'I . . . I . . .'
The mother gave Nikolka a look that was black and, so it seemed to him, full of hatred, and suddenly she cried out in a voice so piercing that it resounded from the glass doorway behind Nikolka:
'Felix has been killed!'
She clenched her fists, shook them in front of Nikolka's face and shouted:
'He's been killed . . .
Do you hear, Irina?
Felix has been killed!'
Nikolka's eyes clouded with fear and he thought despairingly:
'My God . . . and I haven't even said a word!'
Instantly the fat woman slammed the door behind Nikolka.
Then she rushed to the thin, older woman, took her by the shoulders and whispered hurriedly:
'Maria Frantsevna my dear, calm yourself . . .' She leaned towards Nikolka and asked: 'Perhaps he isn't dead after all?
Oh, lord . . .
You tell us - is he ... ?'
Nikolka could say nothing but look helplessly ahead of him towards the edge of the armchair.
'Hush, Maria Frantsevna, hush my dear . . .
For heaven's sake -They'll hear next door . . . it's the will of God . . .' stammered the fat woman.
Nai-Turs' mother collapsed backwards, screaming:
'Four years!
Four years I've been waiting for him . . . waiting . . .' The younger woman rushed past Nikolka towards her mother and caught her.
Nikolka should have helped them, but quite unexpectedly he burst into violent, uncontrollable sobbing and could not stop.
The blinds were drawn on all the windows, the drawing-room was in semi-darkness and complete silence; there was a nauseating smell of medicine.
Finally the young woman broke the silence: she was Nai-Turs' sister.
She turned away from the window and walked over to Nikolka, who rose from his chair still clutching the cap which he could not bring himself to relinquish in this appalling situation.
The sister mechanically patted her black curls, grimaced and asked:
'How did he die?'
'He died,' Nikolka replied in his very best voice, 'he died, you know, like a hero ...
A real hero .. .
He saw to it that all the cadets were in safety and then, at the very last moment, he himself,' -Nikolka wept as he told the story - 'he himself gave them covering fire.
I was nearly killed with him.
We were caught by machine-gun fire' - Nikolka wept and talked at the same time - 'we . . . there were only us two left, and he tried to make me run for it and swore at me and fired the machine-gun . . .
There was cavalry coming at us from every direction, because we had been caught in a trap.
Literally from every direction.'
'And then he was wounded?'
'No,' Nikolka answered firmly and began wiping his eyes, nose and mouth with a dirty handkerchief, 'no, he was killed.
I felt him myself.
He was hit in the head and in the chest.'
It had grown still darker. There was not a sound from the next room; Maria Frantsevna was silent. In the drawing-room three people stood whispering in a tight group: Nai's sister Irina; the fat woman with the pince-nez, Lydia Pavlovna, who Nikolka discovered was the owner of the apartment; and Nikolka himself.
'I haven't any money on me', whispered Nikolka. 'If necessary I can run and get some right away, then we can go.'
'I'll give you the money now,' said Lydia Pavlovna, 'the money's not important. The important thing is that you succeed.
Irina, don't say a word to her about where and how ...
I really don't know quite what to do . . .'
'I'll go with him,' Irina whispered, 'and we'll manage it somehow.
You said he was in the barracks and that we have to get permission to see his body.'
'Well, that can be arranged . . .'
The fat woman then tiptoed into the next-door room, and her voice could be heard whispering persuasively:
'Now lie still, Maria Frantsevna, for God's sake . . .
They're going now and they'll find out everything.
The cadet says that he's lying in the barracks.'
'On planks?' asked the penetrating and, to Nikolka, hate-filled voice.