Two Captains (24 page)

"I don't think you have the right to risk your whole future through petty vanity."

"It isn't petty vanity, it's a point of honour!" I said warmly. "Would you have me hush up this Romashka affair just because it affects Nikolai Antonich, who has the power to decide whether I'm to be expelled or not?

Would you have me act so meanly? Never! I know why he'll insist on having me expelled. He wants to get rid of me, wants me to go away somewhere so's not to meet Katya. Not likely! I'll tell them everything at the Teachers'

Council. I'll tell them that Romashka is a cad and only a cad would apologise to him." Korablev became thoughtful.

"Wait a minute," he said. "You say Romashov eavesdrops on the boys and then reports to Nikolai Antonich what they say about him. But how can you prove it?" "I have a witness-Valya." "Valya whom?" "Zhukov."

"H'm that's interesting," Korablev said. "Why has Valya kept quiet about this? He's your chum, isn't he?"

"Romashka has some influence over him. He looks at him at night, and Valya can't stand it. Besides, he made Valya give his word of honour he would not babble about what Romashka had told him. Valya's a fool, of course, to have given his word of honour, but once he's given it he must keep his mouth shut. Isn't that so?"

Korablev stood up. He paced the room, took out a comb and tidied his moustache, then his eyebrows, and then his moustache again. He was thinking.

My heart hammered, but I did not say another word. I let him think. I even breathed more quietly so's not to distract him.

"Very well, Sanya. You're not schooled in cunning, anyway," Korablev said at last. "Put the thing to the Teachers' Council exactly the way you have told me. But on one condition-"

"What's that, Ivan Pavlovich?"

"That you keep cool. You just said, for instance, that Nikolai Antonich wants to get you expelled because of Katya. You shouldn't say that at the Council meeting."

"Ivan Pavlovich, what do you take me for? Don't I understand?"

"You understand, all right, but you get too excited. I tell you what, Sanya, let's make this arrangement. I'll keep my hand on the table like this, palm downwards, and you'll keep your eye on it as you speak. If I start drumming the table, that means you're getting excited. If I don't, you aren't."

"All right, Ivan Pavlovich. Thank you. When's the meeting?"

"Today at three. But they'll call you in a bit later."

He asked me to send Valya to him and we parted.

It was an ordinary meeting in our small teachers' room, at' a table covered with a blue cloth with ragged tassels. But it seemed to me that they were all looking at me with a sort of enigmatic, meaningful expression.

Korablev gave a laugh when I came in, and I thought:

"That's on purpose."

"Well, Grigoriev," Nikolai Antonich began in a mild tone, "you know, of course, why we have called you to this meeting. You have distressed us, and not only us, but, I may say, the whole school. Distress us by your wanton behaviour, which is unworthy of the human society in which we live, and to whose development we must contribute to the best of our ability and powers."

I said:

"Please put your questions."

"Allow me, please, Nikolai Antonich," Korablev put in quickly.

"Grigoriev, tell us please where you spent the nine days since you ran away from school?"

"I did not run away, I went to Ensk," I said calmly. "My sister lives there and I haven't seen her for eight years. Judge Skovorodni-kov can confirm this-I stayed with him: 13, Gogolevskaya Street, formerly the Marcouse Mansion."

If I had said frankly that I had spent those nine days with Katya Tatarinova, who had been sent away to keep us from meeting each other at least during the holidays, my words could not have had a more disconcerting effect on Nikolai Antonich. He paled, blinked and cocked his head sharply to one side.

"Why didn't you tell anybody you were going away?" Korablev asked.

I admitted that I was guilty of a breach of discipline and promised that it would never happen again.

"Excellent, Grigoriev," said Nikolai Antonich. "Now that is an excellent answer. It remains for us to hope that you will have just as satisfactory explanations for your other actions."

He looked at me affectionately. His composure was marvellous! "Now tell us what happened between you and Mr Likho." To this day I can't understand why, in telling the story of my relations with Likho, I did not mention a word about "idealism". It may have been because I considered that since Likho had withdrawn his accusation there was nothing to talk about. This was a bad mistake. Besides, I should not have mentioned that I wrote my essays without referring to the "critics". It did not go down well. Korablev frowned and laid his hand on the table.

"So you don't like the critics?" Nikolai Antonich said drily. "What did you say to Mr Likho? Please repeat it word for word."

Repeat to the Teachers' Council what I had said to Likho? Impossible!

If Likho had not been such a fathead he would have intervened at this point to have this question withdrawn. But he just stared at me with an air of triumph. "Well," Nikoali Antonich prompted.

"Nikolai Antonich, allow me," Korablev interposed. "We know what he said to Mr Likho. We'd like to know what explanation he gives to his conduct."

"I beg your pardon!" said Likho. "I insist that he repeat what he said!

I never heard such things even from the defectives at the Dostoyevsky School."

I was silent. Had I been able to read thoughts at a distance, I would have read in Korablev's eyes: "Sanya, tell them he accused you of

'idealism'."

"Well!" Nikolai Antonich repeated indulgently. "I don't remember," I muttered.

It was silly, because everybody saw at once that I was lying. Likho snorted.

"Today he insults me for giving him a bad mark, tomorrow he'll cut my throat," he said. "What hooliganism!"

I felt like giving him a punch on the nose, like I had very nearly done that time on the stairs, but I didn't, of course. I clenched my teeth and stared at Korablev's hand. He was drumming lightly on the table.

"It was a bad essay, I admit," I said, trying to keep cool and thinking with hatred how to extricate myself from this stupid position. "It may not have earned an 'extremely feeble' mark, because there isn't such a mark, but it wasn't up to the mark, I admit. Anyway, if the Council decides that I ought to apologise, then I'll apologise."

Obviously, this was another silly thing to say. All started talking together, saying God knows what, and Korablev eyed me with unconcealed annoyance.

"Yes, Grigoriev," Nikolai Antonich said with a deprecating smile. "So you are ready to apologise to Mr Likho only if the Council takes a decision to that effect. In other words, you don't feel guilty. Ah, well! We'll make a note of that and pass to the next question."

"Risk your whole future through petty vanity," the words came back to me.

"I apologise," I said awkwardly, turning to Likho. But Nikolai Antonich was speaking again, and Likho made out as if he had not heard me.

"Now this vicious attack on Romashov. You kicked him in the face, Grigoriev, inflicting serious injuries, which have noticeably affected the health of your comrade Romashov. How do you explain this conduct, the like of which has never been heard of within the walls of our school?"

I think I hated him more than ever at that moment for the smooth meandering way he spoke. But Korablev's fingers rose warningly above the table and I kept my temper.

"For one thing, I don't consider Romashov a comrade of mine. Secondly, I hit him only once. Thirdly, he doesn't show any sign of impaired health."

This roused a storm of indignation, but Korablev nodded his head ever so slightly.

"My conduct can be explained in this way," I proceeded more calmly. "I consider Romashov a cad and can prove it at any time. Instead of a beating, we should try him by a court of honour and have the whole school attend the trial."

Nikolai Antonich wanted to stop me, but I plunged on.

"I affirm that Romashov is influencing the weaker boys psychologically, trying to get a hold on them. If you want an example I can give it to you-Valya Zhukov. Romashov takes advantage of the fact that Valya is nervous and scares the life out of him. What does he do? First he gets him to give his word of honour to keep mum, then tells him all his low-down secrets. I was simply amazed when I heard about it. A Komsomol boy who gives his word not to tell anybody anything-about what? About what he hasn't heard yet himself! What do you call that? And that's not all!"

Korablev had been drumming the table for some time, but I was no longer worrying whether I was excited or not. I don't think I was a bit excited.

"And that's not all! Now I ask you," I said loudly, turning to Nikolai Antonich, "could such a person as Romashov exist in our school if he did not have protectors? He could not. And he does have them! At least, I know one of them-Nikolai Antonich!"

Spoken like a man! I never thought I'd had it in me to tell him this straight to his face! The room was silent, the whole Council waiting to see what would happen. Nikolai Antonich gave a laugh and paled. He always did go a bit pale when he laughed.

"Can this be proved? Easy as anything. Nikolai Antonich has always been interested in what they say about him in the school. I don't know why he should be. The fact remains that he hired Romashov for this purpose. I say

'hired' because Romashov never does anything for nothing. He hired him, and Romashov started eavesdropping on the boys and reporting to Nikolai Antonich what they said about him, and afterwards he gets Zhukov to give him his word of honour not to blab and tells him all about his talebearing. You may ask me-why did you keep silent if you knew about this? I got to know this just before I went away, and Zhukov promised me to write to the Komsomol Group about it, but he's only done that today."

I stopped speaking. Korablev removed his hand from the table and turned to Nikolai Antonich with a look of interest. He was the only one, by the way, who bore himself with ease. The other teachers looked embarrassed.

"Have you finished your explanations, Grigoriev?" said Nikolai Antonich in a level voice, as though nothing had happened.

"Yes."

"Are there any questions?"

"Nikolai Antonich," said Korablev in a courteous tone, "I believe we can dismiss Grigoriev. Don't you think we ought to invite Zhukov or Romashov in now?"

Nikolai Antonich undid the top button of his waistcoat and placed his hand over his heart. He had gone paler still and a strand of hair combed back over his head suddenly came loose and tumbled over his forehead. He fell back in his chair and closed his eyes. Everyone rushed over to him. So ended the meeting.

My speech at the Teachers' Council was the talk of the school, and I found myself a very busy man. To say that I felt a hero would be an exaggeration. Nevertheless, the girls from other classes came to look at me and commented audibly on my appearance. For the first time in my life my short stature was overlooked.

I was therefore disagreeably surprised when, at the height of my glory, the Komsomol Group passed on me a severe reprimand and warning. The Teachers' Council was not meeting owing to Nikolai Antonich's illness, but Korablev said that they might decide to transfer me to another school.

This did not make pleasant hearing, and what's more, it was unfair. I had nothing to say against the Group's decision. But to have me transferred to another school! For what? For having shown up Romashka for the cad he was? For having shown up Nikolai Antonich, who was his protector? I was in such a cheerless mood that, sitting in the library, I heard a loud whisper in the doorway: "Which one?" • I looked up to see a tall young fellow with a mop of red hair eyeing me questioningly from the doorway. Red-haired people always cultivate shocks of hair, but this chap's had a wild sort of look, like those you see on primitive man in your geography textbook. I leapt to my feet and rushed towards him, overthrowing a chair.

"Pyotr!"

We pumped each other's hands, then, on second thoughts, embraced.

He was very much like his photograph, which Sanya had shown me, except that on the photograph his hair was smoothed down. Was I glad! I did not feel the slightest embarrassment-it was like meeting my own brother.

"Pyotr! This is a surprise! Gee, I'm glad to see you!"

He laughed.

"I thought you were living in Turkestan. Didn't you make it?"

"What about you?"

"I did," said Pyotr. "But I didn't like it. Much too hot out there, you feel thirsty all the time. I was run in, got fed up and came back. You'd have kicked the bucket there."

We put on our coats and started down the stairs, talking away all the time. And here a very strange encounter took place.

On the landing outside the geography room stood a woman in a coat with a squirrel collar. She was standing by the banisters looking down the well of the staircase-for a moment I thought she was going to throw herself down the well, because she swayed by the banisters with her eyes closed. We must have frightened her, and she moved uncertainly towards the door. It was Maria Vasilievna. I recognised her at once, though she was in an unfamiliar guise. Perhaps, if I had been alone, she would have spoken to me. But I was with Pyotr, so she just nodded to me in response to my awkward bow and turned away.

She had grown thinner since I last saw her and her face was mask-like and sombre. With this thought in my mind I went out into the street, and Pyotr and I went for a walk together-just the two of us again, again in winter, again in Moscow, after a long separation.