关于经济问题的决议。反对派的四十六个成员去年九月向中央递交了他们著名的声明，这个声明成了从工人反对派残余到民主集中派的一切敌对集团和派别的反党旗帜。这些形形式式的集团和派别是由托洛茨基和他的信徒们领导的。显然，杜巴瓦深入钻研过这个文件。托洛茨基分子对我们说了些什么呢？他们说，党中央和多数派把国家引向毁灭，而他们则是被派来的救世主。我要直截了当地说：他们的发言不像是我们的战友，不像是革命战士，不像是和我们共同斗争的阶级弟兄。他们的发言是充满敌意的、嚣张的、恶毒的和诽谤性的。是的，同志们，是诽谤性的！他们把我们布尔什维克说成是党内专横制度的拥护者，说成是出卖阶级利益和革命利益的人。他们污蔑我们党内最优秀的、久经考验的、光荣的布尔什维克老战士，也就是说，污蔑那些培育和锻炼了俄国共产党的人，那些在沙皇监牢里受尽了折磨的人，那些在列宁同志领导下同国际上的孟什维主义、同托洛茨基进行了无情斗争的人。他们污蔑这些人，说这些人是党的官僚主义的化身，是一个大权独揽的、类似于‘党内贵族’的特殊阶层。除了敌人，谁还能说出这种话来？那么，在这种情况下，托洛茨基分子该做些什么呢？只有一件事——揪哇，砸呀，斫哪。他们中有些人说走了嘴，泄漏了天机。尤列涅娃信里谈到了这一点。这场斗争表明，在我们的队伍中确实有这样一些人，他们随时准备破坏党的统一，践踏党的纪律，每当党遇到困难，他们就兴风作浪，瓦解党的组织。让我们来揭开反对派的真面目吧。
“难道党中央在决议里没有指出我们的某些组织中存在着官僚主义和过多的集中？难道十二月五日没有作出关于工人民主权利的决定？都有过，而且托洛茨基投了赞成票。党内每一个布尔什维克都有机会发表自己的意见，提出改进工作的建议。剩下要做的，只是在统一的党的家庭内部进行讨论，共同努力克服困难，把事业推向前进。
“托洛茨基做了些什么呢？就在他投票赞成他完全同意的那个决议作出的第二天，他越过中央，直接向党员群众发出了他那份臭名昭著的声明。接着，党内所有的反对派便疯狂地向党中央开火。本来应该扎扎实实地讨论我们经济工作和党内生活中的问题，现在却打起了党内战争。托洛茨基企图把青年武装起来，把他们当枪使，反对老一辈革命家。他想破坏新老两代人牢不可破的团结。他和他的追随者竭力诽谤中央和革命老战士。党内多数同志对这种空前的、搞突然袭击的反党行径十分愤慨，向反对派展开了无情的全面反击。于是他们便污蔑我们压制他们。可谁相信这些鬼话呢？
“我们基辅现有的托派宣传鼓动家不下四十名。有从莫斯科来的，有从哈尔科夫来的一大帮，还有两个来自彼得格勒。
这些人我们全都让他们讲话。我相信，不论到哪个支部，他们不会错过造谣中伤的机会，杜巴瓦、舒姆斯基，还有另外几个过去的干部都不属本地组织，按规定他们无权参加各区和市的代表会议，但是我们还是给他们发了代表证。他们可以发表自己的意见。如果他们遭到多数人的尖锐的、毫不留情的谴责，那责任不在我们身上。
“请听听他们给别人起的那个污辱性的绰号‘机关老爷’吧。里面包含了多少仇恨！难道党和党的机关不是一个整体？
他们对青年说：‘瞧那些机关，它们是你们的敌人，朝它们开火吧。’“这叫什么话？这种话只能出自颓废的无政府主义者之口，而不是布尔什维克之口。
“请大家说说看，假如有人恰恰在部队被敌人包围的时候，出来挑唆年轻的红军战士，叫他们去反对他们的指挥员、政委、司令部，我们管这些人叫什么呢？
“又比方说，我今天当钳工，在托洛茨基看来，我还可以算是个‘好人’，要是我明天当上了党委书记，那我就是‘官僚’，成了‘机关老爷’了。这叫什么逻辑！
“你们是不是明白，托洛茨基派进行这种诽谤，会落个什么下场？他们不可避免地会变成无产阶级革命的敌人。
“我们的各级党委过去是，将来仍然是我们的司令部。我们把最优秀的布尔什维克派到那里去工作，并且决不允许任何人损害他们的威望。”
潘克拉托夫喘了一口气，抬手擦去前额上的汗珠。
“反对派要求结派的自由，也就是说，他们要在党内不受拘束地结帮结伙，这意味着什么呢？这意味着，他们要把我们的党变成争论不休的俱乐部。这意味着，今天党作出一项决议，明天某一个团伙便可以要求废除这项决议。争论又随之而至。到那时候，我们全都成了一群糊涂虫。
“我们党是一个行动的党。既然作出了决议，所有党员都应该贯彻执行。只能如此。否则，我们不可能成为一支不可动摇的力量。布尔什维克是不会同意结派自由的。
“还有一点需要指出。反对派拢络的都是些什么人呢？大部分是高校的青年。托洛茨基称他们是晴雨表，是党的基石。
可是我们这儿任何一个小孩都知道，党的基石是老一辈革命近卫军，是机床旁边的工人。
“反对派里有图夫塔、茨韦塔耶夫，还有阿法纳西耶夫这样一些人。图夫塔是因为官僚主义不久前被撤职的，茨韦塔耶夫那套‘民主’在索洛缅卡区是出了名的，阿法纳西耶夫则因为在波多拉区搞强迫命令和压制民主三次被省委撤销职务。反对派一方面起劲地叫喊争取民主，一方面又网罗这样一批人，同志们，这岂非咄咄怪事？
“固然，反对派里也有生产第一线的工人。可事实毕竟是：那些因为工作方法问题受过党批评处分的人，都纠合在一起向党进行斗争了。这是一幅什么情景呢？杜巴瓦、舒姆斯基带领被他们蒙蔽的工人打头阵，他们的侧翼则是昨天还是官僚主义者和形式主义者，今天却在猛烈攻击官僚主义的图夫塔之流。谁能相信他们呢？
“托洛茨基成了反对派的旗帜。我们听到他们千万次地重复：‘托洛茨基是十月革命的领袖’，‘他是打败了反革命势力的胜利者’，‘他是党的最早的领袖’等等。
“他们逼得我们非谈这个问题不可，那我们就一劳永逸地把托洛茨基在我国革命中的作用彻底弄清楚。反对派讲到十月起义的时候，很少提到列宁同志的名字，这不是偶然的。他们也不提中央委员会。彼得格勒的布尔什维克，彼得格勒的革命工人、水兵、士兵更不在话下。他们只有一个人——托洛茨基。
“反对派企图以托洛茨基偷偷取代全世界无产阶级最伟大的领袖列宁，取代我们的党，而托洛茨基是一九一七年才加入多数派的。他们为什么要这么干？目的仍然没有变：为了派别斗争的利益，为了蒙蔽不了解我党历史的人，把这些人拉到他们一边去。只要能达到目的，手段在所不惜。
“对反对派来说，在国内战争中，无论是列宁，还是党，还是为苏维埃政权英勇战斗的千百万战士，都是不存在的。只存在一个人——托洛茨基。这也不是偶然的。但是，我们是亲身参加了斗争的见证人，我们知道谁是胜利的领袖。是党和党的领袖列宁，是我们光荣的布尔什维克中央委员会领导无产阶级战胜了敌人，是我们红军战斗员和指挥员战胜了敌人。这伟大的胜利是用劳动人民的儿女的鲜血换来的，而不是某个人取得的。”潘克拉托夫的话声调高昂，铿锵有力，他讲到这里，暂停了一下。
全场对他的这些话报以暴风雨般的掌声。这掌声是奔腾的洪流，汹涌澎湃，来势迅猛，仿佛正在吞没堤岸。
杜巴瓦不止一次听到这洪流的咆哮。这些日子他参加支部会和区代表会议，总是被这洪流席卷而去。他领教过它的威力。过去，当他和大家并肩前进的时候，他的心、他的身子曾经是这不可阻挡的洪流中的一滴。如今他和他的一小撮同党却逆潮流而动，过去引起他内心共鸣的东西，如今向他猛扑过来，把他扔到了浅滩上。潘克拉托夫讲的话，每个字都在他心里引起病态的反响。他真恨不得这样讲话的是他杜巴瓦，而不是这个从第聂伯河畔来的码头工人。瞧他那么结实，表里都是一块整料，不是他杜巴瓦那种裂成两半的、正在失去立足之地的货色。潘克拉托夫又在接着说下去：“至于十月革命前托洛茨基的布尔什维主义是什么东西，还是让老布尔什维克们来介绍吧。年轻人对此知之不多。现在既然用他的名字同党对抗，那我们就必须了解托洛茨基反对布尔什维克的全部历史，了解他是怎样反复无常，经常从一个营垒跳到另一个营垒的。党应该了解，是谁把各个少数派纠集在一起，组织八月联盟来反对列宁和布尔什维克的。这些事都要写成书印出来。托洛茨基既然成为分裂的组织者，我们就要摘下他的桂冠，还他以昨日的和今日的本来面目。
“托洛茨基在十月革命中的斗争表现不错，所以党委他以重任。党为他树立了威望，对他高度信任。如果说这个人曾经是个英雄，那也是在他同我们步伐一致的时候。托洛茨基在十月革命前不是布尔什维克，革命之后他摇摇摆摆地总是走曲线，无论是布列斯特和约谈判，还是有关职工会的争论，或者这次向党发动空前规模的进攻，都是如此。
“同反对派的斗争，使我们的队伍更加团结，使青年们在思想上更加坚强了。布尔什维克党和共青团在反对各种小资产阶级思潮的斗争中得到了锻炼。反对派里那些患有歇斯底里恐慌症的先生们预言，明天我们在政治上和经济上一定要破产。我们的未来会证明这种预言究竟有多大价值。
他们要求把我们的老同志，比如托卡列夫和谢加尔同志，派去看车床，而让杜巴瓦这样的把反党活动当做英雄行为的失灵的晴雨表占据老同志的岗位。不行，同志们，我们不能这样做。老布尔什维克是要有人接班的，但是，绝不能让一有风吹草动就向党的路线猖狂进攻的人来接替他们。我们决不允许任何人破坏我们伟大的党的团结。老一代和青年一代近卫军永远不会分裂。他们是一个整体，如同人的肌体一样。
正是在团结中才体现出我们的力量，我们的坚定性。同志们，前进，迎着困难，迈向我们的目标！我们在列宁的旗帜下，同各种小资产阶级思潮进行斗争，一定会取得胜利！”
潘克拉托夫走下讲台，全场向他热烈鼓掌。会场上许多人站了起来。自发地唱起了无产阶级庄严的国际歌。
第二天，图夫塔那里聚集了十来个人。杜巴瓦说：“我跟什科连科今天就动身回哈尔科夫去。我们在这儿已经没什么事可干了。你们尽量不要散伙。咱们只有等待时局发生变化了。很明显，全俄党代表会议一定会批判咱们，不过，我认为，还不至于马上采取迫害行动。多数派决定在工作中再考验考验咱们。现在，特别是在这次大会之后，再搞公开斗争，就会被开除出党，这可不合咱们的行动计划。将来会怎么样，现在还难以预料。就这样吧，好像也没什么可说的了。”杜巴瓦站起来要走。
细身材、薄嘴唇的斯塔罗韦罗夫也站了起来，咬着舌头，结结巴巴地说：“德米特里，我不懂你的意思。是不是说大会的决议咱们不一定服从？”
茨韦塔耶夫粗暴地打断了他的话：“形式上还得服从，要不，你就别想要党证了。咱们看看刮什么风再说，现在散会吧。”
图夫塔在椅子上不安地动了一下。什科连科愁眉不展，脸色苍白，因为老是失眠，眼圈发黑。他一直靠窗坐着，苦苦地啃着指甲。一听茨韦塔耶夫最后这几句话，他突然把手放下，朝在场的人转过身来。
“我反对来这一套。”他生气地粗声说。“我个人认为，大会的决议我们必须服从。我们已经申述了自己的观点，大会的决议我们应该服从。”
斯塔罗韦罗夫用赞同的目光看了看他。
“我也是这个意思。”他咬嘴咬舌地说。
杜巴瓦狠狠地盯住什科连科，咬着牙，非常露骨地挖苦他说：“悉听尊便，根本没人管你。你还有机会到省党代会上去‘忏悔’呢。”
什科连科跳了起来。
“你这是什么话，德米特里，老实说，你这话只能让人反感，我不得不重新考虑昨天的立场。”
杜巴瓦把手往外一挥，对他说：“你只能走这条路了。快认罪去吧，现在还不晚。”
杜巴瓦同图夫塔等人一一握手告别。
他走后，什科连科和斯塔罗韦罗夫接着也走了。
一九二四年在滴水成冰的严寒中来到了。整个一月份，冰雪覆盖着祖国大地，天气异常寒冷，月中又刮起暴风，大雪下个不停。
西南的铁路线全被大雪封住了。人们和这无情的天灾展开了斗争。除雪车的螺旋转子钻进高大的雪堆，为火车开路。
因为天冷风大，结上冰的电报线断了不少，十二条线路只有印欧线和另外两条直通线还畅通无阻。
在舍佩托夫卡火车一站的报务室里，三架莫尔斯电报机啪嗒啪嗒地响着，只有内行人才能听懂这不绝于耳的密语。
两个女报务员都很年轻。从开始工作到现在，经她们手收发的电报纸条，顶多也就两万米长，可是，跟她们同事的老报务员却已经超过二十万米了。收报的时候，他用不着像她们那样，看着纸条，皱着眉头，去拼读那些难认的词和句子。他根据电报机的嗒嗒声，就能把电文译出来，一个字一个字地抄在纸上。现在他正在收听并记录电文：“同文发往各站，同文发往各站，同文发往各站！”
老报务员一边抄录，一边想：“大概又是清除积雪的通知。”外面狂风呼啸，卷起团团白雪，向玻璃窗上打来。老报务员觉得好像有人在敲窗户。他转过头去，不由得欣赏起玻璃窗上那美丽的霜花来。霜花的图案有枝有叶，精巧别致，是任何巧手都刻不出来的。
他看得入了神，竟忘记了听机器的响声。等他回过头来，已经漏过了一段电文，他托起纸条读道：“一月二十一日晚六时五十分……”
他迅速抄下这段电文，然后放下纸条，用手托着头，继续往下听：“在高尔克村逝世……”
他慢慢地记下来。一生中他不知收听过多少讣闻和喜讯，他总是最先知道别人的痛苦和幸福。那些简略而又不完整的句子究竟说些什么，他早就不去留意了。他耳朵听着，手机械地记着，根本不理会它的内容。
不过是某某人死了，通知某某人而已。老报务员已经忘了电文开头的几个字：“同文发往各站，同文发往各站，同文发往各站！”机器嗒嗒地响着，他边听边译：“弗……拉……基……米……尔——伊……里……奇……”他平静地坐在那里，已经有点累了。在某个地方死了一个叫做弗拉基米尔·伊里奇的人。他现在把这个噩耗抄下来，有人收到后会悲伤地放声痛哭。可是这跟他毫不相干，他不过是个旁观者。机器嗒嗒地拍出几点，一划，又是几点，又是一划。老报务员听着这熟悉的声音，立即译出第一个字母，在电文纸上写了一个“R”，接着又写上第二个字母“W”，然后又工整地写上“Ｈ”，两竖中间的短横还特意描了两次。“Ｈ”后面是“X”，最后一个字母一听就知道是“Ｈ”。
收报机接着打出了间隔，他只用十分之一秒的时间瞥了一眼刚刚抄录下来的五个字母，拼在一起是：“RＥＨXＨ”（“列宁”）。
机器还在啪嗒啪嗒地响着。老报务员刚才偶然碰到的那个十分熟悉的名字再一次出现在他的脑海里。他又看了一遍最后那两个字：“列宁”。怎么？……列宁？……他把电报纸拿远一些，看着电报的全文，瞪大眼睛看了好一会儿，于是，他干这一行三十二年以来，第一次不相信自己亲手抄的电文了。
他把电文反复看了三次，看来看去还是那句话：“弗拉基米尔·伊里奇·列宁逝世。”老报务员从座上跳了起来，抓起卷曲着的纸条，两眼紧紧盯着它。他不敢相信的消息还是被这段两米长的纸条证实了！他把煞白的脸转向两个女同事。她们听到了他的惊叫：“列宁逝世了！”
这个惊人的噩耗从敞开的房门溜出了报务室，像狂风一样迅速地传遍了车站，冲到暴风雪里，在铁路线和交叉点上旋绕着，又随着一股寒冷的气流钻进机车库那扇半开的大铁门里。
机车库里的一号修车地沟上停着一台机车，小修队的工人正在修理它。波利托夫斯基老头亲自下到地沟里，钻到自己这台机车的肚子底下，把有毛病的地方指给钳工们看。勃鲁扎克和阿尔焦姆正在把压弯了的炉条锤平。勃鲁扎克钳住炉箅子，放在砧子上，阿尔焦姆一锤一锤地锤打着。
勃鲁扎克这几年老多了。他经历过的一切在他额上刻下了很深的皱纹，两鬓白了，背也驼了，一双眼睛深深凹陷进去，流露出一副忧伤的神情。
机车库的门半开着，射进一线光亮，一个人从外面跑了进来，在傍晚的昏暗中看不清这个人是谁。铁锤敲打的声音淹没了他的第一声叫喊。但是，当他跑到在机车旁边干活的人们跟前时，阿尔焦姆举起的锤子在空中停住了。
“同志们，列宁逝世了！”
锤子慢慢地从阿尔焦姆肩上滑下来，他轻轻地把它放在水泥地上。
“你说什么？”阿尔焦姆听到来人报告的这个惊人消息，手像钳子一样紧紧抓住了他的皮外套。
那个人满身是雪，大口喘着气，用低沉而又悲痛的声音重复了一遍：“真的，同志们，列宁去世了……”
因为这回他没有叫喊，阿尔焦姆才听明白这个可怕的消息，同时也看清了那个人的脸，原来是党组织的书记。
工人们从地沟里爬出来，默默地听着这个名闻世界的人逝世的消息。
大门旁边，有一台机车吼叫起来，大家都打了一个寒战。
接着，车站尽头的一台机车也吼叫起来，随后又是一台……
发电厂的汽笛也应和着机车那强有力的、充满不安的吼声，像炮弹飞啸一样发出了尖叫。一列客车正准备开往基辅，它那快速、漂亮的Ｃ型机车敲响了铜钟，清脆响亮的钟声盖过了其他声音。
在舍佩托夫卡——华沙直达快车的波兰机车上，司机弄清了鸣笛的原因，又细听了一会儿，然后，也缓缓地举起手，抓住小链子，拉开了汽笛的阀门。这倒把国家政治保安部的一个工作人员吓了一跳。波兰司机知道，这是他最后一次拉汽笛，以后他再也不能开车了，但是他的手一直没有松开链子。机车的吼叫声，吓得包厢里的波兰信使和外交官们慌张地从柔软的沙发上跳了起来。
机车库里的人越聚越多。人们从各个门里走进来。当机车库已经挤满了人的时候，在哀痛而肃静的气氛中，有人开始讲话了。
讲话的是舍佩托夫卡专区党委书记、老布尔什维克沙拉布林。
“同志们！全世界无产阶级的领袖列宁逝世了。我们党遭受了无法弥补的损失——那位缔造了布尔什维克党并教育她同敌人进行毫不妥协斗争的人跟我们永别了……党和阶级的领袖的逝世应该是一种召唤，召唤无产阶级的优秀儿女加入我们的队伍……”
奏起了哀乐。几百个人都脱下了帽子。十五年来没有掉过眼泪的阿尔焦姆突然感到喉咙哽住了，宽厚有力的肩膀也颤抖起来。
铁路俱乐部的四壁似乎要被参加会议的人群挤倒了。外面是刺骨的严寒，门旁的两棵云杉覆盖着冰雪，大厅里却又闷又热，荷兰式炉子烧得呼呼直响，六百个人聚集在这里，参加党组织召开的追悼大会。
大厅里没有往常的嘈杂声、说笑声。巨大的悲痛使人们的嗓子喑哑了。谈话的声音都很低。几百双眼睛流露出哀痛和不安。聚集在这里的好像是一群失去了领航员的水手，他们那位久经考验的领航员被狂风巨浪卷走了。
党委会的委员们也默默地在主席台上坐下来。矮壮的西罗坚科小心地拿起铃，轻轻摇了一下，就放在桌子上。这已经够了。大厅里渐渐静下来，静得使人感到压抑。
报告完了以后，党委书记西罗坚科立刻从桌子后边站了起来，他宣布了一件事，这种事在追悼会上宣布是很少见的，但是并没有任何人感到惊奇。他说：“三十七位工人同志署名写了一份申请书，请求大会予以讨论。”接着，他宣读了这份申请书：西南铁路舍佩托夫卡站布尔什维克共产党组织：领袖的逝世号召我们加入布尔什维克的行列，我们请求在今天的大会上审查我们，并接受我们加入列宁的党。
在这段简短的文字下面是两排签名。
西罗坚科挨个往下念，每念一个就停几秒钟，好让到会的人记住这些熟悉的名字。
“波利托夫斯基，斯塔尼斯拉夫·济格蒙多维奇，火车司机，三十六年工龄。”
大厅里发出一片赞同声。
“柯察金，阿尔焦姆·安德列耶维奇，钳工，十七年工龄。”
“勃鲁扎克，扎哈尔·瓦西里耶维奇，火车司机，二十一年工龄。”
大厅里的声音越来越大了，西罗坚科继续往下念，大家听到的都是那些始终同钢铁和机油打交道的产业工人的名字。
当第一个签名的人走上讲台的时候，大厅里立刻鸦雀无声了。
波利托夫斯基老头讲起自己一生的经历，怎么也抑制不住内心的激动。
“……同志们，我还能说些什么呢？过去旧社会当工人的，日子过得怎么样，大家都清楚。一辈子受压迫受奴役，到老了，穷得像叫化子，两腿一伸了事。说实在的，革命在这儿刚闹起来那阵子，我想我老了，岁数大了，拖家带口的，入党的事也就放过去了。我倒是从来没帮过敌人的忙，可也没怎么参加战斗。一九○五年在华沙的工厂里参加过罢工委员会，跟布尔什维克一起闹过革命。那个时候我还年轻，干什么也干脆。老话还提它干什么！列宁死了，这对我的心打击太大了，我们永远失去了自己的朋友和知心人。什么岁数大不大，我哪能再说这话！……我不会讲话，有讲得好的，让他们讲吧。反正有一点我敢保证：永远跟着布尔什维克走，绝不含糊。”
老司机那白发苍苍的头倔强地晃了一下，白眉毛下面两只眼睛射出坚定的目光，一眨不眨地注视着大厅，好像在等待大家的裁决。
党委会请非党群众发表意见，没有一个人提出异议。表决的时候，也没有一个人反对吸收这个矮小的白发老人入党。
波利托夫斯基离开主席台的时候，已经是一名共产党员了。
会场上的每一个人都懂得，现在发生的事情是不同寻常的。老司机刚才讲话的地方，现在站着身材魁梧的阿尔焦姆。
这个钳工不知道该把他的大手往哪里放，就老是摆弄手里那顶大耳帽子。他那件衣襟磨光了的羊皮短大衣敞开着，露出里面的灰色军便服，领口上整整齐齐地扣着两颗铜钮扣，这使他显得像过节一样整洁。他把脸转向大厅，突然看到了一张熟悉的妇女的面孔：在被服厂那群工人中间坐着石匠的女儿加莉娜。她对阿尔焦姆宽恕地笑了一下。她的微笑中包含着对他的鼓励，嘴角上还露出一种含蓄的只能意会的表情。
“讲讲你的经历吧，阿尔焦姆！”他听到西罗坚科说。
阿尔焦姆不习惯在大会上发言，不知道从哪里讲起才好。
只是到现在他才感到，不可能把一生中积累的一切全讲出来。
词句老是连贯不起来，加上心情激动，就更说不出来了。这种滋味他还从来没有体会过。他清楚地意识到，他的生活已经开始发生急遽的转折——他阿尔焦姆，正在迈出最后的一步，这一步将使他那艰辛的生活变得温暖，获得新的意义。
“我母亲生了我们四个。”阿尔焦姆开始说。
会场上很肃静，六百个人聚精会神地听着这个高个子、鹰钩鼻、浓眉大眼的工人讲话。
“我母亲给有钱人家当佣人。父亲什么样，我记不大清了，他跟母亲合不来，酒喝得很凶。我们跟着母亲过日子，她养活那么多张嘴，可真不容易。东家管饭，她一个月才挣四个卢布，就为这几个钱，她天天起早贪黑，腰都累弯了。我总算好，有两个冬天上小学，学会了看书写字。满九岁那年，母亲实在没法，只好打发我到一家小铁工厂去当学徒，只管饭，白干三年，不给工钱……老板是个德国人，叫费斯特，他嫌我小，不愿意要，后来看我长得结实，母亲又给我多报了两岁，才把我收下。我给他干了三年，他什么手艺也没教给我，尽支使我干杂活，给他打酒。他一喝起酒来就不要命。撮煤叫我去，搬铁也叫我去……老板娘也把我当成小奴隶，叫我倒尿罐，削土豆皮。他们俩动不动就踢我一脚，常常是无缘无故的，他们就是这个脾气。因为老板常喝醉酒，老板娘对谁都没好气，稍微有点不如意，就打我几个嘴巴子。有时候我跑到街上，可是我能往哪儿逃呢？苦水能向谁吐呢？母亲离我有四十俄里，再说她那儿也没有我安身的地方……在厂里也一样。管事的是老板的弟弟。这个畜生专爱拿我开心。有一回，他指着墙角放铁匠炉的地方，对我说：‘去把那个铁套圈给我拿来。’我跑过去，伸手就拿，哪知道铁圈刚从炉子里夹出来，打完了，扔在地上的，看着是黑的，手刚碰上，皮都烫掉了。我痛得大哭大叫，他却在那儿哈哈大笑。我实在受不了这种折磨，就跑回母亲那儿去了。可她也没地方安顿我，只好又把我送回德国人那儿。一路上她光是哭。到了第三年，他们开始教我一点钳工技术了，但是还照样打我。我又跑了，一下子跑到旧康斯坦丁诺夫，进了一家灌香肠的作坊。在这个作坊整天洗肠子，像条狗似的又过了不到两年。后来老板耍钱把家当输得精光，四个月不给我们工钱，不知道溜到哪儿去了，我就离开了那个鬼地方。我搭上火车，到了日美林卡，下了车就去找活干。感谢机车库的一个工人，他很同情我。他听我说多少会点钳工，就说我是他的侄子，央求上司把我收下。他看我个子高，给我报了十七岁。就这样，我给钳工打下手。后来我转到这儿来干活，已经有九个年头了。我过去的情况就是这样。在这儿的这一段，你们全都知道。”
阿尔焦姆用帽子擦了擦前额，长长地舒了一口气。现在，还有一件最重要的，也是最难讲的事要说，不能等着别人发问。他紧皱着浓眉。继续讲下去：“人人都会问我，为什么革命烈火刚烧起来的时候，我没有成为布尔什维克？对这个问题，我能说些什么呢？说老吧，我还早着呢。我只能说，我是今天才找到自己的这条路。我有什么可隐瞒的呢？以前就是没有看清路。早在一九一八年，举行反德大罢工的时候，就应该走上这条路。有个水兵，叫朱赫来，跟我谈过不止一次。直到一九二○年，我才拿起枪来战斗。后来战争结束了，白匪给扔进了黑海。我们就转回来了。我成了家，有了孩子……一头钻到家务事里去了。现在，我们的列宁同志逝世了，党向我们发出了号召，我回头看看自己的生活，看清楚了我一生中缺少的是什么。单单保卫过自己的政权是不够的，我们应该一致动员起来，接替列宁，把苏维埃政权建设成铁打的江山。我们都应该成为布尔什维克——党是我们的党嘛！”
阿尔焦姆结束了自己朴实而又极其真诚的发言，他为自己那不寻常的措词感到有些不好意思，同时像从肩上卸下了重担似的，挺直了身子，等待大家提问题。
“也许，有人想要问点什么吧？”西罗坚科打破了沉默。
会场里的人晃动起来，但是暂时还没有人说话。一个下了机车就来开会的、黑得像甲虫一样的司炉干脆利落地喊道：“还有什么可问的？难道咱们还不了解他吗？把党证给他就得了。”
矮壮的锻工基利亚卡又热又紧张，脸涨得通红，他用伤了风的沙哑声音说：“这种人是不会出岔子的，他会成为一个坚强的同志。表决吧，西罗坚科！”
后面共青团员座席上站起一个人来，由于光线很暗，看不清是谁，他说：“让柯察金同志说说，他为什么让土地缠住了，种地会不会使他丧失无产阶级意识。”
会场上掠过一阵轻轻的、不以为然的议论声。有个人出来指责那个小伙子说：“讲简单点，别跑到这儿来卖弄……”
阿尔焦姆打断他说：“没关系，同志，这小伙子说得对，我是叫土地缠住了。
这是实在的，不过我并没有因为这个把工人阶级的良心扔掉。
从今天起就一刀两断。我一定把家搬到工厂附近来，住在这儿更牢靠些。要不然，那块地会压得我喘不过气来。”
阿尔焦姆看见会场上举起很多手臂，他的心又哆嗦了一下。他感到浑身轻松，挺胸阔步向自己的座位走去。身后传来了西罗坚科的声音：“一致通过！”
第三个走上主席台的是勃鲁扎克。波利托夫斯基的这个沉默寡言的老助手，早就当上司机了。他介绍了自己劳苦的一生，快结束的时候，讲到了最近的感受。他说话声音很低，但是大家都听得很清楚。
“我有义务完成我两个孩子没有完成的事业。他们牺牲了，可并不是为了让我躲在房后去哭。我还没有补上他们牺牲的损失。这回领袖的逝世打开了我的眼界。过去的事情大家就不要问我了，真正的生活打现在起重新开始。”
勃鲁扎克回忆起往事，心绪很乱，忧伤地皱着眉头。会上没有人向他提出任何尖锐的问题，就一致举手通过他入党了。他的眼睛立刻闪出了光彩。斑白的头也抬了起来。
讨论接收新党员的大会一直开到深夜。只有那些大家熟悉的、经过生活考验的、最优秀的分子，才被吸收入了党。
列宁的逝世促使几十万工人加入了布尔什维克党，领袖的去世没有造成党的队伍涣散。一棵大树，它的巨大的根子深深地扎在土壤里，只削去它的顶端，它是不会死去的。
收听单词发音 |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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organisation
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| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
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followers
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| 追随者( follower的名词复数 )； 用户； 契据的附面； 从动件 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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violations
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| 违反( violation的名词复数 )； 冒犯； 违反（行为、事例）； 强奸 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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rankled
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| v.（使）痛苦不已，（使）怨恨不已( rankle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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barometer
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| n.气压表，睛雨表，反应指标 | |
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insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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ailing
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| v.生病 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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fascist
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| adj.法西斯主义的；法西斯党的；n.法西斯主义者，法西斯分子 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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muster
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| 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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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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sectors
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| n.部门( sector的名词复数 )；领域；防御地区；扇形 | |
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quotations
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| n.引用( quotation的名词复数 )；[商业]行情（报告）；（货物或股票的）市价；时价 | |
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portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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barge
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| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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organise
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| vt.组织，安排，筹办 | |
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faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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blurt
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| vt.突然说出，脱口说出 | |
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46
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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waned
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| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
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doused
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| v.浇水在…上( douse的过去式和过去分词 )；熄灯[火] | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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51
alienating
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| v.使疏远( alienate的现在分词 )；使不友好；转让；让渡（财产等） | |
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52
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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54
jeered
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| v.嘲笑( jeer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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56
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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57
unwillingness
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| n. 不愿意，不情愿 | |
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58
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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60
rupture
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| n.破裂；(关系的)决裂；v.(使)破裂 | |
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61
censured
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| v.指责，非难，谴责( censure的过去式 ) | |
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62
aggravated
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| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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63
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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64
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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65
malicious
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| adj.有恶意的，心怀恶意的 | |
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66
slanderous
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| adj.诽谤的，中伤的 | |
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67
bureaucrats
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| n.官僚( bureaucrat的名词复数 )；官僚主义；官僚主义者；官僚语言 | |
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68
bureaucrat
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| n. 官僚作风的人，官僚，官僚政治论者 | |
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69
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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70
relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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71
functionaries
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| n.公职人员，官员( functionary的名词复数 ) | |
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72
incite
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| v.引起，激动，煽动 | |
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73
ideologically
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| adv. 意识形态上地，思想上地 | |
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74
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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75
collapse
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| vi.累倒；昏倒；倒塌；塌陷 | |
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76
replacement
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| n.取代，替换，交换；替代品，代用品 | |
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77
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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78
stammering
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的现在分词 ) | |
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79
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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80
disperse
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| vi.使分散；使消失；vt.分散；驱散 | |
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81
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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82
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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83
repent
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| v.悔悟，悔改，忏悔，后悔 | |
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84
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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85
blizzards
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| 暴风雪( blizzard的名词复数 )； 暴风雪似的一阵，大量（或大批） | |
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86
blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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87
apparatuses
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| n.器械； 装置； 设备； 仪器 | |
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88
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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89
hurling
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| n.爱尔兰式曲棍球v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的现在分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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90
panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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91
engraver
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| n.雕刻师，雕工 | |
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92
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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93
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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94
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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95
terse
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| adj.(说话，文笔)精炼的，简明的 | |
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96
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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97
wrung
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| 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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98
inscribed
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| v.写，刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；内接 | |
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99
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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100
obstinately
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| ad.固执地，顽固地 | |
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101
overhauling
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| n.大修；拆修；卸修；翻修v.彻底检查( overhaul的现在分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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102
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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103
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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104
anvil
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| n.铁钻 | |
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105
wielded
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| 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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106
furrow
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| n.沟；垄沟；轨迹；车辙；皱纹 | |
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107
silhouetted
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| 显出轮廓的，显示影像的 | |
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108
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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109
poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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110
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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111
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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113
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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114
anguished
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| adj.极其痛苦的v.使极度痛苦(anguish的过去式) | |
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115
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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116
sonorous
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| adj.响亮的，回响的；adv.圆润低沉地；感人地；n.感人，堂皇 | |
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117
diplomats
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| n.外交官( diplomat的名词复数 )；有手腕的人，善于交际的人 | |
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118
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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119
garbed
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| 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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120
suffocating
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| a.使人窒息的 | |
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121
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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122
worthiness
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| 价值，值得 | |
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123
affixed
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| adj.[医]附着的，附着的v.附加( affix的过去式和过去分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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124
memorise
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| vt.记住，熟记 | |
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125
rippled
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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126
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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127
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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128
abstained
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| v.戒（尤指酒），戒除( abstain的过去式和过去分词 )；弃权（不投票） | |
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129
momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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130
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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131
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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132
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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133
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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134
fleeting
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| adj.短暂的，飞逝的 | |
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135
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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136
warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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137
beaked
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| adj.有喙的，鸟嘴状的 | |
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138
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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139
apprentice
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| n.学徒，徒弟 | |
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140
scour
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| v.搜索；擦，洗，腹泻，冲刷 | |
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141
cuffed
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| v.掌打，拳打( cuff的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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142
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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143
Soviet
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| adj.苏联的，苏维埃的；n.苏维埃 | |
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144
abashed
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| adj.窘迫的，尴尬的v.使羞愧，使局促，使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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145
beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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146
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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147
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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148
psychology
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| n.心理，心理学，心理状态 | |
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149
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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150
replacements
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| n.代替( replacement的名词复数 )；替换的人[物]；替代品；归还 | |
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151
blemish
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| v.损害；玷污；瑕疵，缺点 | |
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152
severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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