Conscious of their eyes on him, he set his handsome, puffy face in lines still grimmer.
"The comrade on duty has just informed me that you have come on urgent business, Comrades," he said, with an air of chill importance.
"I'm surprised that neither the regimental commander, nor you yourself, Comrade Commissar, saw fit to use the direct line...."
"I tried to get you on the direct line three times," said Sokolovsky, leaping to his feet and extracting from his pocket the telegraphic tape, which he held out to the Chief of Staff.
"How can we sit back and wait while our comrades are perishing.... We have had no order from army headquarters. We are being implored for help.
The 'Proletarian Freedom' Regiment is perishing, and it has two thousand refugees in its rear...."
The Chief of Staff glanced carelessly at the tape and flung it down on the desk, where it curled round the massive inkpot.
"We are well aware, Comrades, that fighting is going on near the position of the
'Proletarian Freedom' Regiment.... I admire your zeal, your revolutionary ardour." (He seemed to be picking his words.) "But I would request you, in future, not to raise a panic.... Especially since the operations of the enemy are of a casual nature.... In a word, all steps have been taken, and you can return to your duties without the least anxiety."
He raised his head.
His glance was stern and calm.
Telegin, who understood that no more would be said, rose.
Sokolovsky remained seated, as if stunned.
"I can't go back to the regiment with such an answer," he rapped out.
"The soldiers will hold a meeting this very day, this very day the regiment will rush heroically to the aid of the 'Proletarians'.... I give you warning, Comrade, that I shall speak in favour of an attack at the meeting...."
The Chief of Staff grew crimson. His huge bare forehead glistened.
Pushing back his chair noisily, he rose, his army trousers drooping baggily, and thrust his hands into his belt.
"You will answer for your actions to the Revolutionary Tribunal of the army, Comrade!
Remember, this is not 1917!"
"Don't try to intimidate me, Comrade!"
"Silence!"
Again the door was flung open, this time to admit a tall, remarkably slender man in a blue Circassian tunic of very fine cloth.
He had dark hair falling over his forehead, and a drooping moustache, and his morose, handsome face was tinged with the delicate flush which so often goes with hard drinking and sadistic tendencies.
He had moist, red lips, and the pupils of his black eyes were dilated.
Waving the left sleeve of his tunic he went right up to Sokolovsky and Telegin, looking into their eyes with a savage glance.
Then he turned towards the Chief of Staff, his nostrils quivering with rage.
"Again at your old-regime tricks!
What d'you mean by shouting 'Silence!' at people?
If they are at fault they will be shot.... But I won't have any of your general's impertinence...."
The Chief of Staff received the rebuke in silence, with a hanging head.
He could not answer back—for it was Commander in Chief Sorokin himself.
"Sit down, Comrades, I'm listening," said Sorokin calmly, perching himself on the window sill.
Once again Sokolovsky embarked upon his explanation of the purpose of their journey: to get permission for the Varnav Regiment to go immediately to the help of the "Proletarians," who were posted near them. Besides being a revolutionary duty, this step was dictated by common sense: if the "Proletarians" were put out of action, the Varnav Regiment would be cut off from its base.
Sorokin only remained on the windowsill a moment.
He started striding from one of the doors to the other, barking out brief questions.
Every time he made a sharp turn, his luxuriant locks flew in all directions.
The soldiers loved him for his ardour and courage.
He knew how to address meetings.
In those days such qualities were often accepted as a substitute for military science.
He had been a Cossack officer, with the rank of captain, and had fought in Transcaucasia under Yudenich.
After the October Revolution he went back to the Kuban and organized a guerrilla battalion in his native village of Petropavlovskaya, which subsequently fought successfully at the siege of Ekaterinodar.
His star rose rapidly.
Glory turned his head.
His animal spirits bubbled, effervesced, he had enough for fighting and for carousing.
And the Chief of Staff saw to it that he was surrounded by pretty women and all the concomitants of luxury and debauch.
"What reply did you get in my staff?" he asked when Sokolovsky, mopping his brow convulsively with a soiled and crumpled handkerchief, stopped talking.
The Chief of Staff hastened to give an answer to this question.
"I replied that all measures had been taken by us for the relief of the
'Proletarian Freedom' Regiment.
I said, moreover, that Varnav headquarters were interfering with the orders of army headquarters, which is absolutely inadmissible, and, moreover, that panic was being needlessly created."