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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9371fba --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62460 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62460) diff --git a/old/62460-8.txt b/old/62460-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d54fdbb..0000000 --- a/old/62460-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3257 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The red laugh: fragments of a discovered -manuscript, by Leonid Andreyev - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The red laugh: fragments of a discovered manuscript - -Author: Leonid Andreyev - -Translator: Alexandra Linden - -Release Date: June 23, 2020 [EBook #62460] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED LAUGH *** - - - - -Produced by Carlos Colón, the University of California -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - - Transcriber's Notes: - - Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and bold text by - =equal signs=. - - Small uppercase have been replaced with regular uppercase. - - Blank pages have been eliminated. - - Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the - original. - - - - - A LIST OF BOOKS - ON - RUSSIA AND SIBERIA - -Published by ... - - T. FISHER UNWIN - - 11 Paternoster Buildings, London, E.C. - - - HISTORY, DESCRIPTION, ETC. - -=Travels of a Naturalist in Northern Europe.= By J. A. HARVIE-BROWN, -F.R.S.E., F.Z.S., Author of "Fauna of the Moray Basin," "A Vertebrate -Fauna of Orkney," etc., etc. With 4 Maps and many Illustrations. 2 -vols. Royal 8vo, cloth. £3, 3s. net. - -Limited Edition. Uniform with "Fauna of the Moray Basin." - - -=Siberia: A Record of Travel, Exploration, and Climbing.= By SAMUEL -TURNER. With 100 Illustrations and 2 Maps. Demy 8vo, cloth. 21s. net. - - -=Russia Under the Great Shadow.= By LUIGI VILLARI, Author of "Giovanni -Segantini," "Italian Life in Town and Country," etc. With 85 -Illustrations. Second Impression. Demy 8vo, cloth. 10s. 6d. net. - - -=Tourgueneff and his French Circle.= Edited by H. HALPÉRINE-KAMINSKY. -Translated by ETHEL M. ARNOLD. Cr. 8vo, cloth. 7s. 6d. - - -=The Peoples and Politics of the Far East.= Travels and Studies in the -British, French, Spanish, and Portuguese Colonies, Siberia, China, -Japan, Korea, Siam, and Malaya. By HENRY NORMAN, B.A., M.P. With many -Illustrations. Sixth Impression. Small demy 8vo, cloth. 7s. 6d. - - -=Poland.= By W. R. MORFILL, M.A., Professor of Russian and Slavonic -Languages in the University of Oxford. Third Impression. With 50 -Illustrations and Maps. (Story of the Nations. Vol. 33.) Large cr. 8vo, -cloth. 5s. - - -=Russia.= By W. R. MORFILL, M.A. Fourth Edition. With 60 Illustrations -and Maps. (Story of the Nations. Vol. 23.) Large cr. 8vo, cloth. 5s. - -War Edition. Brought up to date and with Supplementary Chapters on the -Present Situation, and Large War Map. Cloth. 5s. - - -=The Memoirs and Travels of Count de Benyowsky= in Siberia, -Kamtschatka, Japan, the Liukiu Islands, and Formosa. Edited by Captain -S. P. OLIVER, R.A. Illustrated. Cr. 8vo, cloth. 3s. 6d. - - -=The Grand Duchy of Finland.= By the author of "A Visit to the -Russians." Cr. 8vo, cloth, with Map, 2s. 6d. net. - - - FICTION - -=Three Dukes.= A Novel of Russian Life. By G. YSTRIDDE. (Unwin's Red -Cloth Library.) Cr. 8vo, cloth. 6s. - - -=The Watcher on the Tower.= A Story of Napoleon's Invasion of Russia. -By A. G. HALES. (Unwin's Red Cloth Library.) Cr. 8vo, cloth. 6s. - - -=Finnish Legends.= Adapted by R. EIVIND. Illustrated from the Finnish -text. (Children's Library). Fcap. 8vo, cloth 2s. 6d. - - - IN THE PSEUDONYM LIBRARY - Cloth, 2s.; Paper, 1s. 6d. - -=Mademoiselle Ixe.= By LANOE FALCONER. - - -=Makar's Dream, and other Russian Stories.= By V. KOROLENKO. - - -=A Saghalien Convict.= By V. KOROLENKO. - - -=Squire Hellman.= By JUHANI AHO. - - -=A Russian Priest.= By J. POTAPENKO. - - -=The General's Daughter.= By J. POTAPENKO. - - -=A Father of Six.= By J. POTAPENKO. - - - BY MAXIM GORKY - Crown 8vo, cloth, 1s. net. - -=Foma Gordyeeff.= Unabridged. - - -=The Outcasts, and Other Stories.= - - -=Three of Them.= - - * * * * * - -=The Red Laugh.= By LEONIDAS ANDREIEF. Paper cover, 1s. net. - - -=The China Cup, and Other Stories.= By FELIX VOLKHOVSKY. Illustrated -by Malischeff. (Children's Library). Illustrated. Fcap. 8vo, decorated -binding, 1s. - - - LONDON: T. FISHER UNWIN. - - - - - NOVELS BY MAXIM GORKY - - _Bound in cloth, 1s. net. each_ - - - THREE OF THEM (22nd Thousand) - THE OUTCASTS (10th Thousand) - THE MAN WHO WAS AFRAID (15th Thousand) - - * * * * * - - THREE DUKES. A Novel of the Russian Upper Classes of To-Day. By G. - YSTRIDDE. Second Edition, 6s. - - - T. FISHER UNWIN, LONDON - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE RED LAUGH - - _FRAGMENTS OF A DISCOVERED MANUSCRIPT_ - - - BY - - LEONIDAS ANDREIEF - - - _Translated from the Russian by_ ALEXANDRA LINDEN - - - LONDON - T. FISHER UNWIN - PATERNOSTER SQUARE - - 1905 - - -_Protected under the Berne Convention in accordance with Article III. -as modified by the Paris additional Act of May 4, 1896._ - - - - -PREFACE - - -Leonidas Andreief, the author of _The Red Laugh_ and of some volumes -of short stories, was born at Orel in 1871. He studied first at the -college of his own town, then at St Petersburg University. As a -student at St Petersburg, he made a miserable livelihood by giving -infrequent lessons at wretched rates, and his first literary efforts -belong to this period. His first short story, the subject of which -was, in fact, autobiographical--the sorry life of the poor student, -always half starving--was derisively rejected. But he gained entry -into an important St Petersburg review with another and characteristic -short story, _Silence_, and with it won the attention of the Russian -literary world. Now his popularity in Russia almost transcends that -of Gorky. Russian critics have said of Andreief, as Victor Hugo said -of the author of the _Fleurs du Mal_, that he has "invented a new -thrill," and Andreief seems, indeed, to be most at home in a region of -horror, though it is very much psychologised horror, a horror full of -fine shades. _The Red Laugh_ is a literary outcome of the late war in -Manchuria; it sets forth the anachronism of war as that anachronism is -felt by a writer of genius. - - O. - - - - -THE RED LAUGH - - - - -PART I - - -FRAGMENT I - -..... Horror and madness. - -I felt it for the first time as we were marching along the -road--marching incessantly for ten hours without stopping, never -diminishing our step, never waiting to pick up those that had fallen, -but leaving them to the enemy, that was moving behind us in a compact -mass only three or four hours later effacing the marks of our feet by -their own. - -It was very sultry. I do not know how many degrees there were--120°, -140°, or more--I only know that the heat was incessant, hopelessly -even and profound. The sun was so enormous, so fiery and terrible, -that it seemed as if the earth had drawn nearer to it and would soon -be burnt up altogether in its merciless rays. Our eyes had ceased to -look. The small shrunk pupil, as small as a poppyseed, sought in -vain for darkness under the closed eyelid; the sun pierced the thin -covering and penetrated into the tortured brain in a blood-red glow. -But, nevertheless, it was better so: with closed eyelids, and for a -long time, perhaps for several hours, I walked along with my eyes shut, -hearing the multitude moving around me: the heavy, uneven tread of -many feet, men's and horses, the grinding of iron wheels, crushing the -small stones, somebody's deep strained breathing and the dry smacking -of parched lips. But I heard no word. All were silent, as if an army -of dumb people was moving, and when anyone fell down, he fell in -silence; others stumbled against his body, fell down and rose mutely, -and, without turning their heads, marched on, as though these dumb men -were also blind and deaf. I stumbled and fell several times and then -involuntarily opened my eyes, and all that I saw seemed a wild fiction, -the terrible raving of a mad world. The air vibrated at a white-hot -temperature, the stones seemed to be trembling silently, ready to flow, -and in the distance, at a curve of the road, the files of men, guns -and horses seemed detached from the earth, and trembled like a mass of -jelly in their onward progress, and it seemed to me that they were not -living people that I saw before me, but an army of incorporate shadows. - -The enormous, near, terrible sun lit up thousands of tiny blinding suns -on every gun-barrel and metal plate, and these suns, as fiery-white and -sharp as the white-hot points of the bayonets, crept into your eyes -from every side. And the consuming, burning heat penetrated into your -body--into your very bones and brain--and at times it seemed to me that -it was not a head that swayed upon my shoulders, but a strange and -extraordinary globe, heavy and light, belonging to somebody else, and -horrible. - -And then--then I suddenly remembered my home: a corner of my room, a -scrap of light-blue wall-paper, and a dusty untouched water-bottle -on my table--on my table, which has one leg shorter than the others, -and had a small piece of paper folded under it. While in the next -room--and I cannot see them--are my wife and little son. If I had had -the power to cry out, I would have done so--so wonderful was this -simple and peaceful picture--the scrap of light-blue wall-paper and -dusty untouched water-bottle. I know that I stood still and lifted up -my arms, but somebody gave me a push from behind, and I quickly moved -on, thrusting the crowd aside, and hastening whither I knew not, but -feeling now neither heat nor fatigue. And I marched on thus for a long -time through the endless mute files, past red sunburnt necks, almost -touching the helplessly lowered hot bayonets, when suddenly the thought -of what I was doing, whither I was hastening, stopped me. I turned -aside in the same hasty way, forced my way to the open, clambered -across a gulley and sat down on a stone in a preoccupied manner, as if -that rough hot stone was the aim of all my strivings. - -And then I felt it for the first time. I clearly perceived that all -these people, marching silently on in the glaring sun, torpid from -fatigue and heat, swaying and falling--that they were all mad. They -did not know whither they were going, they did not know what that sun -was for, they did not know anything. It was not heads that they had -on their shoulders, but strange and terrible globes. There--I saw a -man in the same plight as I, pushing his way hurriedly through the -rows and falling down; there--another, and a third. Suddenly a horse's -head appeared above the throng with bloodshot and senseless eyes and a -wide-open grinning mouth, that only hinted at a terrible unearthly cry; -this head appeared, fell down, and for an instant the crowd stopped, -growing denser in that spot; I could hear hoarse, hollow voices, then a -shot, and again the silent endless march continued. - -An hour passed as I sat on that stone, but the multitude still moved -on past me, and the air and earth and the distant phantom-like ranks -trembled as before. And again the burning heat pierced my body and I -forgot what for an instant I had pictured to myself; and the multitudes -moved on past me, but I did not know who they were. An hour ago I was -alone on the stone, but now I was surrounded by a group of grey people: -some lying motionless, perhaps dead; others were sitting up and staring -vacantly at those passing by. Some had guns and resembled soldiers; -others were stripped almost naked, and the skin on their bodies was so -livid, that one did not care to look at it. Not far from me someone was -lying with his bared back upturned. - -One could see by the unconcerned manner in which he had buried his face -in the sharp burning sand, by the whiteness of the palm of his upturned -hand, that he was dead, but his back was as red as if he were alive, -and only a slight yellowish tinge, like one sees on smoked meat, spoke -of death. I wanted to move away from him, but I had not the strength, -and, tottering from weakness, I continued looking at the endless -phantom-like swaying files of men. By the condition of my head I knew -that I should soon have a sunstroke too, but I awaited it calmly, as in -a dream, where death seems only a stage on the path of wonderful and -confused visions. - -And I saw a soldier part from the crowd and direct his steps in a -decided manner towards us. For an instant I lost sight of him in a -ditch, but when he reappeared and moved on towards us, his gait was -unsteady, and in his endeavours to control his restlessly tossing body, -one felt he was using his last strength. He was coming so straight upon -me that I grew frightened and, breaking through the heavy torpor that -enveloped my brain, I asked: "What do you want?" - -He stopped short, as if it was only a word that he was waiting for, and -stood before me, enormous, bearded, in a torn shirt. He had no gun, his -trousers hung only by one button, and through a slit in them one could -see his white body. He flung his arms and legs about and he was visibly -trying to control them, but could not: the instant he brought his arms -together, they fell apart again. - -"What is the matter? You had better sit down," I said. - -But he continued standing, vainly trying to gather himself together, -and stared at me in silence. Involuntarily I got up from the stone -and, tottering, looked into his eyes--and saw an abyss of horror and -insanity in them. Everybody's pupils were shrunk--but his had dilated -and covered his whole eye: what a sea of fire he must have seen through -those enormous black windows! Maybe I had only imagined it, maybe in -his look there was only death,--but no, I was not mistaken: in those -black, bottomless pupils, surrounded by a narrow orange-coloured rim, -like a bird's eye, there was more than death, more than the horror of -death. "Go away!" I cried, falling back. "Go away!" And as if he was -only waiting for a word, enormous, disorderly and mute as before, he -suddenly fell down upon me, knocking me over. With a shudder I freed my -legs from under him, jumped up and longed to run--somewhere away from -men into the sunlit, unpeopled and quivering distance, when suddenly, -on the left-hand side, a cannon boomed forth from a hill-top, and -directly after it two others, like an echo. And somewhere above our -heads a shell flew past with a gladsome, many-voiced scr-e-e-ch and -howl. - -We were outflanked. - -The murderous heat, fear and fatigue disappeared instantly. My thoughts -cleared, my mind grew clear and sharp, and, when I ran up, out of -breath, to the files of men drawing up, I saw serene, almost joyous -faces, heard hoarse, but loud voices, orders, jokes. The sun seemed to -have drawn itself up higher so as not to be in the way, and had grown -dim and still--and again a shell, like a witch, cut the air with a -gladsome scr-e-e-ch. - -I came up.... - - -FRAGMENT II - -... Nearly all the horses and men. The same in the eighth battery. In -our twelfth battery, towards the end of the third day, there remained -only three guns--all the others being disabled--six men and one -officer, myself. We had neither slept nor eaten for twenty hours; for -three days and nights a Satanic roar and howl enveloped us in a cloud -of insanity, isolated us from the earth, the sky and ourselves--and we, -the living, wandered about like lunatics. The dead--they lay still, -while we moved about doing our duty, talking and laughing, and we -were--like lunatics. All our movements were quick and certain, our -orders clear, the execution of them precise, but if you had suddenly -asked any one of us who we were, undoubtedly we should not have been -able to find an answer in our troubled brain. As in a dream all faces -seemed familiar, and all that was going on seemed quite familiar and -natural--as if it had happened before; but when I looked closely at any -face or gun, or began listening to the din, I was struck by the novelty -and endless mystery of everything. Night approached imperceptibly, and -before we had time to notice it and wonder where it had come from, the -sun was again burning above our heads. And only from those who came -to our battery we learnt that it was the third day of the battle that -was dawning, and instantly forgot it again: to us it appeared as one -endless day without any beginning, sometimes dark, sometimes bright, -but always incomprehensible and blind. And nobody was afraid of death, -for nobody understood what death was. - -On the third or fourth night--I do not remember which--I lay down for -a minute behind the breastwork, and, as soon as I shut my eyes, the -same familiar and extraordinary picture stood before them: the scrap -of light-blue wall-paper and the dusty untouched water-bottle on my -table. While in the next room--and I could not see them--were my wife -and little son. But this time a lamp with a green shade was burning on -the table, so it must have been evening or night. The picture stood -motionless, and I contemplated it very calmly and attentively for a -long time, letting my eyes rest on the light reflected in the crystal -of the water-bottle, and on the wall-paper, and wondered why my son -was not asleep: for it was night and time for him to go to bed. Then -I again began examining the wall-paper: every spiral, silvery flower, -square and line--and never imagined that I knew my room so well. Now -and then I opened my eyes and saw the black sky with beautiful fiery -stripes upon it, then shut them again and saw once more the wall-paper, -the bright water-bottle, and wondered why my son was not asleep, for -it was night and time for him to go to bed. Once a shell burst not far -from me, making my legs give a jerk, and somebody cried out loudly, -louder than the bursting of the shell, and I said to myself: "Somebody -is killed," but I did not get up and did not tear my eyes away from the -light-blue wall-paper and the water-bottle. - -Afterwards I got up, moved about, gave orders, looked at the men's -faces, trained the guns, and kept on wondering why my son was not -asleep. Once I asked the sergeant, and he explained it to me at length -with great detail, and we kept nodding our heads. And he laughed, and -his left eyebrow kept twitching, while his eye winked cunningly at -somebody behind us. Behind us were somebody's feet--and nothing more. - -By this time it was quite light, when suddenly there fell a drop of -rain. Rain--just the same as at home, the most ordinary little drops of -rain. But it was so sudden and out of place, and we were so afraid of -getting wet, that we left our guns, stopped firing, and tried to find -shelter anywhere we could. - -The sergeant with whom I had only just been speaking got under the -gun-carriage and dozed off, although he might have been crushed any -minute; the stout artilleryman, for some reason or other, began -undressing a corpse, while I began running about the battery in -search of something--a cloak or an umbrella. And the same instant -over the whole enormous area, where the rain-cloud had burst, a -wonderful stillness fell. A belated shrapnel-shot shrieked and burst, -and everything grew still--so still that one could hear the stout -artilleryman panting and the drops of rain splashing upon the stones -and guns. And this soft and continuous sound, that reminded one of -autumn--the smell of the moist earth and the stillness--seemed to -tear the bloody, savage nightmare asunder for an instant; and when -I glanced at the wet, glistening gun it unexpectedly reminded me of -something dear and peaceful--my childhood, or perhaps my first love. -But in the distance a gun boomed forth particularly loud, and the spell -of the momentary lull disappeared; the men began coming out of their -hiding-places as suddenly as they had hid themselves; a gun roared, -then another, and once again the weary brain was enveloped by bloody, -indissoluble gloom. And nobody noticed when the rain stopped. I only -remember seeing the water rolling off the fat, sunken yellow face of -the killed artilleryman; so I supposed it rained for rather a long -time.... - - * * * * * - -... Before me stood a young volunteer, holding his hand to his cap -and reporting to me that the general wanted us to retain our position -for only two hours more, when we should be relieved. I was wondering -why my son was not in bed, and answered that I could hold on as much -as he wished. But suddenly I became interested in the young man's -face, probably because of its unusual and striking pallor. I never saw -anything whiter than that face: even the dead have more colour than -that young, beardless face had. I suppose he became terrified on his -way to us, and could not recover himself; and in holding his hand to -his cap he was only making an effort to drive away his mad fear by a -simple and habitual gesture. - -"Are you afraid?" I asked, touching his elbow. But his elbow seemed as -if made of wood, and he only smiled and remained silent. Better to say, -his lips alone were twitching into a smile, while his eyes were full of -youth and terror only--nothing more. - -"Are you afraid?" I repeated kindly. His lips twitched, trying to frame -a word, and the same instant there happened something incomprehensible, -monstrous and supernatural. I felt a draught of warm air upon my right -cheek that made me sway--that is all--while before my eyes, in place of -the white face, there was something short, blunt and red, and out of it -the blood was gushing as out of an uncorked bottle, such as is drawn on -badly executed signboards. And that short, red and flowing "something" -still seemed to be smiling a sort of smile, a toothless laugh--a red -laugh. - -I recognised it--that red laugh. I had been searching for it, and I had -found it--that red laugh. Now I understood what there was in all those -mutilated, torn, strange bodies. It was a red laugh. It was in the -sky, it was in the sun, and soon it was going to overspread the whole -earth--that red laugh! - -While they, with precision and calmness, like lunatics.... - - -FRAGMENT III - -They say there are a great number of madmen in our army as well as in -the enemy's. Four lunatic wards have been opened. When I was on the -staff our adjutant showed me.... - - -FRAGMENT IV - -... Coiled round like snakes. He saw the wire, chopped through at -one end, cut the air and coil itself round three soldiers. The barbs -tore their uniforms and stuck into their bodies, and, shrieking, the -soldiers spun round in frenzy, two of them dragging the third, who was -already dead, after them. Then only one remained alive, and he tried to -push the two that were dead away from him; but they trailed after him, -whirling and rolling over each other and over him; and suddenly all -three became motionless. - -He told me that no less than two thousand men were lost at that one -wire entanglement. While they were hacking at the wire and getting -entangled in its serpentine coils, they were pelted by an incessant -rain of balls and grape-shot. He assured me it was very terrifying, and -if only they had known in which direction to run, that attack would -have ended in a panic flight. But ten or twelve continuous lines of -wire, and the struggle with it, a whole labyrinth of pitfalls with -stakes driven in at the bottom, had muddled them so, that they were -quite incapable of defining the direction of escape. - -Some, like men blind, fell into the funnel-shaped pits, and hung upon -the sharp stakes, pierced through the stomach, twitching convulsively -and dancing like toy clowns; they were crushed down by fresh bodies, -and soon the whole pit filled to the edges, and presented a writhing -mass of bleeding bodies, dead and living. Hands thrust themselves out -of it in all directions, the fingers working convulsively, catching at -everything; and those who once got caught in that trap could not get -back again: hundreds of fingers, strong and blind, like the claws of -a lobster, gripped them firmly by the legs, caught at their clothes, -threw them down upon themselves, gouged out their eyes and throttled -them. Many seemed as if they were intoxicated, and ran straight at the -wire, got caught in it, and remained shrieking, until a bullet finished -them. - -Generally speaking, they all seemed like people intoxicated: some swore -dreadfully, others laughed when the wire caught them by the arm or leg -and died there and then. He himself, although he had had nothing to eat -or drink since the morning, felt very queer. His head swam, and there -were moments when the feeling of terror in him changed to wild rapture, -and from rapture again to terror. When somebody struck up a song at his -side, he caught up the tune, and soon a whole unanimous chorus broke -forth. He did not remember what they sang, only that it was lively in -a dancing strain. Yes, they sang, while all around them was red with -blood. The very sky seemed to be red, and one could have thought that -a catastrophe had overwhelmed the universe--a strange disappearance of -colours: the light-blue and green and other habitual peaceful colours -had disappeared, while the sun blazed forth in a red flare-light. - -"The red laugh," said I. - -But he did not understand. - -"Yes, and they laughed, as I told you before, like people intoxicated. -Perhaps they even danced. There was something of the sort. At least the -movements of those three resembled dancing." - -He remembers distinctly, when he was shot through the chest and fell, -his legs twitched for some time until he lost consciousness, as if he -were dancing to music. And at the present moment, when he thinks of -that attack, a strange feeling comes over him: partly fear and partly -the desire to experience it all over again. - -"And get another ball in your chest?" asked I. - -"There now, why should I get a ball each time. But it would not be half -bad, old boy to get a medal for bravery." - -He was lying on his back with a waxen face, sharp nose, prominent -cheek-bones and sunken eyes. He was lying looking like a corpse and -dreaming of a medal! Mortification had already set in; he had a high -temperature, and in three days' time he was to be thrown into the grave -to join the dead; nevertheless he lay smiling dreamily and talking -about a medal. - -"Have you telegraphed to your mother?" I asked. - -He glanced at me with terror, animosity and anger, and did not answer. -I was silent, and then the groans and ravings of the wounded became -audible. But when I rose to go, he caught my hand in his hot, but still -strong one, and fixed his sunken burning eyes upon me in a lost and -distressed way. - -"What does it all mean, ay? What does it all mean?" asked he in a -frightened and persistent manner, pulling at my hand. - -"What?" - -"Everything ... in general. Now, she is waiting for me. But I cannot. -My country--is it possible to make her understand, what my country -means." - -"The red laugh," answered I. - -"Ah! you are always joking, but I am serious. It is indispensable to -explain it; but is it possible to make her understand? If you only -knew what she says in her letters!--what she writes! And you know her -words--are grey-haired. And you--" he looked curiously at my head, -pointed his finger and suddenly breaking into a laugh said: "Why, you -have grown bald. Have you noticed it?" - -"There are no looking-glasses here." - -"Many have grown bald and grey. Look here, give me a looking-glass. -Give me one! I feel white hair growing out of my head. Give me a -looking-glass!" He became delirious, crying and shouting out, and I -left the hospital. - -That same evening we got up an entertainment--a sad and strange -entertainment, at which, amongst the guests, the shadows of the dead -assisted. We decided to gather in the evening and have tea, as if we -were at home, at a picnic. We got a samovar, we even got a lemon and -glasses, and established ourselves under a tree, as if we were at -home, at a picnic. Our companions arrived noisily in twos and threes, -talking, joking and full of gleeful expectation--but soon grew silent, -avoiding to look at each other, for there was something fearful in this -meeting of spared men. In tatters, dirty, itching as if we were covered -by a dreadful ringworm, with hair neglected, thin and worn, having lost -all familiar and habitual aspect, we seemed to see each other for the -first time as we gathered round the samovar, and seeing each other, we -grew terrified. In vain I looked for a familiar face in this group of -disconcerted men--I could not find one. These men, restless, hasty and -jerky in their movements, starting at every sound, constantly looking -for something behind their backs, trying to fill up that mysterious -void into which they were too terrified to look, by superfluous -gesticulations--were new, strange men, whom I did not know. And their -voices sounded different, articulating the words with difficulty in -jerks, easily passing into angry shouts or senseless, irrepressible -laughter at the slightest provocation. And everything around us was -strange to us. The tree was strange, and the sunset strange, and the -water strange, with a peculiar taste and smell, as if we had left the -earth and entered into a new world together with the dead--a world of -mysterious phenomena and ominous sombre shadows. The sunset was yellow -and cold; black, unillumined, motionless clouds hung heavily over it, -while the earth under it was black, and our faces in that ill-omened -light seemed yellow, like the faces of the dead. We all sat watching -the samovar, but it went out, its sides reflecting the yellowishness -and menace of the sunset, and it seemed also an unfamiliar, dead and -incomprehensible object. - -"Where are we!" asked somebody, and uneasiness and fear sounded in his -voice. Somebody sighed; somebody convulsively cracked his fingers; -somebody laughed; somebody jumped up and began walking quickly round -the table. These last days one could often meet with such men, that -were always walking hastily, almost running, at times strangely -silent, at times mumbling something in an uncanny way. - -"At the war," answered he who had laughed, and again burst into a -hollow, lingering laugh, as if something was choking him. - -"What is he laughing at?" asked somebody, indignantly. "Look here, stop -it!" - -The other choked once more, gave a titter and stopped obediently. - -It was growing dark, the cloud seemed to be settling down on the -earth, and we could with difficulty distinguish each other's yellow -phantom-like faces. Somebody asked,-- - -"And where is Fatty-legs?" - -"Fatty-legs" we called a fellow-officer, who, being short, wore -enormous water-tight boots. - -"He was here just now. Fatty-legs, where are you?" - -"Fatty-legs, don't hide. We can smell your boots." - -Everybody laughed, but their laugh was interrupted by a rough, -indignant voice that sounded out of the darkness,-- - -"Stop that! Are you not ashamed? Fatty-legs was killed this morning -reconnoitring." - -"He was here just now. It must be a mistake." - -"You imagined it. Heigh-ho! you there, behind the samovar, cut me a -slice of lemon." - -"And me!" - -"And me!" - -"The lemon is finished." - -"How is that, boys?" sounded a gentle, hurt voice, full of distress and -almost crying; "why, I only came for the sake of the lemon." - -The other again burst into a hollow and lingering laugh, and nobody -checked him. But he soon stopped. He gave a snigger, and was silent. -Somebody said,-- - -"To-morrow we begin the advance on the enemy." - -But several voices cried out angrily,-- - -"Nonsense, advance on the enemy indeed!" - -"But you know yourself--" - -"Shut up. As if we cannot talk of something else." - -The sunset faded. The cloud lifted, and it seemed to grow lighter; the -faces became more familiar, and he, who kept circling round us, grew -calmer and sat down. - -"I wonder what it's like at home now?" asked he, vaguely, and in his -voice there sounded a guilty smile. - -And once again all became terrible, incomprehensible and strange--so -intensely so, that we were filled with horror, almost to the verge -of losing consciousness. And we all began talking and shouting at the -same time, bustling about, moving our glasses, touching each other's -shoulders, hands, knees--and all at once became silent, giving way -before the incomprehensible. - -"At home?" cried somebody out of the darkness. His voice was hoarse and -quivering with emotion, fear and hatred. And some of the words would -not come out, as if he had forgotten how to say them. - -"A home? What home? Why, is there home anywhere? Don't interrupt me -or else I shall fire. At home I used to take a bath every day--can -you understand?--a bath with water--water up to the very edges. While -now--I do not even wash my face every day. My head is covered with -scurf, and my whole body itches and over it crawl, crawl.... I am going -mad from dirt, while you talk of--home! I am like an animal, I despise -myself, I cannot recognise myself, and death is not at all terrifying. -You tear my brain with your shrapnel-shots. Aim at what you will, all -hit my brain--and you can speak of--home. What home? Streets, windows, -people, but I would not go into the street now for anything. I should -be ashamed to. You brought a samovar here, but I was ashamed to look at -it." - -The other laughed again. Somebody called out,-- - -"D--n it all! I shall go home." - -"Home?" - -"You don't understand what duty is!" - -"Home? Listen! he wants to go home!" - -There was a burst of laughter and of painful shouts--and again all -became silent--giving way before the incomprehensible. And then not -only I, but every one of us felt _that_. It was coming towards us out -of those dark, mysterious and strange fields; it was rising from out -of those obscure dark ravines, where, maybe, the forgotten and lost -among the stones were still dying; it was flowing from the strange, -unfamiliar sky. We stood around the dying-out samovar in silence, -losing consciousness from horror, while an enormous, shapeless shadow -that had risen above the world, looked down upon us from the sky with -a steady and silent gaze. Suddenly, quite close to us, probably at -the Commander's house, music burst forth, and the frenzied, joyous, -loud sounds seemed to flash out into the night and stillness. The band -played with frenzied mirth and defiance, hurriedly, discordantly, -too loudly, and too joyously, and one could feel that those who -were playing, and those who were listening, saw as we did, that same -enormous, shapeless shadow, risen above the world. And it was clear the -player on the trumpet carried in himself, in his very brain and ears, -that same enormous dumb shadow. The abrupt and broken sound tossed -about, jumping and running away from the others, quivering with horror -and insanity in its lonesomeness. And the other sounds seemed to be -looking round at it, so clumsily they ran, stumbling, falling, and -again rising in a disorderly crowd--too loud, too joyous, too close to -the black ravines, where most probably the forgotten and lost among the -boulders were still dying. - -And we stood for a long time around the cold samovar and were silent. - - -FRAGMENT V - -... I was already asleep when the doctor roused me by pushing me -cautiously. I woke, and jumping up, cried out, as we all did when -anybody wakened us, and rushed to the entrance of our tent. But the -doctor held me firmly by the arm, excusing himself,-- - -"I frightened you, forgive me. I know you want to sleep...." - -"Five days and nights ..." I muttered, dozing off. I fell asleep and -slept, as it seemed to me for a long time, when the doctor again began -speaking, poking me cautiously in the ribs and legs. - -"But it is very urgent. Dear fellow, please--it is so pressing. I keep -thinking ... I cannot ... I keep thinking, that some of the wounded -were left...." - -"What wounded? Why, you were bringing them in the whole day long. Leave -me in peace. It is not fair--I have not slept for five days!" - -"Dear boy, don't be angry," muttered the doctor, awkwardly putting -my cap on my head; "everybody is asleep, it's impossible to rouse -anybody. I've got hold of an engine and seven carriages, but we're in -want of men. I understand.... Dear fellow, I implore you. Everybody -is asleep and everybody refuses. I'm afraid of falling asleep myself. -I don't remember when I slept last. I believe I'm beginning to have -hallucinations. There's a dear fellow, put down your feet, just -one--there--there...." - -The doctor was pale and tottering, and one could see that if he were -only to lie down for an instant he would fall asleep and remain so -without waking for several days running. My legs sank under me, and -I am certain I fell asleep as I walked--so suddenly and unexpectedly -appeared before us a row of black outlines--the engine and carriages. -Near them, scarcely distinguishable in the darkness, some men were -wandering about slowly and silently. There was not a single light -either on the engine or carriages, and only the shut ash-box threw a -dim reddish light on to the rails. - -"What is this?" asked I, stepping back. - -"Why, we are going in the train. Have you forgotten? We are going in -the train," muttered the doctor. - -The night was chilly and he was trembling from cold, and as I looked at -him I felt the same rapid tickling shiver all over my body. - -"D--n you!" I cried loudly. "Just as if you couldn't have taken -somebody else." - -"Hush! please, hush!" and the doctor caught me by the arm. - -Somebody out of the darkness said,-- - -"If you were to fire a volley from all the guns, nobody would stir. -They are all asleep. One could go up and bind them all. Just now I -passed quite close to the sentry. He looked at me and did not say a -word, never stirred. I suppose he was asleep too. It's a wonder he does -not fall down." - -He who spoke yawned and his clothes rustled, evidently he was -stretching himself. I leant against the side of the carriage, intending -to climb up--and was instantly overcome by sleep. Somebody lifted me -up from behind and laid me down, while I began pushing him away with -my feet, without knowing why, and again I fell asleep, hearing as in a -dream fragments of a conversation: - -"At the seventh verst." - -"Have you forgotten the lanterns?" - -"No, he won't go." - -"Give them here. Back a little. That's it." - -The carriages were jerking backwards and forwards, something was -rattling. And gradually, because of all these sounds and because I -was lying comfortably and quietly, sleep deserted me. But the doctor -was sound asleep, and when I took him by the hand, it was like the -hand of a corpse, heavy and limp. The train was now moving slowly and -cautiously, shaking slightly, as if groping its way. The student acting -as hospital orderly lighted the candle in the lantern, lighting up the -walls and the black aperture of the entrance, and said angrily,-- - -"D--n it! Much they need us by this time. But you had better wake him, -before he falls into a sound sleep, for then you won't be able to do -anything with him. I know by myself." - -We roused the doctor and he sat up, rolling his eyes vacantly. He tried -to lie down again, but we did not let him. - -"It would be good to have a drop of vodki now," said the student. - -We drank a mouthful of brandy, and all sleepiness disappeared -entirely. The big black square of the door began to grow pink, then -red--somewhere from behind the hills appeared an enormous mute flare of -a conflagration: as if the sun was rising in the middle of the night. - -"It's far away. About twenty versts." - -"I feel cold," said the doctor, snapping his teeth. - -The student looked out of the door and beckoned me to come up to him. -I looked out: at different points of the horizon motionless flares of -similar conflagration stood out in a mute row: as if dozens of suns -were rising simultaneously. And now the darkness was not so great. -The distant hills were growing more densely black, sharply outlined -against the sky in a broken and wavy contour, while in the foreground -all was flooded with a red soft glow, silent and motionless. I glanced -at the student; his face was tinged by the same red fantastic colour of -blood, that had changed itself into air and light. - -"Are there many wounded?" asked I. - -He waved his hand. - -"A great many madmen. More so than wounded." - -"Real madmen?" - -"What others can there be?" - -He was looking at me, and his eyes wore the same fixed, wild -expression, full of cold horror, that the soldier's had, who died of -sunstroke. - -"Stop that," said I, turning away. - -"The doctor is mad also. Just look at him." - -The doctor had not heard. He was sitting cross-legged, like a Turk, -swaying to and fro, soundlessly moving his lips and finger-tips. And -in his gaze there was the same fixed, stupefied, blunt, stricken -expression. - -"I feel cold," said he, and smiled. - -"Hang you all!" cried I, moving away into a corner of the carriage. -"What did you call me up for?" - -Nobody answered. The student stood gazing out at the mute spreading -glow, and the back of his head with its curly hair was youthful; and -when I looked at him, I do not know why, but I kept picturing to myself -a delicate woman's hand passing through that hair. And this image was -so unpleasant, that a feeling of hatred sprang up in my breast, and I -could not look at him without a feeling of loathing. - -"How old are you?" I asked, but he did not turn his head and did not -answer. - -The doctor kept on rocking himself. - -"I feel cold." - -"When I think," said the student, without turning round, "when I think -that there are streets, houses, a University...." - -He broke off, as if he had said all and was silent. Suddenly the train -stopped almost instantaneously, making me knock myself against the -wall, and voices were to be heard. We jumped out. In front of the very -engine upon the rails lay something, a not very large lump, out of -which a leg was projecting. - -"Wounded?" - -"No, dead. The head is torn off. Say what you will, but I will light -the head-light. Otherwise we shall be crushing somebody." - -The lump with the protruding leg was thrown aside; for an instant the -leg lifted itself up, as if it wanted to run through the air, and all -disappeared in a black ditch. The head-light was lit and the engine -instantly grew black. - -"Listen!" whispered somebody, full of silent terror. - -How was it that we had not heard it before! From everywhere--the exact -place could not be defined--a groan, unbroken and scraping, wonderfully -calm in its breadth, and even indifferent, as it seemed, was borne upon -us. We had heard many cries and groans, but this resembled none of -those heard before. On the dim reddish surface our eyes could perceive -nothing, and therefore the very earth and sky, lit up by a never-rising -sun, seemed to be groaning. - -"The fifth verst," said the engine-driver. - -"That is where it comes from," and the doctor pointed forwards. The -student shuddered, and slowly turned towards us. - -"What is it? It's terrible to listen to!" - -"Let's move on." - -We walked along in front of the engine, throwing a dense shadow upon -the rails, but it was not black but of a dim red colour, lit up by the -soft motionless flares, that stood out mutely at the different points -of the black sky. And with each step we made, that wild unearthly -groan, that had no visible source, grew ominously, as if it was the red -air, the very earth and sky, that were groaning. In its ceaselessness -and strange indifference it recalled at times the noise of grasshoppers -in a meadow--the ceaseless noise of grasshoppers in a meadow on a -warm summer day. And we came upon dead bodies oftener and oftener. We -examined them rapidly and threw them off the rails--those indifferent, -calm, limp bodies, that left dark oily stains where the blood had -soaked into the earth where they had lain. At first we counted them, -but soon got muddled, and ceased. They were many--too many for that -ominous night, that breathed cold and groans from each fibre of its -being. - -"What does it mean?" cried the doctor, and threatened somebody with his -fist. "Just listen...." - -We were nearing the sixth verst, and the groans were growing distinct -and sharp, and we could almost feel the distorted mouths, from which -those terrible sounds were issuing. - -We looked anxiously into the rosy gloom, so deceitful in its fantastic -light, when suddenly, almost at our feet, beside the rails, somebody -gave a loud, calling, crying, groan. We found him instantly, that -wounded man, whose face seemed to consist only of two eyes, so big they -appeared, when the light of the lantern fell on his face. He stopped -groaning, and rested his eyes on each of us and our lanterns in turn, -and in his glance there was a mad joy at seeing men and lights--and a -mad fear that all would disappear like a vision. Perhaps he had seen -men with lanterns bending over him many times, but they had always -disappeared in a bloody confused nightmare. - -We moved on, and almost instantly stumbled against two more wounded, -one lying on the rails, the other groaning in a ditch. As we were -picking them up, the doctor, trembling with anger, said to me: "Well?" -and turned away. Several steps farther on we met a man wounded -slightly, who was walking alone, supporting one arm with the other. He -was walking with his head thrown back, straight towards us, but seemed -not to notice us, when we drew aside to let him pass. I believe he did -not see us. He stopped for an instant near the engine, turned aside, -and went past the train. - -"You had better get in!" cried the doctor, but he did not answer. - -These were the first that we found, and they horrified us. But later -on we came upon them oftener and oftener along the rails or near -them, and the whole field, lit up by the motionless red flare of the -conflagrations, began stirring as if it were alive, breaking out into -loud cries, wails, curses and groans. All those dark mounds stirred -and crawled about like half-dead lobsters let out of a basket, with -outspread legs, scarcely resembling men in their broken, unconscious -movements and ponderous immobility. Some were mute and obedient, others -groaned, wailed, swore and showed such a passionate hate towards us -that were saving them, as if _we_ had brought about that bloodly, -indifferent night, and been the cause of all those terrible wounds and -their loneliness amidst the night and dead bodies. - -The train was full, and our clothes were saturated with blood, as if -we had stood for a long time under a rain of blood, while the wounded -were still being brought in, and the field, come to life, was stirring -wildly as before. - -Some of the wounded crawled up themselves, some walked up tottering and -falling. One soldier almost ran up to us. His face was smashed, and -only one eye remained, burning wildly and terribly, and he was almost -naked, as if he had come from the bath-room. Pushing me aside, he -caught sight of the doctor, and rapidly seized him by the chest with -his left hand. - -"I'll smash your snout!" he cried, shaking the doctor, and added slowly -and mordantly a coarse oath. "I'll smash your snouts! you rabble!" - -The doctor broke away from the soldier, and advancing towards him, -cried chokingly,-- - -"I will have you court-martialled, you scoundrel! To prison with you! -You're hindering my work! Scoundrel! Brute!" - -We pulled them apart, but the soldier kept on crying out for a long -time: "Rabble! I'll smash your snout!" - -I was beginning to get exhausted, and went a little way off to have -a smoke and rest a bit. The blood, dried to my hands, covered them -like a pair of black gloves, making it difficult for me to bend my -fingers, so that I kept dropping my cigarettes and matches. And when -I succeeded in lighting my cigarette, the tobacco smoke struck me as -novel and strange, with quite a peculiar taste, the like of which I -never experienced before or after. Just then the ambulance student with -whom I had travelled came up to me, and it seemed to me as if I had -met with him several years back, but where I could not remember. His -tread was firm as if he were marching, and he was staring through me at -something farther on and higher up. - -"And they are sleeping," said he, as it seemed, quite calmly. - -I flew into a rage, as if the reproach was addressed to me. - -"You forget, that they fought like lions for ten days." - -"And they are sleeping," he repeated, looking through me and higher up. -Then he stooped down to me and shaking his finger, continued in the -same dry and calm way: "I will tell you--I will tell you...." - -"What?" - -He stooped still lower towards me, shaking his finger meaningly, and -kept repeating the words as if they expressed a completed idea,-- - -"I will tell you--I will tell you. Tell them...." And still looking at -me in the same severe way, he shook his finger once more, then took out -his revolver and shot himself in the temple. And this did not surprise -or terrify me in the least. Putting my cigarette into the left hand, I -felt his wound with my fingers, and went back to the train. - -"The student has shot himself. I believe he is still alive," said I to -the doctor. The latter caught hold of his head and groaned. - -"D--n him!... There is no room. There, that one will go and shoot -himself too, soon. And I give you my word of honour," cried he, angrily -and menacingly, "I will do the same! Yes! And let me beg you--just walk -back. There is no room. You can lodge a complaint against me if you -like." - -And he turned away, still shouting, while I went up to the other who -was about to commit suicide. He was an ambulance man, and also, I -believe, a student. He stood, pressing his forehead against the wall of -the carriage, and his shoulders shook with sobs. - -"Stop!" said I, touching his quivering shoulder. But he did not turn -round or answer, and continued crying. And the back of his head was -youthful, like the other student's, and as terrifying, and he stood in -an absurd manner with his legs spread out like a person drunk, who is -sick; and his neck was covered with blood; probably he had clutched it -with his own hands. - -"Well?" said I, impatiently. - -He pushed himself away from the carriage and, stooping like an old man, -with his head bent down, he went away into the darkness, away from all -of us. I do not know why, but I followed him, and we walked along for -a long time away from the carriages. I believe he was crying, and a -feeling of distress stole over me, and I wanted to cry too. - -"Stop!" I cried, standing still. - -But he walked on, moving his feet ponderously, bent down, looking like -an old man with his narrow shoulders and shuffling gait. And soon he -disappeared in the reddish haze, that resembled light and yet lit -nothing. And I remained alone. To the left of me a row of dim lights -floated past--it was the train. I was alone--amidst the dead and dying. -How many more remained? Near me all was still and dead, but farther -on the field was stirring, as if it were alive--or so it seemed to me -in my loneliness. But the moan did not grow less. It spread along the -earth--high-pitched, hopeless, like the cry of a child or the yelping -of thousands of cast-away puppies, starving and cold. Like a sharp, -endless, icy needle it pierced your brain and slowly moved backwards -and forwards--backwards and forwards.... - - -FRAGMENT VI - -... They were our own men. During the strange confusion of all -movements that reigned in both armies, our own and the enemy's, during -the last month, frustrating all orders and plans, we were sure it -was the enemy that was approaching us, namely, the 4th corps. And -everything was ready for an attack, when somebody clearly discerned our -uniforms, and ten minutes later our guess had become a calm and happy -certainty: they were our own men. They apparently had recognised us -too: they advanced quite calmly, and that calm motion seemed to express -the same happy smile of an unexpected meeting. - -And when they began firing, we did not understand for some time what -it meant, and still continued smiling--under a hail of shrapnel and -bullets, that poured down upon us, snatching away at one stroke -hundreds of men. Somebody cried out by mistake and--I clearly -remember--we all saw that it was the enemy, that it was his uniform and -not ours, and instantly answered the fire. About fifteen minutes after -the beginning of that strange engagement both my legs were torn off, -and I recovered consciousness in the hospital after the amputation. - -I asked how the battle had ended, and received an evasive, reassuring -answer, by which I could understand that we had been beaten; and -afterwards, legless as I was, I was overcome by joy at the thought that -now I would be sent home, that I was alive--alive for a long time to -come, alive forever. And only a week later I learnt some particulars, -that once more filled me with doubts and a new, unexperienced feeling -of terror. Yes, I believe they were our own men after all--and it was -with one of our shells, fired out of one of our guns by one of our -men, that my legs had been torn off. And nobody could explain how -it had happened. Something occurred, something darkened our vision, -and two regiments, belonging to the same army, facing each other at -a distance of one verst, had been destroying each other for a whole -hour in the full conviction that it was the enemy they had before -them. Later on the incident was remembered and spoken of reluctantly -in half-words and--what is most surprising of all--one could feel -that many of the speakers did not admit the mistake even then. That -is to say, they admitted it, but thought that it had occurred later -on, that in the beginning they really had the enemy before them, but -that he disappeared somewhere during the general fray, leaving us in -the range of our own shells. Some spoke of it openly, giving precise -explanations, which seemed to them plausible and clear. Up to this -very minute I cannot say for certain how the strange blunder began, -as I saw with equal clearness first our red uniforms and then their -orange-coloured ones. And somehow very soon everybody forgot about the -incident, forgot about it to such an extent that it was spoken of as -a real battle, and in that sense many accounts were written and sent -to the papers in all good faith; I read them when I was back home. At -first the public's attitude towards us, the wounded in that engagement, -was rather strange--we seemed to be less pitied than those wounded in -other battles, but soon even that disappeared too. And only new facts, -similar to the one just described, and a case in the enemy's army, when -two detachments actually destroyed each other almost entirely, having -come to a hand-to-hand fight during the night--gives me the right to -think that a mistake did occur. - -Our doctor, the one that did the amputation, a lean, bony old man, -tainted with tobacco smoke and carbolic acid, everlastingly smiling -at something through his yellowish-grey thin moustache, said to me, -winking his eye,-- - -"You're in luck to be going home. There's something wrong here." - -"What is it?" - -"Something's going wrong. In our time it was simpler." - -He had taken part in the last European war almost a quarter of a -century back and often referred to it with pleasure. But this war he -did not understand, and, as I noticed, feared it. - -"Yes, there's something wrong," sighed he, and frowned, disappearing in -a cloud of tobacco smoke. "I would leave too, if I could." - -And bending over me he whispered through his yellow smoked moustache,-- - -"A time will come when nobody will be able to go away from here. Yes, -neither I nor anybody," and in his old eyes, so close to me, I saw -the same fixed, dull, stricken expression. And something terrible, -unbearable, resembling the fall of thousands of buildings, darted -through my head, and growing cold from terror, I whispered,-- - -"The red laugh." - -And he was the first to understand me. He hastily nodded his head and -repeated,-- - -"Yes. The red laugh." - -He sat down quite close to me and looking round began whispering -rapidly, in a senile way, wagging his sharp, grey little beard. - -"You are leaving soon, and I will tell you. Did you ever see a fight -in an asylum? No? Well, I saw one. And they fought like sane people. -You understand--like sane people." He significantly repeated the last -phrase several times. - -"Well, and what of that?" asked I, also in a whisper, full of terror. - -"Nothing. Like sane people." - -"The red laugh," said I. - -"They were separated by water being poured over them." - -I remembered the rain that had frightened us so, and got angry. - -"You are mad, doctor!" - -"Not more than you. Not more than you in any case." - -He hugged his sharp old knees and chuckled; and, looking at me over -his shoulder and still with the echo of that unexpected painful -laugh on his parched lips, he winked at me slyly several times, as -if we two knew something very funny, that nobody else knew. Then -with the solemnity of a professor of black magic, giving a conjuring -performance, he lifted his arm and, lowering it slowly, carefully -touched with two fingers that part of the blanket, under which my legs -would have been, if they had not been cut off. - -"And do you understand this?" he asked mysteriously. - -Then, in the same solemn and significant manner, he waved his hand -towards the row of beds on which the wounded were lying, and repeated,-- - -"And can you explain this?" - -"The wounded?" said I. "The wounded?" - -"The wounded," repeated he, like an echo. "The wounded. Legless and -armless, with pierced sides, smashed-in chests and torn-out eyes. You -understand it? I am very glad. So I suppose you will understand this -also?" - -With an agility, quite unexpected for his age, he flung himself down -and stood on his hands, balancing his legs in the air. His white -working clothes turned down, his face grew purple and, looking at me -fixedly with a strange upturned gaze, he threw at me with difficulty a -few broken words,-- - -"And this ... do you ... also ... understand?" - -"Stop!" whispered I in terror, "or else I will cry out." - -He turned over into a natural position, sat down again near my bed, and -taking breath, remarked instinctively,-- - -"And nobody can understand it." - -"Yesterday they were firing again." - -"Yes, they were firing yesterday and the day before," said he, nodding -his head affirmatively. - -"I want to go home!" said I in distress. "Doctor, dear fellow, I want -to go home. I cannot remain here any longer. At times I cannot bring -myself to believe that I have a home, where it is so good." - -He was thinking of something and did not answer, and I began to cry. - -"My God, I have no legs. I used to love my bicycle so, to walk and run, -and now I have no legs. I used to dance my boy on the right foot and he -laughed, and now.... Curse you all! What shall I go home for? I am only -thirty.... Curse you all!" - -And I sobbed and sobbed, as I thought of my dear legs, my fleet, strong -legs. Who took them away from me, who dared to take them away! - -"Listen," said the doctor, looking aside. "Yesterday I saw a mad -soldier that came to us. An enemy's soldier. He was stripped almost -naked, beaten and scratched and hungry as an animal, his hair was -unkempt, as ours is, and he resembled a savage, primitive man or -monkey. He waved his arms about, made grimaces, sang and shouted -and wanted to fight. He was fed and driven out again--into the open -country. Where could we have kept him? Days and nights they wander -about the hills, backwards and forwards in all directions, keeping to -no path, having no aim or resting-place, all in tatters like ominous -phantoms. They wave their arms, laugh, shout and sing, and when they -come across anybody they begin to fight, or, maybe, without noticing -each other, pass by. What do they eat? Probably nothing, or, maybe, -they feed on the dead bodies together with the beasts, together with -those fat wild dogs, that fight in the hills and yelp the whole night -long. At night they gather about the fires like monstrous moths or -birds awakened by a storm, and you need only light a fire to have in -less than half-an-hour a dozen noisy, tattered wild shapes, resembling -chilled monkeys, gathering around it. Sometimes they are fired at by -mistake, sometimes on purpose, for they make you lose all patience with -their unintelligible, terrifying cries...." - -"I want to go home!" cried I, shutting my ears. - -But new terrible words, sounding hollow and phantom-like, as if they -were passing through a layer of wadding, kept hammering at my brain. - -"They are many. They die by hundreds in the precipices and pitfalls, -that are made for sound and clever men, in the remnants of the barbed -wire and on the stakes; they take part in the regular battles and fight -like heroes--always in the foremost ranks, always undaunted, but often -turn against their own men. I like them. At present I am only beginning -to go mad, and that is why I am sitting and talking to you, but when -my senses leave me entirely, I will go out into the open country--I -will go out into the open country, and I will give a call--I will give -a call, I will gather those brave ones, those knights-errant, around -me, and declare war to the whole world. We will enter the towns and -villages in a joyous crowd, with music and songs, leaving in our wake a -trail of red, in which everything will whirl and dance like fire. Those -that remain alive will join us, and our brave army will grow like an -avalanche, and will cleanse the whole world. Who said that one must not -kill, burn or rob?..." - -He was shouting now, that mad doctor, and seemed to have awakened by -his cries the slumbering pain of all those around him with their -ripped-open chests and sides, torn-out eyes and cut-off legs. The ward -filled with a broad, rasping, crying groan, and from all sides pale, -yellow, exhausted faces, some eyeless, some so monstrously mutilated -that it seemed as if they had returned from hell, turned towards us. -And they groaned and listened, and a black shapeless shadow, risen up -from the earth, peeped in cautiously through the open door, while the -mad doctor went on shouting, stretching out his arms. - -"Who said one must not kill, burn, or rob? We will kill and burn and -rob. We, a joyous careless band of braves, we will destroy all; their -buildings, universities and museums, and merry as children, full -of fiery laughter, we will dance on the ruins. I will proclaim the -madhouse our fatherland; all those that have not gone mad--our enemies -and madmen; and when I, great, unconquerable and joyous, will begin to -reign over the whole world, its sole lord and master, what a glad laugh -will ring over the whole universe." - -"The red laugh!" cried I, interrupting him. "Help. Again I hear the red -laugh!" - -"Friends!" continued the doctor, addressing himself to the groaning -mutilated shadows. "Friends! we shall have a red moon and a red sun, -and the animals will have a merry red coat, and we will skin all those -that are too white--that are too white.... You have not tasted blood? -It is slightly sticky and slightly warm, but it is red and has such a -merry red laugh!..." - - -FRAGMENT VII - -... It was godless and unlawful. The red cross is respected by the -whole world, as a thing sacred, and they saw that it was a train full -of harmless wounded and not soldiers, and they ought to have warned us -of the mine. The poor fellows, they were dreaming of home.... - - -FRAGMENT VIII - -... Around a samovar, around a real samovar, out of which the steam was -rising as out of an engine--the glass on the lamp had even grown dim, -there was so much steam. And the cups were the same, blue outside and -white inside, very pretty little cups, a wedding present. My wife's -sister gave them--she is a very kind and good woman. - -"Is it possible they are all whole?" asked I, incredulously, mixing the -sugar in my glass with a clean silver spoon. - -"One was broken," said my wife, absently; she was holding the tap open -just then and the water was running out easily and prettily. - -I laughed. - -"What's it about?" asked my brother. - -"Oh, nothing. Wheel me into the study just once more. You may as well -trouble yourself for the sake of a hero. You idled away your time while -I was away, but now that is over. I'll bring you to order," and I began -singing, as a joke of course,--"My friends, we're bravely hurrying -towards the foe...." - -They understood the joke and smiled, only my wife did not lift up her -face, she was wiping the cups with a clean embroidered cloth. And in -the study I saw once again the light-blue wall-paper, a lamp with a -green shade and a table with a water-bottle upon it. And it was a -little dusty. - -"Pour me some water out of this," ordered I, merrily. - -"But you've just had tea." - -"That doesn't matter, pour me out some. And you," said I to my wife, -"take our son and go into the next room for a minute. Please." - -And I drank the water with delight in small sips, while my wife and -son were in the next room, and I could not see them. - -"That's all right. Now come here. But why is he not in bed by this -time?" - -"He is so glad you have come home. Darling, go to your father." - -But the child began to cry and hid himself at his mother's feet. - -"Why is he crying?" asked I, in perplexity, and looked around, "why are -you all so pale and silent, following me like shadows?" - -My brother burst into a loud laugh and said, "We are not silent." - -And my sister said, "We are talking the whole time." - -"I will go and see about the supper," said my mother, and hurriedly -left the room. - -"Yes, you are silent," I repeated, with sudden conviction. "Since -morning I have not heard a word from you; I am the only one who chats, -laughs, and makes merry. Are you not glad to see me then? And why do -you all avoid looking at me? Have I changed so? Yes, I am changed. But -I do not see any looking-glasses about. Have you put them all away? -Give me a looking-glass." - -"I will bring you one directly," answered my wife, and did not come -back for a long time, and the looking-glass was brought by the maid. -I looked into it, and--I had seen myself before in the train, at the -station--it was the same face, grown older a little, but the most -ordinary face. While they, I believe, expected me to cry out and -faint--so glad were they when I asked calmly,-- - -"What is there so unusual in me?" - -Laughing louder and louder, my sister left the room hurriedly, and my -brother said with calm assurance: "Yes, you have not changed much, only -grown slightly bald." - -"You can be thankful that my head is not broken," answered I, -unconcernedly. "But where do they all disappear?--first one, then -another. Wheel me about the rooms, please. What a comfortable armchair, -it does not make the slightest sound. How much did it cost? You bet -I won't spare the money: I will buy myself such a pair of legs, -better.... My bicycle!" - -It was hanging on the wall, quite new, only the tyres were limp for -want of pumping. A tiny bit of mud had dried to the tyre of the back -wheel--the last time I had ridden it. My brother was silent and did not -move my chair, and I understood his silence and irresoluteness. - -"Only four officers remained alive in our regiment," said I, surlily. -"I am very lucky.... You can take it for yourself--take it away -to-morrow." - -"All right, I will take it," agreed my brother submissively. "Yes, -you are lucky. Half of the town is in mourning. While legs--that is -really...." - -"Of course I am not a postman." - -My brother stopped suddenly and asked,-- - -"But why does your head shake?" - -"That's nothing. The doctor said it will pass." - -"And your hands too?" - -"Yes, yes. And my hands too. It will all pass. Wheel me on, please, I -am tired of remaining still." - -They upset me, those discontented people, but my gladness returned to -me when they began making my bed; a real bed, a handsome bed, that I -had bought just before our wedding four years ago. They spread a clean -sheet, then they shook the pillows and turned down the blanket, while I -watched the solemn proceedings, my eyes full of tears with laughing. - -"And now undress me and put me to bed," said I to my wife. "How good it -is!" - -"This minute, dear." - -"Quicker!" - -"This minute, dear." - -"Why; what are you doing?" - -"This minute, dear." - -She was standing behind my back, near the toilette table, and I vainly -tried to turn my head so as to see her. And suddenly she gave a cry, -such a cry as one hears only at the war,-- - -"What does it all mean?" - -She rushed towards me, put her arms round me, and fell down, hiding her -head near the stumps of my cut-off legs, from which she turned away -with horror, and again pressed herself against them, kissing them, and -crying,-- - -"What have you become? Why, you are only thirty years old. You were -young and handsome. What does it all mean? How cruel men are. What -is it for? For whom is it necessary? You, my gentle, poor darling, -darling...." - -At her cry they all ran up--my mother, sister, nurse--and they all -began crying and saying something or other, and fell at my feet -wailing. While on the threshold stood my brother, pale, terribly pale, -with a trembling jaw, and cried out in a high-pitched voice,-- - -"I shall go mad with you all. I shall go mad!" - -While my mother grovelled at my chair and had not the strength to cry, -but only gasped, beating her head against the wheels. And there stood -the clean bed with the well-shaken pillows and turned-down blanket, the -same bed that I bought just before our wedding four years ago.... - - -FRAGMENT IX - -... I was sitting in a warm bath, while my brother was pacing up and -down the small room in a troubled manner, sitting down, getting up -again, catching hold of the soap and towel, bringing them close up to -his short-sighted eyes and again putting them back in their places. At -last he stood up with his face to the wall and picking at the plaster -with his finger, continued hotly. - -"Judge for yourself: one cannot teach people mercy, sense, logic--teach -them to act consciously for tens and hundreds of years running with -impunity. And, in particular, to act consciously. One can become -merciless, lose all sensitiveness, get accustomed to blood and tears -and pain--for instance butchers, and some doctors and officers do, -but how can one renounce truth, after one has learnt to know it? In -my opinion it is impossible. I was taught from infancy not to torture -animals and be compassionate; all the books that I read told me the -same, and I am painfully sorry for all those that suffer at your cursed -war. But time passes, and I am beginning to get accustomed to all those -deaths, sufferings and all this blood; I feel that I am getting less -sensitive, less responsive in my everyday life and respond only to -great stimulants, but I cannot get accustomed to war; my brain refuses -to understand and explain a thing that is senseless in its basis. -Millions of people gather at one place and, giving their actions order -and regularity, kill each other, and it hurts everybody equally, and -all are unhappy--what is it if not madness?" My brother turned round -and looked at me inquiringly with his short-sighted, artless eyes. - -"The red laugh," said I merrily, splashing about. - -"I will tell you the truth," and my brother put his cold hand -trustingly on my shoulder, but quickly pulled it back, as if he was -frightened at its being naked and wet. "I will tell you the truth; I am -very much afraid of going mad. I cannot understand what is happening. -I cannot understand it, and it is dreadful. If only anybody could -explain it to me, but nobody can. You were at the front, you saw it -all--explain it to me." - -"Deuce take you," answered I jokingly, splashing about. - -"There, and you too," said my brother, sadly. "Nobody is capable of -helping me. It's dreadful. And I am beginning to lose all understanding -of what is permissible and what is not, what has sense and what is -senseless. If I were to seize you suddenly by the throat, at first -gently, as if caressing you, and then firmly, and strangle you, what -would that be?" - -"You are talking nonsense. Nobody does such things." - -My brother rubbed his cold hands, smiled softly, and continued,-- - -"When you were away there were nights when I did not sleep, could -not sleep, and strange ideas entered my head--to take a hatchet, for -instance, and go and kill everybody--mother, sister, the servants, our -dog. Of course they were only fancies, and I would never do so." - -"I should hope not," smiled I, splashing about. - -"Then, again, I am afraid of knives, of all that is sharp and shining; -it seems to me that if I were to take up a knife I should certainly -kill somebody with it. Now, is it not true--why should I not plunge it -into somebody, if it were sharp enough?" - -"The argument is sufficient. What a queer fellow you are, brother! Just -open the hot-water tap." - -My brother opened the tap, let in some hot water, and continued,-- - -"Then, again, I am afraid of crowds--of men, when many of them gather -together. When of an evening I hear a noise in the street--a loud -shout, for instance--I start and believe that ... a massacre has -begun. When several men stand together, and I cannot hear what they -are talking about, it seems to me that they will suddenly cry out, -fall upon each other, and blood will flow. And you know"--he bent -mysteriously towards my ear--"the papers are full of murders--strange -murders. It is all nonsense that there are as many brains as there -are men; mankind has only one intellect, and it is beginning to get -muddled. Just feel my head, how hot it is. It is on fire. And sometimes -it gets cold, and everything freezes in it, grows benumbed, and changes -into a terrible dead-like piece of ice. I must go mad; don't laugh, -brother, I must go mad. A quarter of an hour has passed, it's time for -you to get out of your bath." - -"A little bit more. Just a minute." - -It was so good to be sitting again in that bath and listening to -the well-known voice, without reflecting upon the words, and to see -all the familiar, simple and ordinary things around me: the brass, -slightly-green tap, the walls, with the familiar pattern, and all the -photographic outfit laid out in order upon the shelves. I would take up -photography again, take simple, peaceful landscapes and portraits of my -son walking, laughing and playing. One could do that without legs. And -I would take up my writing again--about clever books, the progress of -human thought, beauty, and peace. - -"Ho, ho, ho!" roared I, splashing about. - -"What is the matter with you?" asked my brother, growing pale and full -of fear. - -"Nothing. I am glad to be home." - -He smiled at me as one smiles at a child or on one younger than -oneself, although I was three years older than he, and grew thoughtful, -like a grown-up person or an old man who has great, burdensome old -thoughts. - -"Where can one fly to?" he asked, shrugging his shoulders. "Every day, -at about the same hour, the papers close the circuit, and all mankind -gets a shock. This simultaneousness of feelings, tears, thoughts, -sufferings and horror deprives me of all stay, and I am like a chip of -wood tossing about on the waves, or a bit of dust in a whirlwind. I am -forcibly torn away from all that is habitual, and there is one terrible -moment every morning, when I seem to hang in the air over the black -abyss of insanity. And I shall fall into it, I must fall into it. You -don't know all, brother. You don't read the papers, and much is held -back from you--you don't know all, brother." - -I took all his words for rather a gloomy joke--the usual attitude -towards all those who, being touched by insanity, have an inkling of -the insanity of war, and gave us a warning. I considered it as a joke, -as if I had forgotten for the moment, while I was splashing about in -the hot water, all that I had seen over there. "Well, let them hold -things back from me, but I must get out of the bath, anyway," said I -lightly, and my brother smiled and called my man, and together they -lifted me out of my bath and dressed me. Afterwards I had some fragrant -tea, which I drank out of my cut-glass tumbler, and said to myself -that life was worth living even without a pair of legs; and then they -wheeled me into the study up to my table and I prepared for work. - -Before the war I was on the staff of a journal, reviewing foreign -literature, and now, disposed within my reach, lay a heap of those -dear, sweet books in yellow, blue and brown covers. My joy was so -great, my delight so profound, that I could not make up my mind to -begin reading them, and I merely fingered the books, passing my hand -caressingly over them. I felt a smile spread over my face, most -probably a very silly smile, but I could not keep it back, as I -contemplated admiringly the type, the vignettes, the severe beautiful -simplicity of the drawings. How much thought and sense of beauty there -was in them all! How many people had to work and search, how much -talent and taste were needed to bring forth that letter, for instance, -so simple and elegant, so clever, harmonious and eloquent in its -interlaced lines. - -"And now I must set to work," said I, seriously, full of respect for -work. - -And I took up my pen to write the heading and, like a frog tied to a -string, my hand began plunging about the paper. The pen stuck into the -paper, scratched it, jerked about, slipped irresistibly aside, and -brought forth hideous lines, broken, crooked, devoid of all sense. And -I did not cry out or move, I grew cold and still as the approaching -terrible truth dawned upon me; while my hand danced over the brightly -illuminated paper, and each finger shook in such hopeless, living, -insane horror, as if they, those fingers, were still at the front and -saw the conflagrations and blood, and heard the groans and cries of -undescribable pain. They had detached themselves from me, those madly -quivering fingers, they were alive, they had become ears and eyes; and, -growing cold from horror, without the strength to move or cry out, I -watched their wild dance over the clean, bright white page. - -And all was quiet. They thought I was working, and had shut all the -doors, so as not to interrupt me by any sound--and I was alone in the -room, deprived of the power of moving, obediently watching my shaking -hands. - -"It is nothing," said I aloud, and in the stillness and loneliness of -the study my voice sounded hollow and nasty like the voice of a madman. -"It is nothing. I will dictate. Why, Milton was blind when he wrote his -_Paradise Regained_. I can think, and that is the chief thing, in fact -it is all." - -And I began inventing a long clever phrase about the blind Milton, but -the words got confused, fell away as out of a rotten printing frame, -and when I came to the end of the phrase I had forgotten the beginning. -Then I tried to remember what made me begin, and why I was inventing -that strange senseless phrase about Milton, and could not. - -"_Paradise Regained, Paradise Regained_," I repeated, and could not -understand what it meant. - -And then I saw that I often forgot very many things, that I had become -strangely absent-minded, and confused familiar faces; that I forgot -words even in a simple conversation, and sometimes, remembering a word, -I could not understand its meaning. And I clearly pictured to myself my -daily existence. A strange short day, cut off like my legs, with empty -mysterious spaces, long hours of unconsciousness or apathy, about which -I could remember nothing. - -I wanted to call my wife, but could not remember her name--and this did -not surprise or frighten me. Softly I whispered,-- - -"Wife!" - -The incoherent, unusual word sounded softly and died away without -bringing any response. And all was quiet. They were afraid of -disturbing me at my work by any careless sound, and all was quiet--a -perfect study for a savant--cosy, quiet, disposing one to meditation -and creative energy. "Dear ones, how solicitous they are of me!" I -thought tenderly. - -... And inspiration, sacred inspiration, came to me. The sun burst -forth in my head, and its burning creative rays darted over the whole -world, dropping flowers and songs--flowers and songs. And I wrote on -through the whole night, feeling no exhaustion, but soaring freely -on the wings of mighty, sacred inspiration. I was writing something -great--something immortal--flowers and songs--flowers and songs.... - - - - -PART II - - -FRAGMENT X - -... Happily he died last week on Friday. I say "happily," and repeat -that my brother's death was a great blessing to him. A cripple with -no legs, palsied, with a smitten soul, he was terrible and piteous in -his senseless creative ecstasy. Ever since that night he wrote for -two months, without leaving his chair, refusing all food, weeping and -scolding whenever we wheeled him away from his table even for a short -time. He moved his dry pen over the paper with wonderful rapidity, -throwing aside page after page, and kept on writing and writing. Sleep -deserted him, and only twice did we succeed in putting him to bed for -a few hours, thanks to a strong narcotic, but, later, even a narcotic -was powerless to conquer his senseless creative ecstasy. At his order -the curtains were kept drawn over all the windows the whole day long -and the lamp was allowed to burn, giving the illusion of night, while -he wrote on, smoking one cigarette after another. Apparently he was -happy, and I never happened to meet any healthy person with such an -inspired face--the face of a prophet or of a great poet. He became -extremely emaciated, with the waxen transparency of a corpse or of an -ascetic, and his hair grew quite grey; he began his senseless work -a comparatively young man, but finished it an old one. Sometimes he -hurried on his work, writing more than usual, and his pen would stick -into the pages and break, but he never noticed it; at such times one -durst not touch him, for at the slightest contact he was overtaken -by fits of tears and laughter; but sometimes, very rarely, he rested -blissfully from his work and talked to me affably, each time asking the -same questions: Who was I, what was my name, and since when had I taken -up literature. - -And then he would condescendingly tell, always using the same words, -what an absurd fright he had had at the thought that he had lost his -memory and was incapable of work, and how splendidly he had refuted the -insane supposition there and then by beginning his great immortal work -about the flowers and songs. - -"Of course I do not count upon being recognised by my contemporaries," -he would say proudly and unassumingly at the same time, putting his -trembling hand on the heap of empty sheets, "but the future--the -future--will understand my idea." - -He never once remembered the war or his wife and son; the mirage of -his endless work engrossed his attention so undividedly that it is -doubtful whether he was conscious of anything else. One could walk -and talk in his presence--he noticed nothing, and not for an instant -did his face lose its expression of terrible tension and inspiration. -In the stillness of the night, when everybody was asleep and he alone -wove untiringly the endless thread of insanity, he seemed terrible, -and only his mother and I ventured to approach him. Once I tried to -give him a pencil instead of his dry pen, thinking that perhaps he -really wrote something, but on the paper there remained only hideous -lines, broken, crooked, devoid of any sense. And he died in the night -at his work. I knew my brother well, and his insanity did not come as -a surprise to me: the passionate dream of work that filled all his -letters from the war and was the stay of his life after his return, had -to come into inevitable collision with the impotence of his exhausted, -tortured brain, and bring about the catastrophe. And I believe that -I have succeeded in reconstructing with sufficient accuracy the -successive feelings that brought him to the end during that fatal -night. Generally speaking, all that I have written down concerning the -war is founded upon the words of my dead brother, often very confused -and incoherent; only a few separate episodes were burnt into his brain -so deeply and indelibly that I could cite the very words that he used -in telling me them. I loved him, and his death weighs upon me like -a stone, oppressing my brain by its senselessness. It has added one -more loop to the incomprehensible that envelops my head like a web, -and has drawn it tight. The whole family has left for the country on a -visit to some relatives, and I am alone in the house--the house that -my brother loved so. The servants have been paid off, and only the -porter from the next door comes every morning to light the fires, while -the rest of the time I am alone, and resemble a fly caught between -two window-frames,[1] plunging about and knocking myself against a -transparent but insurmountable obstacle. And I feel, I know, that I -shall never leave the house. Now, when I am alone, the war possesses -me wholly and stands before me like an inscrutable mystery, like a -terrible spirit, to which I can give no form. I give it all sorts of -shapes: of a headless skeleton on horseback, of a shapeless shadow, -born in a black thundercloud, mutely enveloping the earth, but not one -of them can give me an answer and extinguish the cold, constant, blunt -horror that possesses me. - - [1] In Russia the windows have double panes during the winter - for the purpose of keeping out the cold.--_Trans._ - -I do not understand war, and I must go mad, like my brother, like -the hundreds of men that are sent back from there. And this does not -terrify me. The loss of reason seems to me honourable, like the death -of a sentry at his post. But the expectancy, the slow and infallible -approach of madness, the instantaneous feeling of something enormous -falling into an abyss, the unbearable pain of tortured thought.... My -heart has grown benumbed, it is dead, and there is no new life for it, -but thought--is still alive, still struggling, once mighty as Samson, -but now helpless and weak as a child, and--I am sorry for my poor -thought. There are moments when I cannot endure the torture of those -iron clasps that are compressing my brain; I feel an irrepressible -longing to run out into the street, into the marketplace, where there -are people and cry out,-- - -"Stop the war this instant--or else...." - -But what "else" is there? Are there any words that can make them come -to their senses? Words, in answer to which one cannot find just such -other loud and lying words? Or must I fall upon my knees before them -and burst into tears? But then, hundreds of thousands are making the -earth resound with their weeping, but does that change anything? Or, -perhaps, kill myself before them all? Kill myself. Thousands are dying -every day, but does that change anything? - -And when I feel my impotence, I am seized with rage--the rage of war, -which I hate. Like the doctor, I long to burn down their houses with -all their treasures, their wives and children; to poison the water -which they drink; to raise all the killed from their graves and throw -the corpses into their unclean houses on to their beds. Let them sleep -with them as with their wives or mistresses! - -Oh, if only I were the Devil! I would transplant all the horrors that -hell exhales on to their earth. I would become the lord of all their -dreams, and, when they cross their children with a smile before falling -asleep, I would rise up before them a black vision.... Yes, I must go -mad--only let it come quicker--let it come quicker.... - - -FRAGMENT XI - -... Prisoners, a group of trembling, terrified men. When they were led -out of the train the crowd gave a roar--the roar of an enormous savage -dog, whose chain is too short and not strong enough. The crowd gave a -roar and was silent, breathing deeply, while they advanced in a compact -group with their hands in their pockets, smiling with their white lips -as if currying favour, and stepping out in such a manner as if somebody -was just going to strike them with a long stick under their knees from -behind. But one of them walked at a short distance from the others, -calm, serious, without a smile, and when my eyes met his black ones I -saw bare open hatred in them. I saw clearly that he despised me and -thought me capable of anything; if I were to begin killing him, unarmed -as he was, he would not have cried out or tried to defend or right -himself--he considered me capable of anything. - -I ran along together with the crowd, to meet his gaze once more, and -only succeeded as they were entering a house. He went in the last, -letting his companions pass before him, and glanced at me once more. -And then I saw such pain, such an abyss of horror and insanity in his -big black eyes, as if I had looked into the most wretched soul on earth. - -"Who is that with the eyes?" I asked of a soldier of the escort. - -"An officer--a madman. There are many such." - -"What is his name?" - -"He does not say. And his countrymen don't know him. A stranger they -picked up. He has been saved from hanging himself once already, but -what is there to be done!" ... and the soldier made a vague gesture and -disappeared in the door. - -And now, this evening I am thinking of him. He is alone amidst the -enemy, who, in his opinion, are capable of doing anything with him, and -his own people do not know him. He keeps silence and waits patiently -for the moment when he will be able to go out of this world altogether. -I do not believe that he is mad, and he is no coward; he was the -only one who held himself with dignity in that group of trembling, -terrified men, whom apparently he does not regard as his own people. -What is he thinking about? What a depth of despair must be in the -soul of that man, who, dying, does not wish to name himself. Why give -his name? He has done with life and men, he has grasped their real -value and notices none around him, either his own people or strangers, -shout, rage and threaten as they will. I made inquiries about him. He -was taken in the last terrible battle, during which several tens of -thousands of men lost their lives, and he showed no resistance when he -was being taken prisoner; he was unarmed for some reason or other, and, -when the soldier, not having noticed it, struck him with his sword, he -did not get up or try to act in self-defence. But the wound, unhappily -for him, was a slight one. - -But, maybe, he is really mad? The soldier said there were many such.... - - -FRAGMENT XII - -... It is beginning. When I entered my brother's study yesterday -evening he was sitting in his armchair at his table heaped with books. -The hallucination disappeared the moment I lighted a candle, but for -a long time I could not bring myself to sit down in the armchair that -he had occupied. At first it was terrifying--the empty rooms in which -one was constantly hearing rustlings and crackings were the cause of -this dread, but afterwards I even liked it--better he than somebody -else. Nevertheless, I did not leave the armchair the whole evening; -it seemed to me that if I were to get up he would instantly sit down -in my place. And I left the room very quickly without looking round. -The lamps ought to have been lit in all the rooms, but was it worth -while? It would have been perhaps worse if I had seen anything by -lamp-light--as it was, there was still room for doubt. - -To-day I entered with a candle and there was nobody in the armchair. -Evidently it must have been only a shadow. Again I went to the -station--I go there every morning now--and saw a whole carriage full of -our mad soldiers. It was not opened, but shunted on to another line, -and I had time to see several faces through the windows. They were -terrible, especially one. Fearfully drawn, the colour of a lemon, with -an open black mouth and fixed eyes, it was so like a mask of horror -that I could not tear my eyes away from it. And it stared at me, the -whole of it, and was motionless, and glided past together with the -moving carriage, just as motionless, without the slightest change, -never transferring its gaze for an instant. If it were to appear before -me this minute in that dark door, I do not believe I should be able to -hold out. I made inquiries: there were twenty-two men. The infection is -spreading. The papers are hushing up something and, I believe, there -is something wrong in our town too. Black, closely-shut carriages have -made their appearance--I counted six during one day in different parts -of the town. I suppose I shall also go off in one of them one of these -days. - -And the papers clamour for fresh troops and more blood every day, and I -am beginning to understand less and less what it all means. Yesterday I -read an article full of suspicion, stating that there were many spies -and traitors amongst the people, warning us to be cautious and mindful, -and that the wrath of the people would not fail to find out the guilty. -What guilty, and guilty of what? As I was returning from the station in -the tram, I heard a strange conversation, I suppose in reference to the -same article. - -"They ought to be all hung without any trial," said one, looking -scrutinisingly at me and all the passengers. "Traitors ought to be -hung, yes." - -"Without any mercy," confirmed the other. "They've been shown mercy -enough!" - -I jumped out of the tram. The war was making everybody shed tears, and -they were crying too--why, what did it mean? A bloody mist seemed to -have enveloped the earth, hiding it from our gaze, and I was beginning -to think that the moment of the universal catastrophe was approaching. -The red laugh that my brother saw. The madness was coming from over -there, from those bloody burnt-out fields, and I felt its cold breath -in the air. I am a strong man and have none of those illnesses that -corrupt the body, bringing in their train the corruption of the brain -also, but I see the infection catching me, and half of my thoughts -belong to me no longer. It is worse than the plague and its horrors. -One can hide from the plague, take measures, but how can one hide from -all-penetrating thought, that knows neither distances nor obstacles? - -In the daytime I can still fight against it, but during the night I -become, as everybody else does, the slave of my dreams--and my dreams -are terrible and full of madness.... - - -FRAGMENT XIII - -... Universal mob-fights, senseless and sanguinary. The slightest -provocation gives rise to the most savage club-law, knives, stones, -logs of wood coming into action, and it is all the same who is being -killed--red blood asks to be let loose, and flows willingly and -plentifully. - -There were six of them, all peasants, and they were being led by three -soldiers with loaded guns. In their quaint peasant's dress, simple -and primitive like a savage's, with their quaint countenances, that -seemed as if made of clay and adorned with felted wool instead of -hair, in the streets of a rich town, under the escort of disciplined -soldiers--they resembled slaves of the antique world. They were being -led off to the war, and they moved along in obedience to the bayonets -as innocent and dull as cattle led to the slaughter-house. In front -walked a youth, tall, beardless, with a long goose neck, at the end of -which was a motionless little head. His whole body was bent forward -like a switch, and he stared at the ground under his feet so fixedly -as if his gaze penetrated into the very depths of the earth. The last -in the group was a man of small stature, bearded and middle-aged; he -had no desire of resistance, and there was no thought in his eyes, but -the earth attracted his feet, gripped them tightly, not letting them -loose, and he advanced with his body thrown back, as if struggling -against a strong wind. And at each step the soldier gave him a push -with the butt-end of his rifle, and one leg, tearing itself from the -earth, convulsively thrust itself forward, while the other still stuck -tightly. The faces of the soldiers were weary and angry, and evidently -they had been marching so for a long time; one felt they were tired and -indifferent as to how they carried their guns and how they marched, -keeping no step, with their feet turned in like countrymen. The -senseless, lingering and silent resistance of the peasants seemed to -have dimmed their disciplined brains, and they had ceased to understand -where they were going and what their goal was. - -"Where are you leading them to?" I asked of one of the soldiers. He -started, glanced at me, and in the keen flash of his eyes I felt the -bayonet as distinctly as if it were already at my breast. - -"Go away!" said the soldier; "go away, or else...." - -The middle-aged man took advantage of the moment and ran away; he ran -with a light trot up to the iron railings of the boulevard and sat -down on his heels, as if he were hiding. No animal would have acted so -stupidly, so senselessly. But the soldier became savage. I saw him go -close up to him, stoop down and, thrusting his gun into the left hand, -strike something soft and flat with the right one. And then again. A -crowd was gathering. Laughter and shouts were heard.... - - -FRAGMENT XIV - -... In the eleventh row of stalls. Somebody's arms were pressing -closely against me on my right- and left-hand side, while far around me -in the semi-darkness stuck out motionless heads, tinged with red from -the lights upon the stage. And gradually the mass of people, confined -in that narrow space, filled me with horror. Everybody was silent, -listening to what was being said on the stage or, perhaps, thinking -out his own thoughts, but as they were many, they were more audible, -for all their silence, than the loud voices of the actors. They were -coughing, blowing their noses, making a noise with their feet and -clothes, and I could distinctly hear their deep, uneven breathing, -that was heating the air. They were terrible, for each of them could -become a corpse, and they all had senseless brains. In the calmness of -those well-brushed heads, resting upon white, stiff collars, I felt a -hurricane of madness ready to burst every second. - -My hands grew cold as I thought how many and how terrible they were, -and how far away I was from the entrance. They were calm, but what -if I were to cry out "Fire!" ... And full of terror, I experienced -a painfully passionate desire, of which I cannot think without -my hands growing cold and moist. Who could hinder me from crying -out--yes, standing up, turning round and crying out: "Fire! Save -yourselves--fire!" - -A convulsive wave of madness would overwhelm their still limbs. They -would jump up, yelling and howling like animals; they would forget that -they had wives, sisters, mothers, and would begin casting themselves -about like men stricken with sudden blindness, in their madness -throttling each other with their white fingers fragrant with scent. -The lights would be turned on, and somebody with an ashen face would -appear upon the stage, shouting that all was in order and that there -was no fire, and the music, trembling and halting, would begin playing -something wildly merry--but they would be deaf to everything--they -would be throttling, trampling, and beating the heads of the women, -demolishing their ingenious, cunning head-dresses. They would tear -at each other's ears, bite off each other's noses, and tear the very -clothes off each other's bodies, feeling no shame, for they would be -mad. Their sensitive, delicate, beautiful, adorable women would scream -and writhe helplessly at their feet, clasping their knees, still -believing in their generosity--while they would beat them viciously -upon their beautiful upturned faces, trying to force their way towards -the entrance. For men are always murderers, and their calmness and -generosity is the calmness of a well-fed animal, that knows itself out -of danger. - -And when, having made corpses of half their number, they would gather -at the entrance in a trembling, tattered group of shamefaced animals, -with a false smile upon their lips, I would go on to the stage and say -with a laugh,-- - -"It has all happened because you killed my brother." Yes, I would say -with a laugh: "It has all happened because you killed my brother." - -I must have whispered something aloud, for my neighbour on the -right-hand side moved angrily in his chair and said,-- - -"Hush! You are interrupting." - -I felt merry and wanted to play a joke. Assuming a warning severe -expression, I stooped towards him. - -"What is it?" he asked suspiciously. "Why do you look at me so?" - -"Hush, I implore you," whispered I with my lips. "Do you not perceive a -smell of burning? There is a fire in the theatre." - -He had enough power of will and good sense not to cry out. His face -grew pale, his eyes starting out of their sockets and almost protruding -over his cheeks, enormous as bladders, but he did not cry out. He rose -quietly and, without even thanking me, walked totteringly towards the -entrance, convulsively keeping back his steps. He was afraid of the -others guessing about the fire and preventing him getting away--him, -the only one worthy of being saved. - -I felt disgusted and left the theatre also; besides I did not want to -make known my _incognito_ too soon. In the street I looked towards that -part of the sky where the war was raging; everything was calm, and -the night clouds, yellow from the lights of the town, were slowly and -calmly drifting past. - -"Perhaps it is only a dream, and there is no war?" thought I, deceived -by the stillness of the sky and town. - -But a boy sprang out from behind a corner, crying joyously,-- - -"A terrible battle. Enormous losses. Buy a list of telegrams--night -telegrams!" - -I read it by the light of the street lamp. Four thousand dead. In the -theatre, I should say, there were not more than one thousand. And the -whole way home I kept repeating--"Four thousand dead." - -Now I am afraid of returning to my empty house. When I put my key into -the lock and look at the dumb, flat door, I can feel all its dark -empty rooms behind it, which, however, the next minute, a man in a -hat would pass through, looking furtively around him. I know the way -well, but on the stairs I begin lighting match after match, until I -find a candle. I never enter my brother's study, and it is locked with -all that it contains. And I sleep in the dining-room, whither I have -shifted altogether: there I feel calmer, for the air seems to have -still retained the traces of talking and laughter and the merry clang -of dishes. Sometimes I distinctly hear the scraping of a dry pen--and -when I lay down on my bed.... - - -FRAGMENT XV - -... That absurd and terrible dream. It seemed as if the skull had been -taken off my brain and, bared and unprotected, it submissively and -greedily imbibed all the horrors of those bloody and senseless days. -I was lying curled up, occupying only five feet of space, while my -thought embraced the whole world. I saw with the eyes of all mankind, -and listened with its ears; I died with the killed, sorrowed and wept -with all that were wounded and left behind, and, when blood flowed out -of anybody's body, I felt the pain of the wound and suffered. Even all -that had not happened and was far away, I saw as clearly as if it had -happened and was close by, and there was no end to the sufferings of my -bared brain. - -Those children, those innocent little children. I saw them in the -street playing at war and chasing each other, and one of them was -already crying in a high-pitched, childish voice--and something shrank -within me from horror and disgust. And I went home; night came on--and -in fiery dreams, resembling midnight conflagrations, those innocent -little children changed into a band of child-murderers. - -Something was ominously burning in a broad red glare, and in the smoke -there swarmed monstrous, misshapen children, with heads of grown-up -murderers. They were jumping lightly and nimbly, like young goats at -play, and were breathing with difficulty, like sick people. Their -mouths, resembling the jaws of toads or frogs, opened widely and -convulsively; behind the transparent skin of their naked bodies the -red blood was coursing angrily--and they were killing each other at -play. They were the most terrible of all that I had seen, for they were -little and could penetrate everywhere. - -I was looking out of the window and one of the little ones noticed me, -smiled, and with his eyes asked me to let him in. - -"I want to go to you," he said. - -"You will kill me." - -"I want to go to you," he said, growing suddenly pale, and began -scrambling up the white wall like a rat--just like a hungry rat. He -kept losing his footing, and squealed and darted about the wall with -such rapidity, that I could not follow his impetuous, sudden movements. - -"He can crawl in under the door," said I to myself with horror, and -as if he had guessed my thought, he grew thin and long and, waving -the end of his tail rapidly, he crawled into the dark crack under the -front door. But I had time to hide myself under the blanket, and heard -him searching for me in the dark rooms, cautiously stepping along with -his tiny bare feet. He approached my room very slowly, stopping now -and then, and at last entered it; but I did not hear any sound, either -rustle or movement for a long time, as if there was nobody near my -bed. And then somebody's little hand began lifting up the edge of the -coverlet, and I could feel the cold air of the room upon my face and -chest. I held the blanket tightly, but it persisted in lifting itself -up on all sides; and all of a sudden my feet became so cold, as if I -had dipped them into water. Now they were lying unprotected in the -chill darkness of the room, and he was looking at them. - -In the yard, behind the house, a dog barked and was silent, and I heard -the trail of its chain as it went into its kennel. But he still watched -my naked feet and kept silence; I knew he was there by the unendurable -horror that was binding me like death with a stony, sepulchral -immobility. If I could have cried out, I would have awakened the whole -town, the whole world, but my voice was dead within me, and I lay -submissive and motionless, feeling the little cold hands moving over my -body and nearing my throat. - -"I cannot!" I groaned, gasping and, waking up for an instant, I saw -the vigilant darkness of the night, mysterious and living, and again I -believe I fell asleep.... - -"Don't fear," said my brother, sitting down upon my bed, and the bed -creaked, so heavy he was dead. "Never fear, you see it is a dream. You -only imagine that you were being strangled, while in reality you are -asleep in the dark rooms, where there is not a soul, and I am in my -study writing. Nobody understood what I wrote about, and you derided me -as one insane, but now I will tell you the truth. I am writing about -the red laugh. Do you see it?" - -Something enormous, red and bloody, was standing before me, laughing a -toothless laugh. - -"That is the red laugh. When the earth goes mad, it begins to laugh -like that. You know, the earth has gone mad. There are no more flowers -or songs on it; it has become round, smooth and red like a scalped -head. Do you see it?" - -"Yes, I see it. It is laughing." - -"Look what its brain is like. It is red, like bloody porridge, and is -muddled." - -"It is crying out." - -"It is in pain. It has no flowers or songs. And now--let me lie down -upon you." - -"You are heavy and I am afraid." - -"We, the dead, lie down on the living. Do you feel warm?" - -"Yes." - -"Are you comfortable?" - -"I am dying." - -"Awake and cry out. Awake and cry out. I am going away....." - - -FRAGMENT XVI - -.....To-day is the eighth day of the battle. It began last Friday, -and Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday have -passed--and Friday has come again and is gone--and it is still going -on. Both armies, hundreds of thousands of men, are standing in front of -each other, never flinching, sending explosive, crashing projectiles -without stopping, and every instant living men are turned into corpses. -The roar and incessant vibration of the air has made the very sky -shudder and gather black thunderclouds above their heads,--while they -continue to stand in front of each other, never flinching and still -killing each other. If a man does not sleep for three nights, he -becomes ill and loses his memory, but they have not slept for a whole -week and are all mad. That is why they feel no pain, do not retreat, -and go on fighting until they have killed all to the last man. They say -that some of the detachments came to the end of their ammunition, but -still they fought on, using their fists and stones, and biting at each -other like dogs. If the remnants of those regiments return home, they -will have canine teeth like wolves--but they will not return, they have -gone mad and die, every man of them. They have gone mad. Everything is -muddled in their heads, and they cease to understand anything! If they -were to be turned round suddenly and sharply, they would begin firing -at their own men, thinking that they were firing at the enemy. - -Strange rumours--strange rumours that are told in a whisper, those -repeating them turning white from horror and dreadful forebodings. -Brother, brother, listen what is being told of the red laugh! They -say phantom regiments have appeared, large bands of shadows, the -exact copy of living men. At night, when the men forget themselves -for an instant in sleep, or in the thick of the day's fight, when the -bright day itself seems a phantom, they suddenly appear, firing out of -phantom guns, filling the air with phantom noises; and men, living but -insane men, astounded by the suddenness of the attack, fight to the -death against the phantom enemy, go mad from horror, become grey in an -instant and die. The phantoms disappear as suddenly as they appear, -and all becomes still, while the earth is strewn with fresh mutilated -bodies. Who killed them? You know, brother, who killed them. When -there is a lull between two battles and the enemy is far off, suddenly -in the darkness of the night there resounds a solitary, frightened -shot. And all jump up and begin firing into the darkness, into the -silent dumb darkness, for a long time, for whole hours. Whom do they -see there? Whose terrible, silent shape, full of horror and madness -appears before them? You know, brother, and I know, but men do not know -yet, but they have a foreboding, and ask, turning pale: "Why are there -so many madmen? Before there never used to be so many." - -"Before there never used to be so many madmen," they say, turning pale, -trying to believe that now it is as before, and that the universal -violence done to the brains of humanity would have no effect upon their -weak little intellects. - -"Why, men fought before and always have fought, and nothing of the sort -happened. Strife is a law of nature," they say with conviction and -calmness, growing pale, nevertheless, seeking for the doctor with their -eyes, and calling out hurriedly: "Water, quick, a glass of water!" - -They would willingly become idiots, those people, only not to feel -their intellect reeling and their reason succumbing in the hopeless -combat with insanity. - -In those days, when men over there were constantly being turned -into corpses, I could find no peace, and sought the society of my -fellow-men; and I heard many conversations and saw many false smiling -faces, that asserted that the war was far off and in no way concerned -them. But much oftener I met naked, frank horror, hopeless, bitter -tears and frenzied cries of despair, when the great Mind itself cried -out of man its last prayer, its last curse, with all the intensity of -its power,-- - -"Whenever will the senseless carnage end?" - -At some friends', whom I had not seen for a long time, perhaps several -years, I unexpectedly met a mad officer, invalided from the war. He was -a schoolfellow of mine, but I did not recognise him: if he had lain -for a year in his grave, he would have returned more like himself than -he was then. His hair was grey and his face quite white, his features -were but little changed,--but he was always silent, and seemed to -be listening to something, and this stamped upon his face a look of -such formidable remoteness, such indifference to all around him, that -it was fearful to talk to him. His relatives were told he went mad -in the following circumstances: they were in the reserve, while the -neighbouring regiment was ordered to make a bayonet charge. The men -rushed shouting "Hurrah" so loudly as almost to drown the noise of the -cannon,--and suddenly the guns ceased firing, the "Hurrah" ceased also, -and a sepulchral stillness ensued: they had run up to the enemy and -were charging him with their bayonets. And his reason succumbed to that -stillness. - -Now he is calm when people make a noise around him, talk and shout, he -listens and waits, but if only there is a moment's silence, he catches -hold of his head, rushes up to the wall or against the furniture, and -falls down in a fit resembling epilepsy. He has many relations, and -they take turns and surround him with sound, but there remain the -nights, long solitary nights--but here his father, a grey-haired old -man, slightly wandering in his mind too, helped. He hung the walls -of his son's room with loudly ticking clocks, that constantly struck -the hour at different times, and at present he is arranging a wheel, -resembling an incessantly-going rattle. None of them lose hope that he -will recover, as he is only twenty-seven, and their house is even gay. -He is dressed very cleanly--not in his uniform--great care is taken -of his appearance and he is even handsome with his white hair, young, -thoughtful face and well-bred, slow, tired movements. - -When I was told all, I went up and kissed his hand, his white languid -hand, which will never more be lifted for a blow--and this did not seem -to surprise anybody very much. Only his young sister smiled at me with -her eyes, and afterwards showed me such attention that it seemed as if -I were her betrothed and she loved me more than anybody in the world. -She showed me such attention that I very nearly told her about my dark -empty rooms, in which I am worse than alone--miserable heart, that -never loses hope.... And she managed that we remained alone. - -"How pale you are and what dark rings you have under your eyes," she -said kindly. "Are you ill? Are you grieving for your brother?" - -"I am grieving for everybody. And I do not feel well." - -"I know why you kissed my brother's hand. They did not understand. -Because he is mad, yes?" - -"Yes, because he is mad." - -She grew thoughtful and looked very much like her brother, only younger. - -"And will you," she stopped and blushed, but did not lower her eyes, -"will you let me kiss your hand?" - -I kneeled before her and said: "Bless me." - -She paled slightly, drew back and whispered with her lips,-- - -"I do not believe." - -"And I also." - -For an instant her hand touched my head, and the instant was gone. - -"Do you know," she said, "I am leaving for the war." - -"Go? But you will not be able to bear it." - -"I do not know. But they need help, the same as you or my brother. It -is not their fault. Will you remember me?" - -"Yes. And you?" - -"And I will remember you too. Good-bye!" - -"Good-bye for ever!" - -And I grew calm and felt happier, as if I had passed through the most -terrible that there is in death and madness. And yesterday, for the -first time, I entered my house calmly without any fear, and opened my -brother's study and sat for a long time at his table. And when in the -night I suddenly awoke as if from a push, and heard the scraping of -the dry pen upon the paper, I was not frightened, but thought to myself -almost with a smile,-- - -"Work on, brother, work on! Your pen is not dry, it is steeped in -living human blood. Let your paper seem empty--in its ominous emptiness -it is more eloquent of war and reason than all that is written by the -most clever men. Work on, brother, work on!" - -... And this morning I read that the battle is still raging, and again -I was possessed with a dread fear and a feeling of something falling -upon my brain. It is coming, it is near; it is already standing upon -the threshold of these empty, light rooms. Remember, remember me, dear -girl; I am going mad. Thirty thousand dead, thirty thousand dead!... - - -FRAGMENT XVII - -... A fight is going on in the town. There are dark and fearful -rumours.... - - -FRAGMENT XVIII - -This morning, looking through the endless list of killed in the -newspaper, I saw a familiar name; my sister's affianced husband, -an officer called for military service at the same time as my dead -brother, was killed. And, an hour later, the postman handed me a -letter addressed to my brother, and I recognised the handwriting of the -deceased on the envelope: the dead was writing to the dead. But still -it was better so than the dead writing to the living. A mother was -pointed out to me who kept receiving letters from her son for a whole -month after she had read of his terrible death in the papers: he had -been torn to pieces by a shell. He was a fond son, and each letter was -full of endearing and encouraging words and youthful, naïve hopes of -happiness. He was dead, but wrote of life with a fearful accuracy every -day, and the mother ceased to believe in his death; and when a day -passed without any letter, then a second and a third, and the endless -silence of death ensued, she took a large old-fashioned revolver -belonging to her son in both hands, and shot herself in the breast. I -believe she survived, but I am not sure; I never heard. - -I looked at the envelope for a long time, and thought: He held it -in his hands, he bought it somewhere, he gave the money to pay for -it, and his servant went to fetch it from some shop; he sealed and -perhaps posted it himself. Then the wheel of the complex machine called -"post" came into action, and the letter glided past forest, fields -and towns, passing from hand to hand, but rushing infallibly towards -its destination. He put on his boots that last morning, while it went -gliding on; he was killed, but it glided on; he was thrown into a pit -and covered up with dead bodies and earth, while it still glided on -past forests, fields and towns, a living phantom in a grey, stamped -envelope. And now I was holding it in my hands. - -Here are the contents of the letter. It was written with a pencil on -scraps of paper, and was not finished: something interfered. - -"... Only now do I understand the great joy of war, the ancient, -primitive delight of killing man--clever, scheming, artful man, -immeasurably more interesting than the most ravenous animal. To be -ever taking life is as good as playing at lawn-tennis with planets -and stars. Poor friend, what a pity you are not with us, but are -constrained to weary away your time amidst an unleavened daily -existence! In the atmosphere of death you would have found all that -your restless, noble heart yearned for. A bloody feast--what truth -there is in this somewhat hackneyed comparison! We go about up to our -knees in blood, and this red wine, as my jolly men call it in jest, -makes our heads swim. To drink the blood of one's enemy is not at all -such a stupid custom as we think: they knew what they were doing.... - -"... The crows are cawing. Do you hear, the crows are cawing. From -whence have they all gathered? The sky is black with them; they settle -down beside us, having lost all fear, and follow us everywhere; and -we are always underneath them, like under a black lace sunshade or a -moving tree with black leaves. One of them approached quite close to my -face and wanted to peck at it: he thought, most probably, that I was -dead. The crows are cawing, and this troubles me a little. From whence -have they all gathered?... - -"... Yesterday we stabbed them all sleeping. We approached stealthily, -scarcely touching the ground with our feet, as if we were stalking wild -ducks. We stole up to them so skilfully and cautiously that we did not -touch a corpse and did not scare one single crow. We stole up like -shadows, and the night hid us. I killed the sentry myself--knocked him -down and strangled him with my hands, so as not to let him cry out. You -understand: the slightest sound, and all would have been lost. But he -did not cry out; he had no time, I believe, even to guess that he was -being killed. - -"They were all sleeping around the smouldering fires--sleeping -peacefully, as if they were at home in their beds. We hacked about -us for more than an hour, and only a few had time to awake before -they received their death-blow. They howled, and of course begged for -mercy. They used their teeth. One bit off a finger on my left hand, -with which I was incautiously holding his head. He bit off my finger, -but I twisted his head clean off: how do you think--are we quits? How -they did not all wake up I cannot imagine. One could hear their bones -crackling and their bodies being hacked. Afterwards we stripped all -naked and divided their clothes amongst ourselves. My friend, don't get -angry over a joke. With your susceptibility you will say this savours -of marauding, but then we are almost naked ourselves; our clothes are -quite worn-out. I have been wearing a woman's jacket for a long time, -and resemble more a ... than an officer of a victorious army. By the -bye, you are, I believe, married, and it is not quite right for you -to read such things. But ... you understand? Women. D--n it, I am -young, and thirst for love! Stop a minute: I believe it was you who -was engaged to be married? It was you, was it not, who showed me the -portrait of a young girl and told me she was your promised bride?--and -there was something sad, something very sad and mournful underneath -it. And you cried. That was a long time ago, and I remember it but -confusedly; there is no time for softness at war. And you cried. What -did you cry about? What was there written that was as sad and mournful -as a drooping flower? And you kept crying and crying.... Were you not -ashamed, an officer, to cry? - -"... The crows are cawing. Do you hear, friend, the crows are cawing. -What do they want?" - -Further on the pencil-written lines were effaced and it was impossible -to decipher the signature. And strange to say the dead man called forth -no compassion in me. I distinctly pictured to myself his face, in which -all was soft and delicate as a woman's: the colour of his cheeks, -the clearness and morning freshness of the eyes, the beard so bushy -and soft, that a woman could almost have adorned herself with it. He -liked books, flowers and music, feared all that was coarse, and wrote -poetry,--my brother, as a critic, declared that he wrote very good -poetry. And I could not connect all that I knew and remembered of him -with the cawing crows, bloody carnage and death. - -... The crows are cawing.... - -And suddenly for one mad, unutterably happy instant, I clearly saw -that all was a lie and that there was no war. There were no killed, -no corpses, there was no anguish of reeling, helpless thought. I was -sleeping on my back and seeing a dream, as I used to in my childhood: -the silent dread rooms, devastated by death and terror, and myself with -a wild letter in my hand. My brother was living, and they were all -sitting at the tea-table, and I could hear the noise of the crockery. - -... The crows are cawing.... - -No, it is but true. Unhappy earth, it is true. The crows are cawing. -It is not the invention of an idle scribbler, aiming at cheap effects, -or of a madman, who has lost his senses. The crows are cawing. Where -is my brother? He was noble-hearted and gentle and wished no one evil. -Where is he? I am asking you, you cursed murderers. I am asking you, -you cursed murderers, crows sitting on carrion, wretched, imbecile -animals, before the whole world. For you are animals. What did you kill -my brother for? If you had a face, I would give you a blow upon it, but -you have no face, you have only the snout of a wild beast. You pretend -that you are men, but I see claws under your gloves and the flat skull -of an animal under your hat; hidden beneath your clever conversation I -hear insanity rattling its rusty chains. And with all the power of my -grief, my anguish and dishonoured thought--I curse you, you wretched, -imbecile animals! - - -FRAGMENT THE LAST - -"... We look to you for the regeneration of human life!" - -So shouted a speaker, holding on with difficulty to a small pillar, -balancing himself with his arm, and waving a flag with a large -inscription half-hidden in its folds: "Down with the war!" - -"You, who are young, you, whose lives are only just beginning, save -yourselves and the future generations from this horror, from this -madness. It is unbearable, our eyes are drowned with blood. The sky -is falling upon us, the earth is giving way under our feet. Kind -people...." - -The crowd was buzzing enigmatically and the voice of the speaker was -drowned at times in the living threatening noise. - -"... Suppose I am mad, but I am speaking the truth. My father and -brother are rotting over there like carrion. Make bonfires, dig pits -and destroy, bury all your arms. Demolish all the barracks, and strip -all the men of their bright clothes of madness, tear them off. One -cannot bear it.... Men are dying...." - -Somebody very tall gave him a blow and knocked him off the pillar; the -flag rose once again and fell. I had no time to see the face of the -man who struck him, as instantly everything turned into a nightmare. -Everything became commotion, became agitated and howled; stones and -logs of wood went flying through the air, fists, that were beating -somebody, appeared above the heads. The crowd, like a living, roaring -wave, lifted me up, carried me along several steps and threw me -violently against a fence, then carried me back and away somewhere, and -at last pressed me against a high pile of wood, that inclined forwards, -threatening to fall down upon somebody's head. Something crackled -and rattled against the beams in rapid dry succession; an instant's -stillness--and again a roar burst forth, enormous, open-mouthed, -terrible in its overwhelming power. And then the dry rapid crackling -was heard again and somebody fell down near me with the blood flowing -out of a red hole where his eye had been. And a heavy log of wood came -whirling through the air and struck me in the face, and I fell down and -began crawling, whither I knew not, amidst the trampling feet, and -came to an open space. Then I climbed over some fences, breaking all -my nails, clambered up piles of wood; one pile fell to pieces under -me and I fell amidst a cataract of thumping logs; at last I succeeded -with difficulty in getting out of a closed-in space--while behind me -all crashed, roared, howled and crackled, trying to overtake me. A -bell was ringing somewhere; something fell with a thundering crash, as -if it were a five-storey house. The twilight seemed to have stopped -still, keeping back the night, and the roar and shots, as if steeped in -red, had driven away the darkness. Jumping over the last fence I found -myself in a narrow, crooked lane resembling a corridor, between two -obscure walls, and began running. I ran for a long time, but the lane -seemed to have no outlet: it was terminated by a wall, behind which -piles of wood and scaffolding rose up black against the sky. And again -I climbed over the mobile, shifting piles, falling into pits, where all -was still and smelt of damp wood, getting out of them again into the -open, not daring to look back, for I knew quite well what was happening -by the dull reddish colour that tinged the black beams and made them -look like murdered giants. My smashed face had stopped bleeding and -felt numbed and strange, like a mask of plaster; and the pain had -almost quite disappeared. I believe I fainted and lost consciousness in -one of the black holes into which I had fallen, but I am not certain -whether I only imagined it or was it really so, as I can only remember -myself running. - -I rushed about the unfamiliar streets, that had no lamps, past the -black death-like houses for a long time, unable to find my way out of -the dumb labyrinth. I ought to have stopped and looked around me to -define the necessary direction, but it was impossible to do so: the -still distant din and howl was following at my heels and gradually -overtaking me; sometimes, at a sudden turning, it struck me in the -face, red and enveloped in clouds of livid, curling smoke, and then I -turned back and rushed on until it was at my back once more. At one -corner I saw a strip of light, that disappeared at my approach: it was -a shop that was being hastily closed. I caught a glimpse of the counter -and a barrel through a wide chink, but suddenly all became enveloped in -a silent, crouching gloom. Not far from the shop I met a man, who was -running towards me, and we almost collided in the darkness, stopping -short at the distance of two steps from each other. I do not know who -he was: I only saw the dark alert outline. - -"Are you coming from over there?" he asked. - -"Yes." - -"And where are you running to?" - -"Home." - -"Ah! Home?" - -He was silent for an instant and suddenly flung himself upon me, trying -to bring me to the ground, and his cold fingers searched hungrily for -my throat, but got entangled in my clothes. I bit his hand, loosened -myself from his grip and set off running through the deserted streets -with him after me, stamping loudly with his boots, for a long time. -Then he stopped--I suppose the bite hurt him. - -I do not know how I hit upon my street. It had no lamps either and the -houses had not a single light, as if they were dead, and I would have -run past without recognising it, if I had not by chance lifted my eyes -and seen my house. But I hesitated for some time: the house in which -I had lived for so many years seemed to me unfamiliar in that strange -dead street, in which my loud breathing awakened an extraordinary -and mournful echo. Then I was seized by a sudden wild terror at -the thought that I had lost my key when I fell, and I found it with -difficulty, although it was there all the time in the pocket of my -coat. And when I turned the lock the echo repeated the sound so loudly -and extraordinarily, as if all the doors of those dead houses in the -whole street had opened simultaneously. - -... At first I hid myself in the cellar, but it was terrible and dull -down there, and something began darting before my eyes, so I quietly -stole into the rooms. Groping my way in the dark I locked all the -doors and after a short meditation decided to barricade them with the -furniture, but the sound of the furniture being moved was terribly -loud in the empty rooms and terrified me. "I shall await death thus. -It's all the same," I decided. There was some water, very warm water -in the water-jug, and I washed my face in the dark and wiped it with a -sheet. The parts that were smashed galled and smarted much, and I felt -a desire to look at myself in the looking-glass. I lit a match--and in -its uneven, faint light there glanced at me from out of the darkness -something so hideous and terrible, that I hastily threw the match upon -the floor. I believe my nose was broken. "It makes no difference now," -said I to myself. "Nobody will mind." - -And I felt gay. With strange grimaces and contortions of the body, as -if I were personating a thief on the stage, I went into the larder and -began searching for food. I clearly saw the unsuitableness of all my -grimaces, but it pleased me so. And I ate with the same contortions, -pretending that I was very hungry. - -But the darkness and quiet frightened me. I opened the window into -the yard and began listening. At first, probably as the traffic had -ceased, all seemed to me to be quite still. And I heard no shots. But -soon I clearly distinguished a distant din of voices: shouts, the crash -of something falling, a laugh. The sounds grew louder perceptibly. I -looked at the sky; it was livid and sweeping past rapidly. And the -coach-house opposite me, and the paving of the streets, and the dog's -kennel, all were tinged with the same reddish glare. I called the dog -softly,-- - -"Neptune!" - -But nothing stirred in the kennel, and near it I distinguished in the -livid light a shining piece of broken chain. The distant cries and -noise of something falling kept on growing, and I shut the window. - -"They are coming here!" I said to myself, and began looking for some -place to hide myself. I opened the stoves, fumbled at the grate, opened -the cupboards, but they would not do. I made the round of all the -rooms, excepting the study, into which I did not want to look. I knew -he was sitting in his armchair at his table, heaped with books, and -this was unpleasant to me at that moment. - -Gradually it began to appear that I was not alone: around me people -were silently moving about in the darkness. They almost touched me, and -once somebody's breath sent a cold thrill through the back of my head. - -"Who is there?" I asked in a whisper, but nobody answered. - -And when I moved on they followed me, silent and terrible. I knew that -it was only a hallucination because I was ill and apparently feverish, -but I could not conquer my fear, from which I was trembling all over as -if I had the ague. I felt my head: it was hot as if on fire. - -"I had better go there," said I to myself. "He is one of my own people -after all." - -He was sitting in his armchair at his table, heaped with books, and -did not disappear as he did the last time, but remained seated. The -reddish light was making its way through the red drawn curtains into -the room, but did not light up anything, and he was scarcely visible. I -sat down at a distance from him on the couch and waited. All was still -in the room, while from outside the even buzzing noise, the crash of -something falling and disjointed cries were borne in upon us. And they -were nearing us. The livid light became brighter and brighter, and I -could distinguish him in his armchair--his black, iron-like profile, -outlined by a narrow stripe of red. - -"Brother!" I said. - -But he kept silence, immobile and black, like a monument. A board -cracked in the next room and suddenly all became so extraordinarily -still, as it is where there are many dead. All the sounds died away -and the livid light itself assumed a scarcely perceptible shade of -deathliness and stillness and became motionless and a little dim. I -thought the stillness was coming from my brother and told him so. - -"No, it is not from me," he answered. "Look out of the window." - -I pulled the curtains aside and staggered back. - -"So that's what it is!" said I. - -"Call my wife; she has not seen that yet," ordered my brother. - -She was sitting in the dining-room sewing something and, seeing my -face, rose obediently, stuck her needle into her work and followed me. -I pulled back the curtains from all the windows and the livid light -flowed in through the broad openings unhindered, but somehow did not -make the room any lighter: it was just as dark and only the big red -squares of the windows burned brightly. - -We went up to the window. Before the house there stretched an even, -fiery red sky, without a single cloud, star or sun, and ended at the -horizon, while below it lay just such an even dark red field, and -it was covered with dead bodies. All the corpses were naked and lay -with their legs towards us, so that we could only see their feet and -triangular heads. And all was still; apparently they were all dead, and -there were no wounded left behind in that endless field. - -"Their number is growing," said my brother. - -He was standing at the window also, and all were there: my mother, -sister and everybody that lived in the house. I could not distinguish -their faces, and could recognise them only by their voices. - -"It only seems so," said my sister. - -"No, it's true. Just look." - -And, truly, there seemed to be more bodies. We looked attentively for -the reason and found it: at the side of a corpse, where there was a -free space, a fresh corpse suddenly appeared: apparently the earth was -throwing them up. And all the unoccupied spaces filled rapidly, and the -earth grew lighter from the light pink bodies, that were lying side by -side with their feet towards us. And the room grew lighter filled with -a light pink dead light. - -"Look, there is not enough room for them," said my brother. - -And my mother answered,-- - -"There is one here already." - -We looked round: behind us on the floor lay a naked, light pink body -with its head thrown back. And instantly at its side there appeared a -second, and a third. And the earth threw them up one after the other, -and soon the orderly rows of light pink dead bodies filled all the -rooms. - -"They are in the nursery too," said the nurse. "I saw them." - -"We must go away," said my sister. - -"But we cannot pass," said my brother. - -"Look!" - -And sure enough, they were lying close together, arm to arm, and their -naked feet were touching us. And suddenly they stirred and swayed and -rose up in the same orderly rows: the earth was throwing up new bodies, -and they were lifting the first ones upwards. - -"They will smother us!" said I. "Let us save ourselves through the -window." - -"We cannot!" cried my brother. "We cannot! Look what is there!" - -... Behind the window, in a livid, motionless light, stood the Red -Laugh. - - - THE END - - - - - EDINBURGH - COLSTON AND COY. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The red laugh: fragments of a discovered manuscript - -Author: Leonid Andreyev - -Translator: Alexandra Linden - -Release Date: June 23, 2020 [EBook #62460] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED LAUGH *** - - - - -Produced by Carlos Colón, the University of California -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="box">Transcriber's Notes:<br /> -<br /> - - -Blank pages have been eliminated.<br /> -<br /> -Variations in spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the -original.<br /> -<br /> -A few typographical errors have been corrected.<br /> -<br /> -The cover page was created by the transcriber and can be considered public domain.</p> -<hr class="chap" /></div> -<div class="chapter"> - - -<p class="p6 center large">A LIST OF BOOKS ON RUSSIA AND SIBERIA</p> - -<p class="p2">Published by ...</p> - -<p class="p2 center">T. FISHER UNWIN<br /> -11 Paternoster Buildings, London, E.C.</p></div> - -<p class="p4 center">HISTORY, DESCRIPTION, ETC.</p> - -<p><b>Travels of a Naturalist in Northern Europe.</b> By -<span class="smcap">J. A. Harvie-Brown</span>, F.R.S.E., F.Z.S., Author of "Fauna of -the Moray Basin," "A Vertebrate Fauna of Orkney," etc., etc. -With 4 Maps and many Illustrations. 2 vols. Royal 8vo, cloth. -£3, 3s. net.</p> - -<p>Limited Edition. Uniform with "Fauna of the Moray Basin."</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>Siberia: A Record of Travel, Exploration, and -Climbing.</b> By <span class="smcap">Samuel Turner</span>. With 100 Illustrations and -2 Maps. Demy 8vo, cloth. 21s. net.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>Russia Under the Great Shadow.</b> By <span class="smcap">Luigi Villari</span>, -Author of "Giovanni Segantini," "Italian Life in Town and -Country," etc. With 85 Illustrations. Second Impression. -Demy 8vo, cloth. 10s. 6d. net.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>Tourgueneff and his French Circle.</b> Edited by -<span class="smcap">H. Halpérine-Kaminsky</span>. Translated by <span class="smcap">Ethel M. Arnold</span>. -Cr. 8vo, cloth. 7s. 6d.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>The Peoples and Politics of the Far East.</b> Travels -and Studies in the British, French, Spanish, and Portuguese -Colonies, Siberia, China, Japan, Korea, Siam, and Malaya. By -<span class="smcap">Henry Norman</span>, B.A., M.P. With many Illustrations. Sixth -Impression. Small demy 8vo, cloth. 7s. 6d.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>Poland.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. R. Morfill</span>, M.A., Professor of Russian -and Slavonic Languages in the University of Oxford. Third -Impression. With 50 Illustrations and Maps. (Story of the -Nations. Vol. 33.) Large cr. 8vo, cloth. 5s.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>Russia.</b> By <span class="smcap">W. R. Morfill</span>, M.A. Fourth Edition. -With 60 Illustrations and Maps. (Story of the Nations. Vol. 23.) -Large cr. 8vo, cloth. 5s.</p> - -<p>War Edition. Brought up to date and with Supplementary Chapters -on the Present Situation, and Large War Map. Cloth. 5s.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>The Memoirs and Travels of Count de Benyowsky</b> -in Siberia, Kamtschatka, Japan, the Liukiu Islands, and Formosa. -Edited by Captain <span class="smcap">S. P. Oliver</span>, R.A. Illustrated. Cr. 8vo, -cloth. 3s. 6d.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>The Grand Duchy of Finland.</b> By the author of "A -Visit to the Russians." Cr. 8vo, cloth, with Map, 2s. 6d. net.</p> - - -<p class="p2 center">FICTION</p> - -<p><b>Three Dukes.</b> A Novel of Russian Life. By <span class="smcap">G. -Ystridde</span>. (Unwin's Red Cloth Library.) Cr. 8vo, cloth. 6s.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>The Watcher on the Tower.</b> A Story of Napoleon's -Invasion of Russia. By <span class="smcap">A. G. Hales</span>. (Unwin's Red Cloth -Library.) Cr. 8vo, cloth. 6s.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>Finnish Legends.</b> Adapted by <span class="smcap">R. Eivind</span>. Illustrated -from the Finnish text. (Children's Library). Fcap. 8vo, cloth -2s. 6d.</p> - - -<p class="p2 center">IN THE PSEUDONYM LIBRARY<br /> -Cloth, 2s.; Paper, 1s. 6d.</p> - -<p><b>Mademoiselle Ixe.</b> By <span class="smcap">Lanoe Falconer</span>.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>Makar's Dream, and other Russian Stories.</b> By -<span class="smcap">V. Korolenko</span>.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>A Saghalien Convict.</b> By <span class="smcap">V. Korolenko</span>.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>Squire Hellman.</b> By <span class="smcap">Juhani Aho</span>.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>A Russian Priest.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Potapenko</span>.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>The General's Daughter.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Potapenko</span>.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>A Father of Six.</b> By <span class="smcap">J. Potapenko</span>.</p> - - -<p class="p2 center">BY MAXIM GORKY<br /> -Crown 8vo, cloth, 1s. net.</p> - -<p><b>Foma Gordyeeff.</b> Unabridged.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>The Outcasts, and Other Stories.</b></p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>Three of Them.</b></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="p2"><b>The Red Laugh.</b> By <span class="smcap">Leonidas Andreief</span>. Paper -cover, 1s. net.</p> - - -<p class="p2"><b>The China Cup, and Other Stories.</b> By <span class="smcap">Felix -Volkhovsky</span>. Illustrated by Malischeff. (Children's Library). -Illustrated. Fcap. 8vo, decorated binding, 1s.</p> - - -<p class="p2 center"><span class="smcap">London</span>: T. FISHER UNWIN.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6 center">NOVELS <span class="smcap">by</span> MAXIM GORKY<br /> -<i>Bound in cloth, 1s. net. each</i></p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="5" summary="gorky"> - -<tr><td class="tdl">THREE OF THEM</td><td class="tdl">(22nd Thousand)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">THE OUTCASTS</td><td class="tdl">(10th Thousand)</td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdl">THE MAN WHO WAS AFRAID</td><td class="tdl">(15th Thousand)</td></tr> -</table> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="i2">THREE DUKES. A Novel of the Russian -Upper Classes of To-Day. By <span class="smcap">G. Ystridde</span>. -Second Edition, 6s.</p></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> - -<div class="figcenter4em"><img src="images/front.jpg" width="550" -height="748" alt="" title="" /> -</div><hr class="chap" /></div> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<h1>THE RED LAUGH</h1> - -<p class="center"><i>FRAGMENTS OF A DISCOVERED MANUSCRIPT</i></p> - -<p class="center p4">BY<br /> -LEONIDAS ANDREIEF</p> - -<p class="center p4"><i>Translated from the Russian by</i> <span class="smcap">Alexandra Linden</span></p> - -<p class="center p4">LONDON<br /> -T. FISHER UNWIN<br /> -PATERNOSTER SQUARE<br /> -1905</p><hr class="chap" /></div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><i>Protected under the Berne Convention in accordance with -Article III. as modified by the Paris additional Act of -May 4, 1896.</i></p><hr class="chap" /></div> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>PREFACE</h2></div> - - -<p>Leonidas Andreief, the author of <i>The Red -Laugh</i> and of some volumes of short stories, -was born at Orel in 1871. He studied first -at the college of his own town, then at St -Petersburg University. As a student at St -Petersburg, he made a miserable livelihood -by giving infrequent lessons at wretched -rates, and his first literary efforts belong to -this period. His first short story, the subject -of which was, in fact, autobiographical—the -sorry life of the poor student, always -half starving—was derisively rejected. But -he gained entry into an important St -Petersburg review with another and characteristic -short story, <i>Silence</i>, and with it won -the attention of the Russian literary world. -Now his popularity in Russia almost transcends -that of Gorky. Russian critics have said of -Andreief, as Victor Hugo said of the author -of the <i>Fleurs du Mal</i>, that he has "invented<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> -a new thrill," and Andreief seems, indeed, to be -most at home in a region of horror, though it is -very much psychologised horror, a horror full -of fine shades. <i>The Red Laugh</i> is a literary -outcome of the late war in Manchuria; it sets -forth the anachronism of war as that anachronism -is felt by a writer of genius.</p> - -<p class="right">O.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="center large">THE RED LAUGH</p> - - -<h2>PART I</h2> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment I</span></h3></div> - -<p>..... Horror and madness.</p> - -<p>I felt it for the first time as we were marching -along the road—marching incessantly for -ten hours without stopping, never diminishing -our step, never waiting to pick up those that -had fallen, but leaving them to the enemy, -that was moving behind us in a compact mass -only three or four hours later effacing the -marks of our feet by their own.</p> - -<p>It was very sultry. I do not know how -many degrees there were—120°, 140°, or more—I -only know that the heat was incessant, hopelessly -even and profound. The sun was so -enormous, so fiery and terrible, that it seemed -as if the earth had drawn nearer to it and -would soon be burnt up altogether in its -merciless rays. Our eyes had ceased to look.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> -The small shrunk pupil, as small as a poppyseed, -sought in vain for darkness under the -closed eyelid; the sun pierced the thin covering -and penetrated into the tortured brain in a -blood-red glow. But, nevertheless, it was -better so: with closed eyelids, and for a long -time, perhaps for several hours, I walked along -with my eyes shut, hearing the multitude -moving around me: the heavy, uneven tread -of many feet, men's and horses, the grinding -of iron wheels, crushing the small stones, -somebody's deep strained breathing and the -dry smacking of parched lips. But I heard no -word. All were silent, as if an army of dumb -people was moving, and when anyone fell -down, he fell in silence; others stumbled -against his body, fell down and rose mutely, -and, without turning their heads, marched on, -as though these dumb men were also blind and -deaf. I stumbled and fell several times and -then involuntarily opened my eyes, and all -that I saw seemed a wild fiction, the terrible -raving of a mad world. The air vibrated at a -white-hot temperature, the stones seemed to -be trembling silently, ready to flow, and in the -distance, at a curve of the road, the files of men, -guns and horses seemed detached from the -earth, and trembled like a mass of jelly in their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> -onward progress, and it seemed to me that they -were not living people that I saw before me, -but an army of incorporate shadows.</p> - -<p>The enormous, near, terrible sun lit up -thousands of tiny blinding suns on every gun-barrel -and metal plate, and these suns, as fiery-white -and sharp as the white-hot points of the -bayonets, crept into your eyes from every -side. And the consuming, burning heat penetrated -into your body—into your very bones -and brain—and at times it seemed to me that it -was not a head that swayed upon my shoulders, -but a strange and extraordinary globe, heavy and -light, belonging to somebody else, and horrible.</p> - -<p>And then—then I suddenly remembered my -home: a corner of my room, a scrap of light-blue -wall-paper, and a dusty untouched water-bottle -on my table—on my table, which has -one leg shorter than the others, and had a small -piece of paper folded under it. While in the -next room—and I cannot see them—are my -wife and little son. If I had had the power -to cry out, I would have done so—so wonderful -was this simple and peaceful picture—the scrap -of light-blue wall-paper and dusty untouched -water-bottle. I know that I stood still and -lifted up my arms, but somebody gave me a -push from behind, and I quickly moved on,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -thrusting the crowd aside, and hastening whither -I knew not, but feeling now neither heat nor -fatigue. And I marched on thus for a long -time through the endless mute files, past red -sunburnt necks, almost touching the helplessly -lowered hot bayonets, when suddenly the -thought of what I was doing, whither I was -hastening, stopped me. I turned aside in the -same hasty way, forced my way to the open, -clambered across a gulley and sat down on a -stone in a preoccupied manner, as if that rough -hot stone was the aim of all my strivings.</p> - -<p>And then I felt it for the first time. I -clearly perceived that all these people, marching -silently on in the glaring sun, torpid from -fatigue and heat, swaying and falling—that they -were all mad. They did not know whither -they were going, they did not know what that -sun was for, they did not know anything. It -was not heads that they had on their shoulders, -but strange and terrible globes. There—I saw -a man in the same plight as I, pushing his way -hurriedly through the rows and falling down; -there—another, and a third. Suddenly a -horse's head appeared above the throng with -bloodshot and senseless eyes and a wide-open -grinning mouth, that only hinted at a terrible -unearthly cry; this head appeared, fell down,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -and for an instant the crowd stopped, growing -denser in that spot; I could hear hoarse, hollow -voices, then a shot, and again the silent endless -march continued.</p> - -<p>An hour passed as I sat on that stone, but -the multitude still moved on past me, and the -air and earth and the distant phantom-like ranks -trembled as before. And again the burning -heat pierced my body and I forgot what for -an instant I had pictured to myself; and the -multitudes moved on past me, but I did not -know who they were. An hour ago I was alone -on the stone, but now I was surrounded by a -group of grey people: some lying motionless, -perhaps dead; others were sitting up and staring -vacantly at those passing by. Some had guns -and resembled soldiers; others were stripped -almost naked, and the skin on their bodies was -so livid, that one did not care to look at it. -Not far from me someone was lying with his -bared back upturned.</p> - -<p>One could see by the unconcerned manner -in which he had buried his face in the sharp -burning sand, by the whiteness of the palm of -his upturned hand, that he was dead, but his -back was as red as if he were alive, and only a -slight yellowish tinge, like one sees on smoked -meat, spoke of death. I wanted to move<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> -away from him, but I had not the strength, -and, tottering from weakness, I continued -looking at the endless phantom-like swaying -files of men. By the condition of my head I -knew that I should soon have a sunstroke too, -but I awaited it calmly, as in a dream, where -death seems only a stage on the path of -wonderful and confused visions.</p> - -<p>And I saw a soldier part from the crowd -and direct his steps in a decided manner -towards us. For an instant I lost sight of him -in a ditch, but when he reappeared and moved -on towards us, his gait was unsteady, and in his -endeavours to control his restlessly tossing -body, one felt he was using his last strength. -He was coming so straight upon me that I -grew frightened and, breaking through the -heavy torpor that enveloped my brain, I -asked: "What do you want?"</p> - -<p>He stopped short, as if it was only a word -that he was waiting for, and stood before me, -enormous, bearded, in a torn shirt. He had -no gun, his trousers hung only by one button, -and through a slit in them one could see his -white body. He flung his arms and legs -about and he was visibly trying to control -them, but could not: the instant he brought -his arms together, they fell apart again.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> - -<p>"What is the matter? You had better sit -down," I said.</p> - -<p>But he continued standing, vainly trying to -gather himself together, and stared at me in -silence. Involuntarily I got up from the stone -and, tottering, looked into his eyes—and saw -an abyss of horror and insanity in them. -Everybody's pupils were shrunk—but his had -dilated and covered his whole eye: what -a sea of fire he must have seen through those -enormous black windows! Maybe I had -only imagined it, maybe in his look there was -only death,—but no, I was not mistaken: in -those black, bottomless pupils, surrounded by -a narrow orange-coloured rim, like a bird's -eye, there was more than death, more than -the horror of death. "Go away!" I cried, -falling back. "Go away!" And as if he was -only waiting for a word, enormous, disorderly -and mute as before, he suddenly fell down -upon me, knocking me over. With a shudder -I freed my legs from under him, jumped up -and longed to run—somewhere away from -men into the sunlit, unpeopled and quivering -distance, when suddenly, on the left-hand side, -a cannon boomed forth from a hill-top, and -directly after it two others, like an echo. And -somewhere above our heads a shell flew past<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -with a gladsome, many-voiced scr-e-e-ch and -howl.</p> - -<p>We were outflanked.</p> - -<p>The murderous heat, fear and fatigue disappeared -instantly. My thoughts cleared, -my mind grew clear and sharp, and, when -I ran up, out of breath, to the files of men -drawing up, I saw serene, almost joyous faces, -heard hoarse, but loud voices, orders, jokes. -The sun seemed to have drawn itself up -higher so as not to be in the way, and had -grown dim and still—and again a shell, like a -witch, cut the air with a gladsome scr-e-e-ch.</p> - -<p>I came up....</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment II</span></h3> - -<p>... Nearly all the horses and men. The -same in the eighth battery. In our twelfth -battery, towards the end of the third day, -there remained only three guns—all the others -being disabled—six men and one officer, myself. -We had neither slept nor eaten for twenty -hours; for three days and nights a Satanic roar -and howl enveloped us in a cloud of insanity, -isolated us from the earth, the sky and ourselves—and -we, the living, wandered about -like lunatics. The dead—they lay still, while -we moved about doing our duty, talking and -laughing, and we were—like lunatics. All<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -our movements were quick and certain, our -orders clear, the execution of them precise, -but if you had suddenly asked any one of us -who we were, undoubtedly we should not have -been able to find an answer in our troubled -brain. As in a dream all faces seemed familiar, -and all that was going on seemed quite -familiar and natural—as if it had happened before; -but when I looked closely at any face or -gun, or began listening to the din, I was struck -by the novelty and endless mystery of everything. -Night approached imperceptibly, and -before we had time to notice it and wonder -where it had come from, the sun was again -burning above our heads. And only from -those who came to our battery we learnt that -it was the third day of the battle that was -dawning, and instantly forgot it again: to -us it appeared as one endless day without any -beginning, sometimes dark, sometimes bright, -but always incomprehensible and blind. And -nobody was afraid of death, for nobody understood -what death was.</p> - -<p>On the third or fourth night—I do not -remember which—I lay down for a minute -behind the breastwork, and, as soon as I shut -my eyes, the same familiar and extraordinary -picture stood before them: the scrap of light-blue<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -wall-paper and the dusty untouched -water-bottle on my table. While in the next -room—and I could not see them—were my wife -and little son. But this time a lamp with a -green shade was burning on the table, so it -must have been evening or night. The picture -stood motionless, and I contemplated it very -calmly and attentively for a long time, letting -my eyes rest on the light reflected in the crystal -of the water-bottle, and on the wall-paper, -and wondered why my son was not asleep: -for it was night and time for him to go to bed. -Then I again began examining the wall-paper: -every spiral, silvery flower, square and line—and -never imagined that I knew my room so -well. Now and then I opened my eyes and -saw the black sky with beautiful fiery stripes -upon it, then shut them again and saw once -more the wall-paper, the bright water-bottle, -and wondered why my son was not asleep, -for it was night and time for him to go to bed. -Once a shell burst not far from me, making my -legs give a jerk, and somebody cried out loudly, -louder than the bursting of the shell, and I -said to myself: "Somebody is killed," but I did -not get up and did not tear my eyes away from -the light-blue wall-paper and the water-bottle.</p> - -<p>Afterwards I got up, moved about, gave<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -orders, looked at the men's faces, trained the -guns, and kept on wondering why my son was -not asleep. Once I asked the sergeant, and -he explained it to me at length with great -detail, and we kept nodding our heads. And -he laughed, and his left eyebrow kept twitching, -while his eye winked cunningly at somebody -behind us. Behind us were somebody's feet—and -nothing more.</p> - -<p>By this time it was quite light, when suddenly -there fell a drop of rain. Rain—just the same -as at home, the most ordinary little drops of -rain. But it was so sudden and out of place, -and we were so afraid of getting wet, that we -left our guns, stopped firing, and tried to find -shelter anywhere we could.</p> - -<p>The sergeant with whom I had only just -been speaking got under the gun-carriage and -dozed off, although he might have been crushed -any minute; the stout artilleryman, for some -reason or other, began undressing a corpse, -while I began running about the battery in -search of something—a cloak or an umbrella. -And the same instant over the whole enormous -area, where the rain-cloud had burst, a -wonderful stillness fell. A belated shrapnel-shot -shrieked and burst, and everything grew -still—so still that one could hear the stout<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -artilleryman panting and the drops of rain -splashing upon the stones and guns. And this -soft and continuous sound, that reminded one -of autumn—the smell of the moist earth and -the stillness—seemed to tear the bloody, savage -nightmare asunder for an instant; and when I -glanced at the wet, glistening gun it unexpectedly -reminded me of something dear and peaceful—my -childhood, or perhaps my first love. -But in the distance a gun boomed forth particularly -loud, and the spell of the momentary -lull disappeared; the men began coming out -of their hiding-places as suddenly as they had -hid themselves; a gun roared, then another, -and once again the weary brain was enveloped -by bloody, indissoluble gloom. And nobody -noticed when the rain stopped. I only remember -seeing the water rolling off the fat, sunken -yellow face of the killed artilleryman; so I supposed -it rained for rather a long time....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>... Before me stood a young volunteer, -holding his hand to his cap and reporting to -me that the general wanted us to retain our -position for only two hours more, when we -should be relieved. I was wondering why my -son was not in bed, and answered that I could -hold on as much as he wished. But suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -I became interested in the young man's face, -probably because of its unusual and striking -pallor. I never saw anything whiter than that -face: even the dead have more colour than that -young, beardless face had. I suppose he became -terrified on his way to us, and could not recover -himself; and in holding his hand to his cap he -was only making an effort to drive away his mad -fear by a simple and habitual gesture.</p> - -<p>"Are you afraid?" I asked, touching his -elbow. But his elbow seemed as if made of -wood, and he only smiled and remained silent. -Better to say, his lips alone were twitching into -a smile, while his eyes were full of youth and -terror only—nothing more.</p> - -<p>"Are you afraid?" I repeated kindly. His -lips twitched, trying to frame a word, and the -same instant there happened something incomprehensible, -monstrous and supernatural. I -felt a draught of warm air upon my right cheek -that made me sway—that is all—while before -my eyes, in place of the white face, there was -something short, blunt and red, and out of it the -blood was gushing as out of an uncorked bottle, -such as is drawn on badly executed signboards. -And that short, red and flowing "something" -still seemed to be smiling a sort of smile, a -toothless laugh—a red laugh.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -I recognised it—that red laugh. I had been -searching for it, and I had found it—that red -laugh. Now I understood what there was in -all those mutilated, torn, strange bodies. It -was a red laugh. It was in the sky, it was in -the sun, and soon it was going to overspread -the whole earth—that red laugh!</p> - -<p>While they, with precision and calmness, like -lunatics....</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment III</span></h3> - -<p>They say there are a great number of madmen -in our army as well as in the enemy's. -Four lunatic wards have been opened. When I -was on the staff our adjutant showed me....</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment IV</span></h3> - -<p>... Coiled round like snakes. He saw the -wire, chopped through at one end, cut the air -and coil itself round three soldiers. The barbs -tore their uniforms and stuck into their bodies, -and, shrieking, the soldiers spun round in -frenzy, two of them dragging the third, who -was already dead, after them. Then only one remained -alive, and he tried to push the two that -were dead away from him; but they trailed after -him, whirling and rolling over each other and over -him; and suddenly all three became motionless.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> - -<p>He told me that no less than two thousand -men were lost at that one wire entanglement. -While they were hacking at the wire and getting -entangled in its serpentine coils, they were -pelted by an incessant rain of balls and grape-shot. -He assured me it was very terrifying, -and if only they had known in which direction -to run, that attack would have ended in a panic -flight. But ten or twelve continuous lines of -wire, and the struggle with it, a whole labyrinth -of pitfalls with stakes driven in at the bottom, -had muddled them so, that they were quite -incapable of defining the direction of escape.</p> - -<p>Some, like men blind, fell into the funnel-shaped -pits, and hung upon the sharp stakes, -pierced through the stomach, twitching convulsively -and dancing like toy clowns; they -were crushed down by fresh bodies, and soon -the whole pit filled to the edges, and presented -a writhing mass of bleeding bodies, dead and -living. Hands thrust themselves out of it in -all directions, the fingers working convulsively, -catching at everything; and those who once -got caught in that trap could not get back -again: hundreds of fingers, strong and blind, -like the claws of a lobster, gripped them firmly -by the legs, caught at their clothes, threw them -down upon themselves, gouged out their eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -and throttled them. Many seemed as if they -were intoxicated, and ran straight at the wire, -got caught in it, and remained shrieking, until -a bullet finished them.</p> - -<p>Generally speaking, they all seemed like -people intoxicated: some swore dreadfully, -others laughed when the wire caught them by -the arm or leg and died there and then. He -himself, although he had had nothing to eat or -drink since the morning, felt very queer. His -head swam, and there were moments when the -feeling of terror in him changed to wild rapture, -and from rapture again to terror. When somebody -struck up a song at his side, he caught up -the tune, and soon a whole unanimous chorus -broke forth. He did not remember what they -sang, only that it was lively in a dancing strain. -Yes, they sang, while all around them was red -with blood. The very sky seemed to be red, -and one could have thought that a catastrophe -had overwhelmed the universe—a strange disappearance -of colours: the light-blue and green -and other habitual peaceful colours had disappeared, -while the sun blazed forth in a red -flare-light.</p> - -<p>"The red laugh," said I.</p> - -<p>But he did not understand.</p> - -<p>"Yes, and they laughed, as I told you be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>fore, -like people intoxicated. Perhaps they -even danced. There was something of the -sort. At least the movements of those three -resembled dancing."</p> - -<p>He remembers distinctly, when he was shot -through the chest and fell, his legs twitched for -some time until he lost consciousness, as if he -were dancing to music. And at the present -moment, when he thinks of that attack, a -strange feeling comes over him: partly fear -and partly the desire to experience it all over -again.</p> - -<p>"And get another ball in your chest?" -asked I.</p> - -<p>"There now, why should I get a ball each -time. But it would not be half bad, old boy -to get a medal for bravery."</p> - -<p>He was lying on his back with a waxen face, -sharp nose, prominent cheek-bones and sunken -eyes. He was lying looking like a corpse -and dreaming of a medal! Mortification had -already set in; he had a high temperature, and -in three days' time he was to be thrown into the -grave to join the dead; nevertheless he lay -smiling dreamily and talking about a medal.</p> - -<p>"Have you telegraphed to your mother?" I -asked.</p> - -<p>He glanced at me with terror, animosity and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -anger, and did not answer. I was silent, and -then the groans and ravings of the wounded -became audible. But when I rose to go, he -caught my hand in his hot, but still strong one, -and fixed his sunken burning eyes upon me in -a lost and distressed way.</p> - -<p>"What does it all mean, ay? What does it -all mean?" asked he in a frightened and persistent -manner, pulling at my hand.</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"Everything ... in general. Now, she is -waiting for me. But I cannot. My country—is -it possible to make her understand, what my -country means."</p> - -<p>"The red laugh," answered I.</p> - -<p>"Ah! you are always joking, but I am -serious. It is indispensable to explain it; but -is it possible to make her understand? If you -only knew what she says in her letters!—what -she writes! And you know her words—are -grey-haired. And you—" he looked curiously -at my head, pointed his finger and suddenly -breaking into a laugh said: "Why, you have -grown bald. Have you noticed it?"</p> - -<p>"There are no looking-glasses here."</p> - -<p>"Many have grown bald and grey. Look -here, give me a looking-glass. Give me one! -I feel white hair growing out of my head. Give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -me a looking-glass!" He became delirious, -crying and shouting out, and I left the hospital.</p> - -<p>That same evening we got up an entertainment—a -sad and strange entertainment, at -which, amongst the guests, the shadows of the -dead assisted. We decided to gather in the -evening and have tea, as if we were at home, -at a picnic. We got a samovar, we even got -a lemon and glasses, and established ourselves -under a tree, as if we were at home, at a picnic. -Our companions arrived noisily in twos and -threes, talking, joking and full of gleeful -expectation—but soon grew silent, avoiding to -look at each other, for there was something -fearful in this meeting of spared men. In -tatters, dirty, itching as if we were covered by -a dreadful ringworm, with hair neglected, thin -and worn, having lost all familiar and habitual -aspect, we seemed to see each other for -the first time as we gathered round the -samovar, and seeing each other, we grew terrified. -In vain I looked for a familiar face in -this group of disconcerted men—I could not -find one. These men, restless, hasty and jerky -in their movements, starting at every sound, -constantly looking for something behind their -backs, trying to fill up that mysterious void -into which they were too terrified to look, by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -superfluous gesticulations—were new, strange -men, whom I did not know. And their voices -sounded different, articulating the words with -difficulty in jerks, easily passing into angry -shouts or senseless, irrepressible laughter at the -slightest provocation. And everything around -us was strange to us. The tree was strange, -and the sunset strange, and the water strange, -with a peculiar taste and smell, as if we had -left the earth and entered into a new world together -with the dead—a world of mysterious -phenomena and ominous sombre shadows. The -sunset was yellow and cold; black, unillumined, -motionless clouds hung heavily over it, while -the earth under it was black, and our faces in -that ill-omened light seemed yellow, like the -faces of the dead. We all sat watching the -samovar, but it went out, its sides reflecting the -yellowishness and menace of the sunset, and it -seemed also an unfamiliar, dead and incomprehensible -object.</p> - -<p>"Where are we!" asked somebody, and -uneasiness and fear sounded in his voice. -Somebody sighed; somebody convulsively -cracked his fingers; somebody laughed; somebody -jumped up and began walking quickly -round the table. These last days one could -often meet with such men, that were always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -walking hastily, almost running, at times -strangely silent, at times mumbling something -in an uncanny way.</p> - -<p>"At the war," answered he who had laughed, -and again burst into a hollow, lingering laugh, -as if something was choking him.</p> - -<p>"What is he laughing at?" asked somebody, -indignantly. "Look here, stop it!"</p> - -<p>The other choked once more, gave a titter -and stopped obediently.</p> - -<p>It was growing dark, the cloud seemed to -be settling down on the earth, and we could -with difficulty distinguish each other's yellow -phantom-like faces. Somebody asked,—</p> - -<p>"And where is Fatty-legs?"</p> - -<p>"Fatty-legs" we called a fellow-officer, who, -being short, wore enormous water-tight boots.</p> - -<p>"He was here just now. Fatty-legs, where -are you?"</p> - -<p>"Fatty-legs, don't hide. We can smell -your boots."</p> - -<p>Everybody laughed, but their laugh was interrupted -by a rough, indignant voice that -sounded out of the darkness,—</p> - -<p>"Stop that! Are you not ashamed? Fatty-legs -was killed this morning reconnoitring."</p> - -<p>"He was here just now. It must be a -mistake."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> - -<p>"You imagined it. Heigh-ho! you there, -behind the samovar, cut me a slice of lemon."</p> - -<p>"And me!"</p> - -<p>"And me!"</p> - -<p>"The lemon is finished."</p> - -<p>"How is that, boys?" sounded a gentle, -hurt voice, full of distress and almost crying; -"why, I only came for the sake of the lemon."</p> - -<p>The other again burst into a hollow and -lingering laugh, and nobody checked him. -But he soon stopped. He gave a snigger, and -was silent. Somebody said,—</p> - -<p>"To-morrow we begin the advance on the -enemy."</p> - -<p>But several voices cried out angrily,—</p> - -<p>"Nonsense, advance on the enemy indeed!"</p> - -<p>"But you know yourself—"</p> - -<p>"Shut up. As if we cannot talk of something -else."</p> - -<p>The sunset faded. The cloud lifted, and it -seemed to grow lighter; the faces became -more familiar, and he, who kept circling round -us, grew calmer and sat down.</p> - -<p>"I wonder what it's like at home now?" -asked he, vaguely, and in his voice there -sounded a guilty smile.</p> - -<p>And once again all became terrible, incomprehensible -and strange—so intensely so, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -we were filled with horror, almost to the verge -of losing consciousness. And we all began talking -and shouting at the same time, bustling -about, moving our glasses, touching each -other's shoulders, hands, knees—and all at -once became silent, giving way before the -incomprehensible.</p> - -<p>"At home?" cried somebody out of the -darkness. His voice was hoarse and quivering -with emotion, fear and hatred. And some -of the words would not come out, as if he had -forgotten how to say them.</p> - -<p>"A home? What home? Why, is there -home anywhere? Don't interrupt me or else -I shall fire. At home I used to take a bath -every day—can you understand?—a bath with -water—water up to the very edges. While -now—I do not even wash my face every day. -My head is covered with scurf, and my whole -body itches and over it crawl, crawl.... I -am going mad from dirt, while you talk of—home! -I am like an animal, I despise myself, -I cannot recognise myself, and death is not at -all terrifying. You tear my brain with your -shrapnel-shots. Aim at what you will, all hit -my brain—and you can speak of—home. -What home? Streets, windows, people, but -I would not go into the street now for any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>thing. -I should be ashamed to. You brought a -samovar here, but I was ashamed to look at it."</p> - -<p>The other laughed again. Somebody called -out,—</p> - -<p>"D—n it all! I shall go home."</p> - -<p>"Home?"</p> - -<p>"You don't understand what duty is!"</p> - -<p>"Home? Listen! he wants to go home!"</p> - -<p>There was a burst of laughter and of painful -shouts—and again all became silent—giving -way before the incomprehensible. And then -not only I, but every one of us felt <i>that</i>. It -was coming towards us out of those dark, -mysterious and strange fields; it was rising -from out of those obscure dark ravines, where, -maybe, the forgotten and lost among the stones -were still dying; it was flowing from the -strange, unfamiliar sky. We stood around the -dying-out samovar in silence, losing consciousness -from horror, while an enormous, shapeless -shadow that had risen above the world, looked -down upon us from the sky with a steady and -silent gaze. Suddenly, quite close to us, probably -at the Commander's house, music burst -forth, and the frenzied, joyous, loud sounds -seemed to flash out into the night and stillness. -The band played with frenzied mirth and defiance, -hurriedly, discordantly, too loudly, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -too joyously, and one could feel that those -who were playing, and those who were -listening, saw as we did, that same enormous, -shapeless shadow, risen above the world. -And it was clear the player on the trumpet -carried in himself, in his very brain and ears, -that same enormous dumb shadow. The -abrupt and broken sound tossed about, jumping -and running away from the others, quivering -with horror and insanity in its lonesomeness. -And the other sounds seemed to be -looking round at it, so clumsily they ran, -stumbling, falling, and again rising in a -disorderly crowd—too loud, too joyous, too -close to the black ravines, where most probably -the forgotten and lost among the boulders were -still dying.</p> - -<p>And we stood for a long time around the cold -samovar and were silent.</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment V</span></h3> - -<p>... I was already asleep when the doctor -roused me by pushing me cautiously. I woke, -and jumping up, cried out, as we all did -when anybody wakened us, and rushed to the -entrance of our tent. But the doctor held me -firmly by the arm, excusing himself,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -"I frightened you, forgive me. I know you -want to sleep...."</p> - -<p>"Five days and nights ..." I muttered, -dozing off. I fell asleep and slept, as it seemed -to me for a long time, when the doctor again -began speaking, poking me cautiously in the -ribs and legs.</p> - -<p>"But it is very urgent. Dear fellow, please—it -is so pressing. I keep thinking ... I cannot ... -I keep thinking, that some of the -wounded were left...."</p> - -<p>"What wounded? Why, you were bringing -them in the whole day long. Leave me in -peace. It is not fair—I have not slept for five -days!"</p> - -<p>"Dear boy, don't be angry," muttered the -doctor, awkwardly putting my cap on my head; -"everybody is asleep, it's impossible to rouse -anybody. I've got hold of an engine and seven -carriages, but we're in want of men. I understand.... -Dear fellow, I implore you. Everybody -is asleep and everybody refuses. I'm -afraid of falling asleep myself. I don't remember -when I slept last. I believe I'm -beginning to have hallucinations. There's a -dear fellow, put down your feet, just one—there—there...."</p> - -<p>The doctor was pale and tottering, and one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -could see that if he were only to lie down for -an instant he would fall asleep and remain so -without waking for several days running. My -legs sank under me, and I am certain I fell -asleep as I walked—so suddenly and unexpectedly -appeared before us a row of black -outlines—the engine and carriages. Near -them, scarcely distinguishable in the darkness, -some men were wandering about slowly and -silently. There was not a single light either -on the engine or carriages, and only the shut -ash-box threw a dim reddish light on to the -rails.</p> - -<p>"What is this?" asked I, stepping back.</p> - -<p>"Why, we are going in the train. Have you -forgotten? We are going in the train," -muttered the doctor.</p> - -<p>The night was chilly and he was trembling -from cold, and as I looked at him I felt the -same rapid tickling shiver all over my body.</p> - -<p>"D—n you!" I cried loudly. "Just as if -you couldn't have taken somebody else."</p> - -<p>"Hush! please, hush!" and the doctor -caught me by the arm.</p> - -<p>Somebody out of the darkness said,—</p> - -<p>"If you were to fire a volley from all the -guns, nobody would stir. They are all asleep. -One could go up and bind them all. Just now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -I passed quite close to the sentry. He looked -at me and did not say a word, never stirred. I -suppose he was asleep too. It's a wonder he -does not fall down."</p> - -<p>He who spoke yawned and his clothes -rustled, evidently he was stretching himself. -I leant against the side of the carriage, intending -to climb up—and was instantly overcome -by sleep. Somebody lifted me up from behind -and laid me down, while I began pushing him -away with my feet, without knowing why, and -again I fell asleep, hearing as in a dream fragments -of a conversation:</p> - -<p>"At the seventh verst."</p> - -<p>"Have you forgotten the lanterns?"</p> - -<p>"No, he won't go."</p> - -<p>"Give them here. Back a little. That's it."</p> - -<p>The carriages were jerking backwards and -forwards, something was rattling. And -gradually, because of all these sounds and -because I was lying comfortably and quietly, -sleep deserted me. But the doctor was sound -asleep, and when I took him by the hand, it -was like the hand of a corpse, heavy and limp. -The train was now moving slowly and -cautiously, shaking slightly, as if groping its -way. The student acting as hospital orderly -lighted the candle in the lantern, lighting up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -the walls and the black aperture of the entrance, -and said angrily,—</p> - -<p>"D—n it! Much they need us by this time. -But you had better wake him, before he falls -into a sound sleep, for then you won't be able -to do anything with him. I know by myself."</p> - -<p>We roused the doctor and he sat up, rolling -his eyes vacantly. He tried to lie down again, -but we did not let him.</p> - -<p>"It would be good to have a drop of vodki -now," said the student.</p> - -<p>We drank a mouthful of brandy, and all -sleepiness disappeared entirely. The big black -square of the door began to grow pink, then red—somewhere -from behind the hills appeared -an enormous mute flare of a conflagration: as -if the sun was rising in the middle of the night.</p> - -<p>"It's far away. About twenty versts."</p> - -<p>"I feel cold," said the doctor, snapping his -teeth.</p> - -<p>The student looked out of the door and -beckoned me to come up to him. I looked -out: at different points of the horizon motionless -flares of similar conflagration stood -out in a mute row: as if dozens of suns were -rising simultaneously. And now the darkness -was not so great. The distant hills were -growing more densely black, sharply outlined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -against the sky in a broken and wavy contour, -while in the foreground all was flooded with a -red soft glow, silent and motionless. I glanced -at the student; his face was tinged by the same -red fantastic colour of blood, that had changed -itself into air and light.</p> - -<p>"Are there many wounded?" asked I.</p> - -<p>He waved his hand.</p> - -<p>"A great many madmen. More so than -wounded."</p> - -<p>"Real madmen?"</p> - -<p>"What others can there be?"</p> - -<p>He was looking at me, and his eyes wore -the same fixed, wild expression, full of cold -horror, that the soldier's had, who died of -sunstroke.</p> - -<p>"Stop that," said I, turning away.</p> - -<p>"The doctor is mad also. Just look at him."</p> - -<p>The doctor had not heard. He was sitting -cross-legged, like a Turk, swaying to and fro, -soundlessly moving his lips and finger-tips. -And in his gaze there was the same fixed, -stupefied, blunt, stricken expression.</p> - -<p>"I feel cold," said he, and smiled.</p> - -<p>"Hang you all!" cried I, moving away into -a corner of the carriage. "What did you call -me up for?"</p> - -<p>Nobody answered. The student stood gazing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -out at the mute spreading glow, and the back -of his head with its curly hair was youthful; and -when I looked at him, I do not know why, but -I kept picturing to myself a delicate woman's -hand passing through that hair. And this -image was so unpleasant, that a feeling of -hatred sprang up in my breast, and I could -not look at him without a feeling of loathing.</p> - -<p>"How old are you?" I asked, but he did -not turn his head and did not answer.</p> - -<p>The doctor kept on rocking himself.</p> - -<p>"I feel cold."</p> - -<p>"When I think," said the student, without -turning round, "when I think that there are -streets, houses, a University...."</p> - -<p>He broke off, as if he had said all and was -silent. Suddenly the train stopped almost instantaneously, -making me knock myself against -the wall, and voices were to be heard. We -jumped out. In front of the very engine upon -the rails lay something, a not very large lump, -out of which a leg was projecting.</p> - -<p>"Wounded?"</p> - -<p>"No, dead. The head is torn off. Say what -you will, but I will light the head-light. -Otherwise we shall be crushing somebody."</p> - -<p>The lump with the protruding leg was -thrown aside; for an instant the leg lifted itself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -up, as if it wanted to run through the air, and -all disappeared in a black ditch. The head-light -was lit and the engine instantly grew -black.</p> - -<p>"Listen!" whispered somebody, full of silent -terror.</p> - -<p>How was it that we had not heard it before! -From everywhere—the exact place could not -be defined—a groan, unbroken and scraping, -wonderfully calm in its breadth, and even -indifferent, as it seemed, was borne upon us. -We had heard many cries and groans, but this -resembled none of those heard before. On -the dim reddish surface our eyes could perceive -nothing, and therefore the very earth and sky, -lit up by a never-rising sun, seemed to be -groaning.</p> - -<p>"The fifth verst," said the engine-driver.</p> - -<p>"That is where it comes from," and the -doctor pointed forwards. The student shuddered, -and slowly turned towards us.</p> - -<p>"What is it? It's terrible to listen to!"</p> - -<p>"Let's move on."</p> - -<p>We walked along in front of the engine, -throwing a dense shadow upon the rails, but it -was not black but of a dim red colour, lit up by -the soft motionless flares, that stood out mutely -at the different points of the black sky. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -with each step we made, that wild unearthly -groan, that had no visible source, grew -ominously, as if it was the red air, the very -earth and sky, that were groaning. In its -ceaselessness and strange indifference it recalled -at times the noise of grasshoppers in a -meadow—the ceaseless noise of grasshoppers -in a meadow on a warm summer day. And -we came upon dead bodies oftener and oftener. -We examined them rapidly and threw them off -the rails—those indifferent, calm, limp bodies, -that left dark oily stains where the blood had -soaked into the earth where they had lain. At -first we counted them, but soon got muddled, -and ceased. They were many—too many for -that ominous night, that breathed cold and -groans from each fibre of its being.</p> - -<p>"What does it mean?" cried the doctor, and -threatened somebody with his fist. "Just -listen...."</p> - -<p>We were nearing the sixth verst, and the -groans were growing distinct and sharp, and -we could almost feel the distorted mouths, -from which those terrible sounds were issuing.</p> - -<p>We looked anxiously into the rosy gloom, -so deceitful in its fantastic light, when suddenly, -almost at our feet, beside the rails, somebody -gave a loud, calling, crying, groan. We found<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -him instantly, that wounded man, whose face -seemed to consist only of two eyes, so big -they appeared, when the light of the lantern -fell on his face. He stopped groaning, and -rested his eyes on each of us and our lanterns -in turn, and in his glance there was a mad joy -at seeing men and lights—and a mad fear that -all would disappear like a vision. Perhaps he -had seen men with lanterns bending over him -many times, but they had always disappeared -in a bloody confused nightmare.</p> - -<p>We moved on, and almost instantly stumbled -against two more wounded, one lying on the -rails, the other groaning in a ditch. As we -were picking them up, the doctor, trembling -with anger, said to me: "Well?" and turned -away. Several steps farther on we met a man -wounded slightly, who was walking alone, -supporting one arm with the other. He was -walking with his head thrown back, straight -towards us, but seemed not to notice us, -when we drew aside to let him pass. I believe -he did not see us. He stopped for an instant -near the engine, turned aside, and went past -the train.</p> - -<p>"You had better get in!" cried the doctor, -but he did not answer.</p> - -<p>These were the first that we found, and they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -horrified us. But later on we came upon them -oftener and oftener along the rails or near them, -and the whole field, lit up by the motionless red -flare of the conflagrations, began stirring as if -it were alive, breaking out into loud cries, -wails, curses and groans. All those dark -mounds stirred and crawled about like half-dead -lobsters let out of a basket, with outspread -legs, scarcely resembling men in their -broken, unconscious movements and ponderous -immobility. Some were mute and obedient, -others groaned, wailed, swore and showed -such a passionate hate towards us that were -saving them, as if <i>we</i> had brought about that -bloodly, indifferent night, and been the cause -of all those terrible wounds and their loneliness -amidst the night and dead bodies.</p> - -<p>The train was full, and our clothes were -saturated with blood, as if we had stood for a -long time under a rain of blood, while the -wounded were still being brought in, and the -field, come to life, was stirring wildly as -before.</p> - -<p>Some of the wounded crawled up themselves, -some walked up tottering and falling. -One soldier almost ran up to us. His face was -smashed, and only one eye remained, burning -wildly and terribly, and he was almost naked,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -as if he had come from the bath-room. Pushing -me aside, he caught sight of the doctor, -and rapidly seized him by the chest with his -left hand.</p> - -<p>"I'll smash your snout!" he cried, shaking -the doctor, and added slowly and mordantly a -coarse oath. "I'll smash your snouts! you -rabble!"</p> - -<p>The doctor broke away from the soldier, -and advancing towards him, cried chokingly,—</p> - -<p>"I will have you court-martialled, you -scoundrel! To prison with you! You're -hindering my work! Scoundrel! Brute!"</p> - -<p>We pulled them apart, but the soldier -kept on crying out for a long time: "Rabble! -I'll smash your snout!"</p> - -<p>I was beginning to get exhausted, and went a -little way off to have a smoke and rest a bit. -The blood, dried to my hands, covered them -like a pair of black gloves, making it difficult -for me to bend my fingers, so that I kept -dropping my cigarettes and matches. And -when I succeeded in lighting my cigarette, the -tobacco smoke struck me as novel and strange, -with quite a peculiar taste, the like of which I -never experienced before or after. Just then the -ambulance student with whom I had travelled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -came up to me, and it seemed to me as if I -had met with him several years back, but where -I could not remember. His tread was firm as -if he were marching, and he was staring -through me at something farther on and -higher up.</p> - -<p>"And they are sleeping," said he, as it -seemed, quite calmly.</p> - -<p>I flew into a rage, as if the reproach was -addressed to me.</p> - -<p>"You forget, that they fought like lions for -ten days."</p> - -<p>"And they are sleeping," he repeated, looking -through me and higher up. Then he -stooped down to me and shaking his finger, -continued in the same dry and calm way: "I -will tell you—I will tell you...."</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>He stooped still lower towards me, shaking -his finger meaningly, and kept repeating the -words as if they expressed a completed -idea,—</p> - -<p>"I will tell you—I will tell you. Tell -them...." And still looking at me in the same -severe way, he shook his finger once more, -then took out his revolver and shot himself in -the temple. And this did not surprise or -terrify me in the least. Putting my cigarette<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -into the left hand, I felt his wound with my -fingers, and went back to the train.</p> - -<p>"The student has shot himself. I believe -he is still alive," said I to the doctor. The -latter caught hold of his head and groaned.</p> - -<p>"D—n him!... There is no room. There, -that one will go and shoot himself too, soon. -And I give you my word of honour," cried he, -angrily and menacingly, "I will do the same! -Yes! And let me beg you—just walk back. -There is no room. You can lodge a complaint -against me if you like."</p> - -<p>And he turned away, still shouting, while I -went up to the other who was about to commit -suicide. He was an ambulance man, and also, -I believe, a student. He stood, pressing his -forehead against the wall of the carriage, and -his shoulders shook with sobs.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" said I, touching his quivering -shoulder. But he did not turn round or -answer, and continued crying. And the back -of his head was youthful, like the other -student's, and as terrifying, and he stood in an -absurd manner with his legs spread out like a -person drunk, who is sick; and his neck was -covered with blood; probably he had clutched -it with his own hands.</p> - -<p>"Well?" said I, impatiently.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> - -<p>He pushed himself away from the carriage -and, stooping like an old man, with his head -bent down, he went away into the darkness, -away from all of us. I do not know why, but -I followed him, and we walked along for a long -time away from the carriages. I believe he -was crying, and a feeling of distress stole over -me, and I wanted to cry too.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" I cried, standing still.</p> - -<p>But he walked on, moving his feet -ponderously, bent down, looking like an old -man with his narrow shoulders and shuffling -gait. And soon he disappeared in the reddish -haze, that resembled light and yet lit nothing. -And I remained alone. To the left of me a -row of dim lights floated past—it was the train. -I was alone—amidst the dead and dying. -How many more remained? Near me all was -still and dead, but farther on the field was stirring, -as if it were alive—or so it seemed to me -in my loneliness. But the moan did not -grow less. It spread along the earth—high-pitched, -hopeless, like the cry of a child or the -yelping of thousands of cast-away puppies, -starving and cold. Like a sharp, endless, icy -needle it pierced your brain and slowly moved -backwards and forwards—backwards and forwards....</p> - -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment VI</span></h3> - -<p>... They were our own men. During the -strange confusion of all movements that -reigned in both armies, our own and the -enemy's, during the last month, frustrating all -orders and plans, we were sure it was the -enemy that was approaching us, namely, the -4th corps. And everything was ready for an -attack, when somebody clearly discerned our -uniforms, and ten minutes later our guess had -become a calm and happy certainty: they -were our own men. They apparently had recognised -us too: they advanced quite calmly, -and that calm motion seemed to express -the same happy smile of an unexpected -meeting.</p> - -<p>And when they began firing, we did not -understand for some time what it meant, and -still continued smiling—under a hail of -shrapnel and bullets, that poured down upon -us, snatching away at one stroke hundreds -of men. Somebody cried out by mistake and—I -clearly remember—we all saw that it was -the enemy, that it was his uniform and not -ours, and instantly answered the fire. About -fifteen minutes after the beginning of that -strange engagement both my legs were torn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -off, and I recovered consciousness in the -hospital after the amputation.</p> - -<p>I asked how the battle had ended, and received -an evasive, reassuring answer, by which -I could understand that we had been beaten; -and afterwards, legless as I was, I was overcome -by joy at the thought that now I would -be sent home, that I was alive—alive for a long -time to come, alive forever. And only a week -later I learnt some particulars, that once more -filled me with doubts and a new, unexperienced -feeling of terror. Yes, I believe they were -our own men after all—and it was with one -of our shells, fired out of one of our guns by -one of our men, that my legs had been torn off. -And nobody could explain how it had -happened. Something occurred, something -darkened our vision, and two regiments, belonging -to the same army, facing each -other at a distance of one verst, had been -destroying each other for a whole hour in the -full conviction that it was the enemy they had -before them. Later on the incident was -remembered and spoken of reluctantly in half-words -and—what is most surprising of all—one -could feel that many of the speakers did -not admit the mistake even then. That is to -say, they admitted it, but thought that it had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -occurred later on, that in the beginning they -really had the enemy before them, but that he -disappeared somewhere during the general -fray, leaving us in the range of our own shells. -Some spoke of it openly, giving precise explanations, -which seemed to them plausible -and clear. Up to this very minute I cannot -say for certain how the strange blunder began, -as I saw with equal clearness first our red -uniforms and then their orange-coloured ones. -And somehow very soon everybody forgot -about the incident, forgot about it to such an -extent that it was spoken of as a real battle, -and in that sense many accounts were written -and sent to the papers in all good faith; I -read them when I was back home. At first -the public's attitude towards us, the wounded -in that engagement, was rather strange—we -seemed to be less pitied than those wounded -in other battles, but soon even that disappeared -too. And only new facts, similar to the one -just described, and a case in the enemy's army, -when two detachments actually destroyed each -other almost entirely, having come to a hand-to-hand -fight during the night—gives me the -right to think that a mistake did occur.</p> - -<p>Our doctor, the one that did the amputation, -a lean, bony old man, tainted with tobacco<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -smoke and carbolic acid, everlastingly smiling -at something through his yellowish-grey thin -moustache, said to me, winking his eye,—</p> - -<p>"You're in luck to be going home. There's -something wrong here."</p> - -<p>"What is it?"</p> - -<p>"Something's going wrong. In our time it -was simpler."</p> - -<p>He had taken part in the last European war -almost a quarter of a century back and often -referred to it with pleasure. But this war he did -not understand, and, as I noticed, feared it.</p> - -<p>"Yes, there's something wrong," sighed he, -and frowned, disappearing in a cloud of tobacco -smoke. "I would leave too, if I could."</p> - -<p>And bending over me he whispered through -his yellow smoked moustache,—</p> - -<p>"A time will come when nobody will be able -to go away from here. Yes, neither I nor -anybody," and in his old eyes, so close to me, -I saw the same fixed, dull, stricken expression. -And something terrible, unbearable, resembling -the fall of thousands of buildings, darted -through my head, and growing cold from terror, -I whispered,—</p> - -<p>"The red laugh."</p> - -<p>And he was the first to understand me. He -hastily nodded his head and repeated,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Yes. The red laugh."</p> - -<p>He sat down quite close to me and looking -round began whispering rapidly, in a senile -way, wagging his sharp, grey little beard.</p> - -<p>"You are leaving soon, and I will tell you. Did -you ever see a fight in an asylum? No? Well, -I saw one. And they fought like sane people. -You understand—like sane people." He significantly -repeated the last phrase several times.</p> - -<p>"Well, and what of that?" asked I, also in a -whisper, full of terror.</p> - -<p>"Nothing. Like sane people."</p> - -<p>"The red laugh," said I.</p> - -<p>"They were separated by water being -poured over them."</p> - -<p>I remembered the rain that had frightened -us so, and got angry.</p> - -<p>"You are mad, doctor!"</p> - -<p>"Not more than you. Not more than you -in any case."</p> - -<p>He hugged his sharp old knees and chuckled; -and, looking at me over his shoulder and still -with the echo of that unexpected painful -laugh on his parched lips, he winked at me -slyly several times, as if we two knew something -very funny, that nobody else knew. -Then with the solemnity of a professor of black -magic, giving a conjuring performance, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -lifted his arm and, lowering it slowly, carefully -touched with two fingers that part of the -blanket, under which my legs would have been, -if they had not been cut off.</p> - -<p>"And do you understand this?" he asked -mysteriously.</p> - -<p>Then, in the same solemn and significant -manner, he waved his hand towards the row of -beds on which the wounded were lying, and -repeated,—</p> - -<p>"And can you explain this?"</p> - -<p>"The wounded?" said I. "The wounded?"</p> - -<p>"The wounded," repeated he, like an echo. -"The wounded. Legless and armless, with -pierced sides, smashed-in chests and torn-out -eyes. You understand it? I am very glad. -So I suppose you will understand this also?"</p> - -<p>With an agility, quite unexpected for his age, -he flung himself down and stood on his hands, -balancing his legs in the air. His white -working clothes turned down, his face grew -purple and, looking at me fixedly with a -strange upturned gaze, he threw at me with -difficulty a few broken words,—</p> - -<p>"And this ... do you ... also ... -understand?"</p> - -<p>"Stop!" whispered I in terror, "or else I -will cry out."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> - -<p>He turned over into a natural position, sat -down again near my bed, and taking breath, -remarked instinctively,—</p> - -<p>"And nobody can understand it."</p> - -<p>"Yesterday they were firing again."</p> - -<p>"Yes, they were firing yesterday and the day -before," said he, nodding his head affirmatively.</p> - -<p>"I want to go home!" said I in distress. -"Doctor, dear fellow, I want to go home. I -cannot remain here any longer. At times I -cannot bring myself to believe that I have a -home, where it is so good."</p> - -<p>He was thinking of something and did not -answer, and I began to cry.</p> - -<p>"My God, I have no legs. I used to love -my bicycle so, to walk and run, and now I have -no legs. I used to dance my boy on the right -foot and he laughed, and now.... Curse you -all! What shall I go home for? I am only -thirty.... Curse you all!"</p> - -<p>And I sobbed and sobbed, as I thought of -my dear legs, my fleet, strong legs. Who -took them away from me, who dared to take -them away!</p> - -<p>"Listen," said the doctor, looking aside. -"Yesterday I saw a mad soldier that came to -us. An enemy's soldier. He was stripped -almost naked, beaten and scratched and hungry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -as an animal, his hair was unkempt, as ours -is, and he resembled a savage, primitive man -or monkey. He waved his arms about, made -grimaces, sang and shouted and wanted to -fight. He was fed and driven out again—into -the open country. Where could we have kept -him? Days and nights they wander about the -hills, backwards and forwards in all directions, -keeping to no path, having no aim or resting-place, -all in tatters like ominous phantoms. They -wave their arms, laugh, shout and sing, and -when they come across anybody they begin to -fight, or, maybe, without noticing each other, -pass by. What do they eat? Probably -nothing, or, maybe, they feed on the dead -bodies together with the beasts, together with -those fat wild dogs, that fight in the hills and -yelp the whole night long. At night they -gather about the fires like monstrous moths or -birds awakened by a storm, and you need only -light a fire to have in less than half-an-hour a -dozen noisy, tattered wild shapes, resembling -chilled monkeys, gathering around it. Sometimes -they are fired at by mistake, sometimes -on purpose, for they make you lose all patience -with their unintelligible, terrifying cries...."</p> - -<p>"I want to go home!" cried I, shutting my -ears.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> - -<p>But new terrible words, sounding hollow and -phantom-like, as if they were passing through a -layer of wadding, kept hammering at my brain.</p> - -<p>"They are many. They die by hundreds -in the precipices and pitfalls, that are made -for sound and clever men, in the remnants of -the barbed wire and on the stakes; they take -part in the regular battles and fight like heroes—always -in the foremost ranks, always undaunted, -but often turn against their own men. -I like them. At present I am only beginning -to go mad, and that is why I am sitting and -talking to you, but when my senses leave me -entirely, I will go out into the open country—I -will go out into the open country, and I will -give a call—I will give a call, I will gather -those brave ones, those knights-errant, around -me, and declare war to the whole world. We -will enter the towns and villages in a joyous -crowd, with music and songs, leaving in our -wake a trail of red, in which everything will -whirl and dance like fire. Those that remain -alive will join us, and our brave army will grow -like an avalanche, and will cleanse the whole -world. Who said that one must not kill, burn -or rob?..."</p> - -<p>He was shouting now, that mad doctor, and -seemed to have awakened by his cries the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -slumbering pain of all those around him with -their ripped-open chests and sides, torn-out eyes -and cut-off legs. The ward filled with a broad, -rasping, crying groan, and from all sides pale, -yellow, exhausted faces, some eyeless, some so -monstrously mutilated that it seemed as if they -had returned from hell, turned towards us. And -they groaned and listened, and a black shapeless -shadow, risen up from the earth, peeped in -cautiously through the open door, while the mad -doctor went on shouting, stretching out his arms.</p> - -<p>"Who said one must not kill, burn, or rob? -We will kill and burn and rob. We, a joyous -careless band of braves, we will destroy all; -their buildings, universities and museums, and -merry as children, full of fiery laughter, we -will dance on the ruins. I will proclaim the -madhouse our fatherland; all those that have -not gone mad—our enemies and madmen; -and when I, great, unconquerable and joyous, -will begin to reign over the whole world, its -sole lord and master, what a glad laugh will -ring over the whole universe."</p> - -<p>"The red laugh!" cried I, interrupting him. -"Help. Again I hear the red laugh!"</p> - -<p>"Friends!" continued the doctor, addressing -himself to the groaning mutilated shadows. -"Friends! we shall have a red moon and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -red sun, and the animals will have a merry red -coat, and we will skin all those that are too -white—that are too white.... You have not -tasted blood? It is slightly sticky and slightly -warm, but it is red and has such a merry red -laugh!..."</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment VII</span></h3> - -<p>... It was godless and unlawful. The red -cross is respected by the whole world, as a -thing sacred, and they saw that it was a train -full of harmless wounded and not soldiers, and -they ought to have warned us of the mine. -The poor fellows, they were dreaming of -home....</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment VIII</span></h3> - -<p>... Around a samovar, around a real samovar, -out of which the steam was rising as out -of an engine—the glass on the lamp had even -grown dim, there was so much steam. And -the cups were the same, blue outside and white -inside, very pretty little cups, a wedding present. -My wife's sister gave them—she is a -very kind and good woman.</p> - -<p>"Is it possible they are all whole?" asked I, -incredulously, mixing the sugar in my glass -with a clean silver spoon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -"One was broken," said my wife, absently; -she was holding the tap open just then and -the water was running out easily and prettily.</p> - -<p>I laughed.</p> - -<p>"What's it about?" asked my brother.</p> - -<p>"Oh, nothing. Wheel me into the study -just once more. You may as well trouble -yourself for the sake of a hero. You idled -away your time while I was away, but now -that is over. I'll bring you to order," and -I began singing, as a joke of course,—"My -friends, we're bravely hurrying towards the -foe...."</p> - -<p>They understood the joke and smiled, only -my wife did not lift up her face, she was -wiping the cups with a clean embroidered -cloth. And in the study I saw once again the -light-blue wall-paper, a lamp with a green shade -and a table with a water-bottle upon it. And -it was a little dusty.</p> - -<p>"Pour me some water out of this," ordered -I, merrily.</p> - -<p>"But you've just had tea."</p> - -<p>"That doesn't matter, pour me out some. -And you," said I to my wife, "take our son -and go into the next room for a minute. -Please."</p> - -<p>And I drank the water with delight in small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -sips, while my wife and son were in the next -room, and I could not see them.</p> - -<p>"That's all right. Now come here. But -why is he not in bed by this time?"</p> - -<p>"He is so glad you have come home. -Darling, go to your father."</p> - -<p>But the child began to cry and hid himself -at his mother's feet.</p> - -<p>"Why is he crying?" asked I, in perplexity, -and looked around, "why are you all so pale -and silent, following me like shadows?"</p> - -<p>My brother burst into a loud laugh and said, -"We are not silent."</p> - -<p>And my sister said, "We are talking the -whole time."</p> - -<p>"I will go and see about the supper," said -my mother, and hurriedly left the room.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you are silent," I repeated, with -sudden conviction. "Since morning I have -not heard a word from you; I am the only -one who chats, laughs, and makes merry. -Are you not glad to see me then? And why do -you all avoid looking at me? Have I changed -so? Yes, I am changed. But I do not see -any looking-glasses about. Have you put them -all away? Give me a looking-glass."</p> - -<p>"I will bring you one directly," answered my -wife, and did not come back for a long time,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -and the looking-glass was brought by the maid. -I looked into it, and—I had seen myself before -in the train, at the station—it was the same -face, grown older a little, but the most ordinary -face. While they, I believe, expected me to -cry out and faint—so glad were they when I -asked calmly,—</p> - -<p>"What is there so unusual in me?"</p> - -<p>Laughing louder and louder, my sister left -the room hurriedly, and my brother said with -calm assurance: "Yes, you have not changed -much, only grown slightly bald."</p> - -<p>"You can be thankful that my head is not -broken," answered I, unconcernedly. "But -where do they all disappear?—first one, then -another. Wheel me about the rooms, please. -What a comfortable armchair, it does not make -the slightest sound. How much did it cost? -You bet I won't spare the money: I will buy -myself such a pair of legs, better.... My -bicycle!"</p> - -<p>It was hanging on the wall, quite new, only -the tyres were limp for want of pumping. A -tiny bit of mud had dried to the tyre of the -back wheel—the last time I had ridden it. -My brother was silent and did not move my -chair, and I understood his silence and irresoluteness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Only four officers remained alive in our -regiment," said I, surlily. "I am very lucky.... -You can take it for yourself—take it -away to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"All right, I will take it," agreed my brother -submissively. "Yes, you are lucky. Half of -the town is in mourning. While legs—that is -really...."</p> - -<p>"Of course I am not a postman."</p> - -<p>My brother stopped suddenly and asked,—</p> - -<p>"But why does your head shake?"</p> - -<p>"That's nothing. The doctor said it will -pass."</p> - -<p>"And your hands too?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes. And my hands too. It will all -pass. Wheel me on, please, I am tired of -remaining still."</p> - -<p>They upset me, those discontented people, -but my gladness returned to me when they -began making my bed; a real bed, a handsome -bed, that I had bought just before our wedding -four years ago. They spread a clean sheet, -then they shook the pillows and turned down -the blanket, while I watched the solemn proceedings, -my eyes full of tears with laughing.</p> - -<p>"And now undress me and put me to bed," -said I to my wife. "How good it is!"</p> - -<p>"This minute, dear."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Quicker!"</p> - -<p>"This minute, dear."</p> - -<p>"Why; what are you doing?"</p> - -<p>"This minute, dear."</p> - -<p>She was standing behind my back, near the -toilette table, and I vainly tried to turn my -head so as to see her. And suddenly she gave -a cry, such a cry as one hears only at the war,—</p> - -<p>"What does it all mean?"</p> - -<p>She rushed towards me, put her arms round -me, and fell down, hiding her head near the -stumps of my cut-off legs, from which she -turned away with horror, and again pressed -herself against them, kissing them, and crying,—</p> - -<p>"What have you become? Why, you are -only thirty years old. You were young and -handsome. What does it all mean? How -cruel men are. What is it for? For whom is -it necessary? You, my gentle, poor darling, -darling...."</p> - -<p>At her cry they all ran up—my mother, -sister, nurse—and they all began crying and -saying something or other, and fell at my feet -wailing. While on the threshold stood my -brother, pale, terribly pale, with a trembling -jaw, and cried out in a high-pitched voice,—</p> - -<p>"I shall go mad with you all. I shall go mad!"</p> - -<p>While my mother grovelled at my chair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -and had not the strength to cry, but only -gasped, beating her head against the wheels. -And there stood the clean bed with the well-shaken -pillows and turned-down blanket, the -same bed that I bought just before our -wedding four years ago....</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment IX</span></h3> - -<p>... I was sitting in a warm bath, while -my brother was pacing up and down the small -room in a troubled manner, sitting down, getting -up again, catching hold of the soap and towel, -bringing them close up to his short-sighted -eyes and again putting them back in their places. -At last he stood up with his face to the wall -and picking at the plaster with his finger, continued -hotly.</p> - -<p>"Judge for yourself: one cannot teach people -mercy, sense, logic—teach them to act consciously -for tens and hundreds of years running -with impunity. And, in particular, to act -consciously. One can become merciless, lose -all sensitiveness, get accustomed to blood and -tears and pain—for instance butchers, and some -doctors and officers do, but how can one renounce -truth, after one has learnt to know it? In my -opinion it is impossible. I was taught from -infancy not to torture animals and be com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>passionate; -all the books that I read told me -the same, and I am painfully sorry for all those -that suffer at your cursed war. But time passes, -and I am beginning to get accustomed to all -those deaths, sufferings and all this blood; I feel -that I am getting less sensitive, less responsive -in my everyday life and respond only to great -stimulants, but I cannot get accustomed to -war; my brain refuses to understand and -explain a thing that is senseless in its basis. -Millions of people gather at one place and, -giving their actions order and regularity, kill -each other, and it hurts everybody equally, and -all are unhappy—what is it if not madness?" -My brother turned round and looked at me -inquiringly with his short-sighted, artless eyes.</p> - -<p>"The red laugh," said I merrily, splashing -about.</p> - -<p>"I will tell you the truth," and my -brother put his cold hand trustingly on my -shoulder, but quickly pulled it back, as if he -was frightened at its being naked and wet. -"I will tell you the truth; I am very much -afraid of going mad. I cannot understand -what is happening. I cannot understand it, and -it is dreadful. If only anybody could explain -it to me, but nobody can. You were at the -front, you saw it all—explain it to me."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Deuce take you," answered I jokingly, -splashing about.</p> - -<p>"There, and you too," said my brother, -sadly. "Nobody is capable of helping me. -It's dreadful. And I am beginning to lose -all understanding of what is permissible and -what is not, what has sense and what is senseless. -If I were to seize you suddenly by the -throat, at first gently, as if caressing you, and -then firmly, and strangle you, what would -that be?"</p> - -<p>"You are talking nonsense. Nobody does -such things."</p> - -<p>My brother rubbed his cold hands, smiled -softly, and continued,—</p> - -<p>"When you were away there were nights -when I did not sleep, could not sleep, and strange -ideas entered my head—to take a hatchet, for -instance, and go and kill everybody—mother, -sister, the servants, our dog. Of course they -were only fancies, and I would never do so."</p> - -<p>"I should hope not," smiled I, splashing about.</p> - -<p>"Then, again, I am afraid of knives, of all -that is sharp and shining; it seems to me that -if I were to take up a knife I should certainly -kill somebody with it. Now, is it not true—why -should I not plunge it into somebody, if -it were sharp enough?"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> - -<p>"The argument is sufficient. What a queer -fellow you are, brother! Just open the hot-water -tap."</p> - -<p>My brother opened the tap, let in some hot -water, and continued,—</p> - -<p>"Then, again, I am afraid of crowds—of -men, when many of them gather together. -When of an evening I hear a noise in the -street—a loud shout, for instance—I start -and believe that ... a massacre has begun. -When several men stand together, and I cannot -hear what they are talking about, it seems -to me that they will suddenly cry out, fall -upon each other, and blood will flow. And -you know"—he bent mysteriously towards -my ear—"the papers are full of murders—strange -murders. It is all nonsense that -there are as many brains as there are men; -mankind has only one intellect, and it is beginning -to get muddled. Just feel my head, -how hot it is. It is on fire. And sometimes -it gets cold, and everything freezes in it, grows -benumbed, and changes into a terrible dead-like -piece of ice. I must go mad; don't -laugh, brother, I must go mad. A quarter -of an hour has passed, it's time for you to -get out of your bath."</p> - -<p>"A little bit more. Just a minute."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> - -<p>It was so good to be sitting again in that -bath and listening to the well-known voice, -without reflecting upon the words, and to see all -the familiar, simple and ordinary things around -me: the brass, slightly-green tap, the walls, -with the familiar pattern, and all the photographic -outfit laid out in order upon the -shelves. I would take up photography again, -take simple, peaceful landscapes and portraits -of my son walking, laughing and playing. One -could do that without legs. And I would take -up my writing again—about clever books, the -progress of human thought, beauty, and peace.</p> - -<p>"Ho, ho, ho!" roared I, splashing about.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter with you?" asked my -brother, growing pale and full of fear.</p> - -<p>"Nothing. I am glad to be home."</p> - -<p>He smiled at me as one smiles at a child -or on one younger than oneself, although I was -three years older than he, and grew thoughtful, -like a grown-up person or an old man who -has great, burdensome old thoughts.</p> - -<p>"Where can one fly to?" he asked, shrugging -his shoulders. "Every day, at about -the same hour, the papers close the circuit, -and all mankind gets a shock. This simultaneousness -of feelings, tears, thoughts, sufferings -and horror deprives me of all stay, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -I am like a chip of wood tossing about on -the waves, or a bit of dust in a whirlwind. -I am forcibly torn away from all that is -habitual, and there is one terrible moment -every morning, when I seem to hang in the air -over the black abyss of insanity. And I shall -fall into it, I must fall into it. You don't know -all, brother. You don't read the papers, and -much is held back from you—you don't know -all, brother."</p> - -<p>I took all his words for rather a gloomy -joke—the usual attitude towards all those -who, being touched by insanity, have an -inkling of the insanity of war, and gave us -a warning. I considered it as a joke, as if -I had forgotten for the moment, while I was -splashing about in the hot water, all that I -had seen over there. "Well, let them hold -things back from me, but I must get out of -the bath, anyway," said I lightly, and my -brother smiled and called my man, and together -they lifted me out of my bath and -dressed me. Afterwards I had some fragrant -tea, which I drank out of my cut-glass tumbler, -and said to myself that life was worth living even -without a pair of legs; and then they wheeled -me into the study up to my table and I prepared -for work.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> - -<p>Before the war I was on the staff of a journal, -reviewing foreign literature, and now, disposed -within my reach, lay a heap of those dear, -sweet books in yellow, blue and brown covers. -My joy was so great, my delight so profound, -that I could not make up my mind to begin -reading them, and I merely fingered the books, -passing my hand caressingly over them. I -felt a smile spread over my face, most probably -a very silly smile, but I could not keep it back, -as I contemplated admiringly the type, the -vignettes, the severe beautiful simplicity of -the drawings. How much thought and sense -of beauty there was in them all! How many -people had to work and search, how much -talent and taste were needed to bring forth that -letter, for instance, so simple and elegant, so -clever, harmonious and eloquent in its interlaced -lines.</p> - -<p>"And now I must set to work," said I, -seriously, full of respect for work.</p> - -<p>And I took up my pen to write the heading -and, like a frog tied to a string, my hand began -plunging about the paper. The pen stuck into -the paper, scratched it, jerked about, slipped -irresistibly aside, and brought forth hideous -lines, broken, crooked, devoid of all sense. -And I did not cry out or move, I grew cold<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -and still as the approaching terrible truth -dawned upon me; while my hand danced over -the brightly illuminated paper, and each finger -shook in such hopeless, living, insane horror, as -if they, those fingers, were still at the front and -saw the conflagrations and blood, and heard -the groans and cries of undescribable pain. -They had detached themselves from me, those -madly quivering fingers, they were alive, they -had become ears and eyes; and, growing cold -from horror, without the strength to move or cry -out, I watched their wild dance over the clean, -bright white page.</p> - -<p>And all was quiet. They thought I was -working, and had shut all the doors, so as not -to interrupt me by any sound—and I was alone -in the room, deprived of the power of moving, -obediently watching my shaking hands.</p> - -<p>"It is nothing," said I aloud, and in the stillness -and loneliness of the study my voice sounded -hollow and nasty like the voice of a madman. -"It is nothing. I will dictate. Why, Milton -was blind when he wrote his <i>Paradise Regained</i>. -I can think, and that is the chief thing, in fact -it is all."</p> - -<p>And I began inventing a long clever phrase -about the blind Milton, but the words got confused, -fell away as out of a rotten printing frame,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -and when I came to the end of the phrase I -had forgotten the beginning. Then I tried to -remember what made me begin, and why I was -inventing that strange senseless phrase about -Milton, and could not.</p> - -<p>"<i>Paradise Regained, Paradise Regained</i>," -I repeated, and could not understand what it -meant.</p> - -<p>And then I saw that I often forgot very many -things, that I had become strangely absent-minded, -and confused familiar faces; that I -forgot words even in a simple conversation, and -sometimes, remembering a word, I could not -understand its meaning. And I clearly pictured -to myself my daily existence. A strange short -day, cut off like my legs, with empty mysterious -spaces, long hours of unconsciousness or apathy, -about which I could remember nothing.</p> - -<p>I wanted to call my wife, but could not -remember her name—and this did not surprise -or frighten me. Softly I whispered,—</p> - -<p>"Wife!"</p> - -<p>The incoherent, unusual word sounded softly -and died away without bringing any response. -And all was quiet. They were afraid of disturbing -me at my work by any careless sound, -and all was quiet—a perfect study for a savant—cosy, -quiet, disposing one to meditation and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -creative energy. "Dear ones, how solicitous -they are of me!" I thought tenderly.</p> - -<p>... And inspiration, sacred inspiration, -came to me. The sun burst forth in my head, -and its burning creative rays darted over the -whole world, dropping flowers and songs—flowers -and songs. And I wrote on through -the whole night, feeling no exhaustion, but -soaring freely on the wings of mighty, sacred -inspiration. I was writing something great—something -immortal—flowers and songs—flowers -and songs....</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="p6"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> - - - - -<h2>PART II</h2> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment X</span></h3></div> - -<p>... Happily he died last week on Friday. -I say "happily," and repeat that my brother's -death was a great blessing to him. A cripple -with no legs, palsied, with a smitten soul, he -was terrible and piteous in his senseless creative -ecstasy. Ever since that night he wrote for -two months, without leaving his chair, refusing -all food, weeping and scolding whenever -we wheeled him away from his table even for a -short time. He moved his dry pen over the -paper with wonderful rapidity, throwing aside -page after page, and kept on writing and -writing. Sleep deserted him, and only twice -did we succeed in putting him to bed for a few -hours, thanks to a strong narcotic, but, later, -even a narcotic was powerless to conquer his -senseless creative ecstasy. At his order the -curtains were kept drawn over all the windows -the whole day long and the lamp was allowed -to burn, giving the illusion of night, while he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -wrote on, smoking one cigarette after another. -Apparently he was happy, and I never happened -to meet any healthy person with such an inspired -face—the face of a prophet or of a great -poet. He became extremely emaciated, with -the waxen transparency of a corpse or of an -ascetic, and his hair grew quite grey; he began -his senseless work a comparatively young man, -but finished it an old one. Sometimes he -hurried on his work, writing more than usual, -and his pen would stick into the pages and -break, but he never noticed it; at such times -one durst not touch him, for at the slightest -contact he was overtaken by fits of tears and -laughter; but sometimes, very rarely, he rested -blissfully from his work and talked to me -affably, each time asking the same questions: -Who was I, what was my name, and since when -had I taken up literature.</p> - -<p>And then he would condescendingly tell, -always using the same words, what an absurd -fright he had had at the thought that he had -lost his memory and was incapable of work, and -how splendidly he had refuted the insane supposition -there and then by beginning his great -immortal work about the flowers and songs.</p> - -<p>"Of course I do not count upon being -recognised by my contemporaries," he would<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -say proudly and unassumingly at the same time, -putting his trembling hand on the heap of empty -sheets, "but the future—the future—will understand -my idea."</p> - -<p>He never once remembered the war or his -wife and son; the mirage of his endless work -engrossed his attention so undividedly that it is -doubtful whether he was conscious of anything -else. One could walk and talk in his presence—he -noticed nothing, and not for an instant did -his face lose its expression of terrible tension -and inspiration. In the stillness of the night, -when everybody was asleep and he alone wove -untiringly the endless thread of insanity, he -seemed terrible, and only his mother and I -ventured to approach him. Once I tried to -give him a pencil instead of his dry pen, thinking -that perhaps he really wrote something, but -on the paper there remained only hideous lines, -broken, crooked, devoid of any sense. And he -died in the night at his work. I knew my brother -well, and his insanity did not come as a surprise -to me: the passionate dream of work that -filled all his letters from the war and was the -stay of his life after his return, had to come -into inevitable collision with the impotence of -his exhausted, tortured brain, and bring about -the catastrophe. And I believe that I have suc<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>ceeded -in reconstructing with sufficient accuracy -the successive feelings that brought him to the -end during that fatal night. Generally speaking, -all that I have written down concerning -the war is founded upon the words of my -dead brother, often very confused and incoherent; -only a few separate episodes were burnt -into his brain so deeply and indelibly that I -could cite the very words that he used in telling -me them. I loved him, and his death weighs -upon me like a stone, oppressing my brain by -its senselessness. It has added one more loop -to the incomprehensible that envelops my head -like a web, and has drawn it tight. The -whole family has left for the country on a visit -to some relatives, and I am alone in the house—the -house that my brother loved so. The -servants have been paid off, and only the -porter from the next door comes every morning -to light the fires, while the rest of the time I -am alone, and resemble a fly caught between -two window-frames,<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> plunging about and knocking -myself against a transparent but insurmountable -obstacle. And I feel, I know, that -I shall never leave the house. Now, when I -am alone, the war possesses me wholly and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -stands before me like an inscrutable mystery, -like a terrible spirit, to which I can give no -form. I give it all sorts of shapes: of a -headless skeleton on horseback, of a shapeless -shadow, born in a black thundercloud, -mutely enveloping the earth, but not one of -them can give me an answer and extinguish the -cold, constant, blunt horror that possesses me.</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> -<p class="p2"><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> In Russia the windows have double panes during the -winter for the purpose of keeping out the cold.—<i>Trans.</i></p></div> - -<p class="p2">I do not understand war, and I must go mad, -like my brother, like the hundreds of men that -are sent back from there. And this does not -terrify me. The loss of reason seems to me -honourable, like the death of a sentry at his -post. But the expectancy, the slow and infallible -approach of madness, the instantaneous -feeling of something enormous falling into -an abyss, the unbearable pain of tortured -thought.... My heart has grown benumbed, -it is dead, and there is no new life -for it, but thought—is still alive, still struggling, -once mighty as Samson, but now helpless and -weak as a child, and—I am sorry for my poor -thought. There are moments when I cannot -endure the torture of those iron clasps that are -compressing my brain; I feel an irrepressible -longing to run out into the street, into the marketplace, -where there are people and cry out,—</p> - -<p>"Stop the war this instant—or else...."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> - -<p>But what "else" is there? Are there any -words that can make them come to their -senses? Words, in answer to which one cannot -find just such other loud and lying words? Or -must I fall upon my knees before them and -burst into tears? But then, hundreds of -thousands are making the earth resound with -their weeping, but does that change anything? -Or, perhaps, kill myself before them all? Kill -myself. Thousands are dying every day, but -does that change anything?</p> - -<p>And when I feel my impotence, I am seized -with rage—the rage of war, which I hate. -Like the doctor, I long to burn down their -houses with all their treasures, their wives and -children; to poison the water which they drink; -to raise all the killed from their graves and throw -the corpses into their unclean houses on to -their beds. Let them sleep with them as with -their wives or mistresses!</p> - -<p>Oh, if only I were the Devil! I would transplant -all the horrors that hell exhales on to their -earth. I would become the lord of all their -dreams, and, when they cross their children -with a smile before falling asleep, I would rise -up before them a black vision.... Yes, I -must go mad—only let it come quicker—let -it come quicker....</p> - -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment XI</span></h3> - -<p>... Prisoners, a group of trembling, terrified -men. When they were led out of the train -the crowd gave a roar—the roar of an enormous -savage dog, whose chain is too short and not -strong enough. The crowd gave a roar and -was silent, breathing deeply, while they advanced -in a compact group with their hands in -their pockets, smiling with their white lips as if -currying favour, and stepping out in such a -manner as if somebody was just going to strike -them with a long stick under their knees from -behind. But one of them walked at a short -distance from the others, calm, serious, without -a smile, and when my eyes met his black ones -I saw bare open hatred in them. I saw clearly -that he despised me and thought me capable of -anything; if I were to begin killing him, unarmed -as he was, he would not have cried out or -tried to defend or right himself—he considered -me capable of anything.</p> - -<p>I ran along together with the crowd, to meet -his gaze once more, and only succeeded as they -were entering a house. He went in the last, -letting his companions pass before him, and -glanced at me once more. And then I saw -such pain, such an abyss of horror and insanity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -in his big black eyes, as if I had looked into -the most wretched soul on earth.</p> - -<p>"Who is that with the eyes?" I asked of a -soldier of the escort.</p> - -<p>"An officer—a madman. There are many -such."</p> - -<p>"What is his name?"</p> - -<p>"He does not say. And his countrymen -don't know him. A stranger they picked up. -He has been saved from hanging himself once -already, but what is there to be done!" ... -and the soldier made a vague gesture and disappeared -in the door.</p> - -<p>And now, this evening I am thinking of him. -He is alone amidst the enemy, who, in his -opinion, are capable of doing anything with him, -and his own people do not know him. He -keeps silence and waits patiently for the -moment when he will be able to go out of this -world altogether. I do not believe that he is -mad, and he is no coward; he was the only -one who held himself with dignity in that group -of trembling, terrified men, whom apparently -he does not regard as his own people. What is -he thinking about? What a depth of despair -must be in the soul of that man, who, dying, -does not wish to name himself. Why give his -name? He has done with life and men, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -has grasped their real value and notices none -around him, either his own people or strangers, -shout, rage and threaten as they will. I made -inquiries about him. He was taken in the last -terrible battle, during which several tens of -thousands of men lost their lives, and he -showed no resistance when he was being taken -prisoner; he was unarmed for some reason or -other, and, when the soldier, not having noticed -it, struck him with his sword, he did not get up -or try to act in self-defence. But the wound, -unhappily for him, was a slight one.</p> - -<p>But, maybe, he is really mad? The soldier -said there were many such....</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment XII</span></h3> - -<p>... It is beginning. When I entered my -brother's study yesterday evening he was -sitting in his armchair at his table heaped -with books. The hallucination disappeared -the moment I lighted a candle, but for a -long time I could not bring myself to sit -down in the armchair that he had occupied. -At first it was terrifying—the empty rooms in -which one was constantly hearing rustlings and -crackings were the cause of this dread, but -afterwards I even liked it—better he than somebody -else. Nevertheless, I did not leave the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -armchair the whole evening; it seemed to me -that if I were to get up he would instantly sit -down in my place. And I left the room very -quickly without looking round. The lamps -ought to have been lit in all the rooms, but -was it worth while? It would have been -perhaps worse if I had seen anything by lamp-light—as -it was, there was still room for doubt.</p> - -<p>To-day I entered with a candle and there -was nobody in the armchair. Evidently it must -have been only a shadow. Again I went to the -station—I go there every morning now—and -saw a whole carriage full of our mad soldiers. -It was not opened, but shunted on to another -line, and I had time to see several faces through -the windows. They were terrible, especially -one. Fearfully drawn, the colour of a lemon, -with an open black mouth and fixed eyes, it -was so like a mask of horror that I could not -tear my eyes away from it. And it stared at -me, the whole of it, and was motionless, and -glided past together with the moving carriage, -just as motionless, without the slightest change, -never transferring its gaze for an instant. If it -were to appear before me this minute in that -dark door, I do not believe I should be able -to hold out. I made inquiries: there were -twenty-two men. The infection is spreading.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -The papers are hushing up something and, I -believe, there is something wrong in our town -too. Black, closely-shut carriages have made -their appearance—I counted six during one -day in different parts of the town. I suppose -I shall also go off in one of them one of these -days.</p> - -<p>And the papers clamour for fresh troops and -more blood every day, and I am beginning to -understand less and less what it all means. -Yesterday I read an article full of suspicion, -stating that there were many spies and traitors -amongst the people, warning us to be cautious -and mindful, and that the wrath of the people -would not fail to find out the guilty. What -guilty, and guilty of what? As I was returning -from the station in the tram, I heard a strange -conversation, I suppose in reference to the -same article.</p> - -<p>"They ought to be all hung without any -trial," said one, looking scrutinisingly at me -and all the passengers. "Traitors ought to be -hung, yes."</p> - -<p>"Without any mercy," confirmed the other. -"They've been shown mercy enough!"</p> - -<p>I jumped out of the tram. The war was -making everybody shed tears, and they were -crying too—why, what did it mean? A bloody<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -mist seemed to have enveloped the earth, -hiding it from our gaze, and I was beginning -to think that the moment of the universal catastrophe -was approaching. The red laugh that -my brother saw. The madness was coming -from over there, from those bloody burnt-out -fields, and I felt its cold breath in the air. I -am a strong man and have none of those illnesses -that corrupt the body, bringing in -their train the corruption of the brain also, -but I see the infection catching me, and half of -my thoughts belong to me no longer. It is -worse than the plague and its horrors. One -can hide from the plague, take measures, but -how can one hide from all-penetrating thought, -that knows neither distances nor obstacles?</p> - -<p>In the daytime I can still fight against it, but -during the night I become, as everybody else -does, the slave of my dreams—and my dreams -are terrible and full of madness....</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment XIII</span></h3> - -<p>... Universal mob-fights, senseless and -sanguinary. The slightest provocation gives -rise to the most savage club-law, knives, stones, -logs of wood coming into action, and it is all -the same who is being killed—red blood asks to -be let loose, and flows willingly and plentifully.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -There were six of them, all peasants, and -they were being led by three soldiers with -loaded guns. In their quaint peasant's dress, -simple and primitive like a savage's, with their -quaint countenances, that seemed as if made -of clay and adorned with felted wool instead of -hair, in the streets of a rich town, under the -escort of disciplined soldiers—they resembled -slaves of the antique world. They were being -led off to the war, and they moved along in -obedience to the bayonets as innocent and dull -as cattle led to the slaughter-house. In front -walked a youth, tall, beardless, with a long -goose neck, at the end of which was a motionless -little head. His whole body was bent forward -like a switch, and he stared at the ground -under his feet so fixedly as if his gaze penetrated -into the very depths of the earth. The last in -the group was a man of small stature, bearded -and middle-aged; he had no desire of resistance, -and there was no thought in his eyes, but the -earth attracted his feet, gripped them tightly, -not letting them loose, and he advanced with -his body thrown back, as if struggling against -a strong wind. And at each step the soldier -gave him a push with the butt-end of his rifle, -and one leg, tearing itself from the earth, convulsively -thrust itself forward, while the other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -still stuck tightly. The faces of the soldiers -were weary and angry, and evidently they had -been marching so for a long time; one felt they -were tired and indifferent as to how they -carried their guns and how they marched, keeping -no step, with their feet turned in like -countrymen. The senseless, lingering and -silent resistance of the peasants seemed to have -dimmed their disciplined brains, and they had -ceased to understand where they were going -and what their goal was.</p> - -<p>"Where are you leading them to?" I asked -of one of the soldiers. He started, glanced at me, -and in the keen flash of his eyes I felt the bayonet -as distinctly as if it were already at my breast.</p> - -<p>"Go away!" said the soldier; "go away, or -else...."</p> - -<p>The middle-aged man took advantage of the -moment and ran away; he ran with a light trot -up to the iron railings of the boulevard and sat -down on his heels, as if he were hiding. No -animal would have acted so stupidly, so senselessly. -But the soldier became savage. I -saw him go close up to him, stoop down and, -thrusting his gun into the left hand, strike -something soft and flat with the right one. -And then again. A crowd was gathering. -Laughter and shouts were heard....</p> - -<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment XIV</span></h3> - -<p>... In the eleventh row of stalls. Somebody's -arms were pressing closely against me -on my right- and left-hand side, while far -around me in the semi-darkness stuck out -motionless heads, tinged with red from the -lights upon the stage. And gradually the -mass of people, confined in that narrow space, -filled me with horror. Everybody was silent, -listening to what was being said on the stage -or, perhaps, thinking out his own thoughts, -but as they were many, they were more audible, -for all their silence, than the loud voices of the -actors. They were coughing, blowing their -noses, making a noise with their feet and -clothes, and I could distinctly hear their deep, -uneven breathing, that was heating the air. -They were terrible, for each of them could -become a corpse, and they all had senseless -brains. In the calmness of those well-brushed -heads, resting upon white, stiff collars, I felt a -hurricane of madness ready to burst every -second.</p> - -<p>My hands grew cold as I thought how -many and how terrible they were, and how far -away I was from the entrance. They were -calm, but what if I were to cry out "Fire!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -... And full of terror, I experienced a painfully -passionate desire, of which I cannot think -without my hands growing cold and moist. -Who could hinder me from crying out—yes, -standing up, turning round and crying out: -"Fire! Save yourselves—fire!"</p> - -<p>A convulsive wave of madness would overwhelm -their still limbs. They would jump up, -yelling and howling like animals; they would -forget that they had wives, sisters, mothers, -and would begin casting themselves about like -men stricken with sudden blindness, in their -madness throttling each other with their white -fingers fragrant with scent. The lights would -be turned on, and somebody with an ashen -face would appear upon the stage, shouting -that all was in order and that there was no fire, -and the music, trembling and halting, would -begin playing something wildly merry—but -they would be deaf to everything—they would -be throttling, trampling, and beating the heads -of the women, demolishing their ingenious, -cunning head-dresses. They would tear at -each other's ears, bite off each other's noses, -and tear the very clothes off each other's -bodies, feeling no shame, for they would be -mad. Their sensitive, delicate, beautiful, -adorable women would scream and writhe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -helplessly at their feet, clasping their knees, -still believing in their generosity—while they -would beat them viciously upon their beautiful -upturned faces, trying to force their way -towards the entrance. For men are always -murderers, and their calmness and generosity -is the calmness of a well-fed animal, that knows -itself out of danger.</p> - -<p>And when, having made corpses of half their -number, they would gather at the entrance in -a trembling, tattered group of shamefaced -animals, with a false smile upon their lips, I -would go on to the stage and say with a laugh,—</p> - -<p>"It has all happened because you killed my -brother." Yes, I would say with a laugh: "It -has all happened because you killed my brother."</p> - -<p>I must have whispered something aloud, for -my neighbour on the right-hand side moved -angrily in his chair and said,—</p> - -<p>"Hush! You are interrupting."</p> - -<p>I felt merry and wanted to play a joke. -Assuming a warning severe expression, I -stooped towards him.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" he asked suspiciously. -"Why do you look at me so?"</p> - -<p>"Hush, I implore you," whispered I with -my lips. "Do you not perceive a smell of -burning? There is a fire in the theatre."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -He had enough power of will and good -sense not to cry out. His face grew pale, his -eyes starting out of their sockets and almost -protruding over his cheeks, enormous as -bladders, but he did not cry out. He rose -quietly and, without even thanking me, walked -totteringly towards the entrance, convulsively -keeping back his steps. He was afraid of the -others guessing about the fire and preventing -him getting away—him, the only one worthy -of being saved.</p> - -<p>I felt disgusted and left the theatre also; -besides I did not want to make known my -<i>incognito</i> too soon. In the street I looked -towards that part of the sky where the war -was raging; everything was calm, and the -night clouds, yellow from the lights of the -town, were slowly and calmly drifting past.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps it is only a dream, and there is no -war?" thought I, deceived by the stillness of -the sky and town.</p> - -<p>But a boy sprang out from behind a corner, -crying joyously,—</p> - -<p>"A terrible battle. Enormous losses. Buy -a list of telegrams—night telegrams!"</p> - -<p>I read it by the light of the street lamp. -Four thousand dead. In the theatre, I should -say, there were not more than one thousand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -And the whole way home I kept repeating—"Four -thousand dead."</p> - -<p>Now I am afraid of returning to my empty -house. When I put my key into the lock and -look at the dumb, flat door, I can feel all its -dark empty rooms behind it, which, however, -the next minute, a man in a hat would pass -through, looking furtively around him. I know -the way well, but on the stairs I begin lighting -match after match, until I find a candle. I -never enter my brother's study, and it is locked -with all that it contains. And I sleep in the -dining-room, whither I have shifted altogether: -there I feel calmer, for the air seems to have -still retained the traces of talking and laughter -and the merry clang of dishes. Sometimes I -distinctly hear the scraping of a dry pen—and -when I lay down on my bed....</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment XV</span></h3> - -<p>... That absurd and terrible dream. It -seemed as if the skull had been taken off my -brain and, bared and unprotected, it submissively -and greedily imbibed all the horrors of -those bloody and senseless days. I was lying -curled up, occupying only five feet of space, -while my thought embraced the whole world. I -saw with the eyes of all mankind, and listened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -with its ears; I died with the killed, sorrowed -and wept with all that were wounded and left -behind, and, when blood flowed out of anybody's -body, I felt the pain of the wound and -suffered. Even all that had not happened -and was far away, I saw as clearly as if it had -happened and was close by, and there was no -end to the sufferings of my bared brain.</p> - -<p>Those children, those innocent little children. -I saw them in the street playing at war and -chasing each other, and one of them was -already crying in a high-pitched, childish -voice—and something shrank within me from -horror and disgust. And I went home; night -came on—and in fiery dreams, resembling -midnight conflagrations, those innocent little -children changed into a band of child-murderers.</p> - -<p>Something was ominously burning in a -broad red glare, and in the smoke there -swarmed monstrous, misshapen children, with -heads of grown-up murderers. They were -jumping lightly and nimbly, like young goats -at play, and were breathing with difficulty, -like sick people. Their mouths, resembling the -jaws of toads or frogs, opened widely and -convulsively; behind the transparent skin of -their naked bodies the red blood was coursing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -angrily—and they were killing each other at -play. They were the most terrible of all that -I had seen, for they were little and could -penetrate everywhere.</p> - -<p>I was looking out of the window and one of -the little ones noticed me, smiled, and with his -eyes asked me to let him in.</p> - -<p>"I want to go to you," he said.</p> - -<p>"You will kill me."</p> - -<p>"I want to go to you," he said, growing -suddenly pale, and began scrambling up the -white wall like a rat—just like a hungry rat. -He kept losing his footing, and squealed and -darted about the wall with such rapidity, that -I could not follow his impetuous, sudden -movements.</p> - -<p>"He can crawl in under the door," said I to -myself with horror, and as if he had guessed -my thought, he grew thin and long and, -waving the end of his tail rapidly, he crawled -into the dark crack under the front door. But -I had time to hide myself under the blanket, -and heard him searching for me in the dark -rooms, cautiously stepping along with his tiny -bare feet. He approached my room very -slowly, stopping now and then, and at last -entered it; but I did not hear any sound, -either rustle or movement for a long time, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -if there was nobody near my bed. And then -somebody's little hand began lifting up the -edge of the coverlet, and I could feel the cold -air of the room upon my face and chest. I -held the blanket tightly, but it persisted in lifting -itself up on all sides; and all of a sudden -my feet became so cold, as if I had dipped -them into water. Now they were lying unprotected -in the chill darkness of the room, -and he was looking at them.</p> - -<p>In the yard, behind the house, a dog barked -and was silent, and I heard the trail of its -chain as it went into its kennel. But he still -watched my naked feet and kept silence; I -knew he was there by the unendurable horror -that was binding me like death with a stony, -sepulchral immobility. If I could have cried -out, I would have awakened the whole town, -the whole world, but my voice was dead -within me, and I lay submissive and motionless, -feeling the little cold hands moving over my -body and nearing my throat.</p> - -<p>"I cannot!" I groaned, gasping and, waking -up for an instant, I saw the vigilant darkness -of the night, mysterious and living, and again -I believe I fell asleep....</p> - -<p>"Don't fear," said my brother, sitting down -upon my bed, and the bed creaked, so heavy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -he was dead. "Never fear, you see it is a -dream. You only imagine that you were being -strangled, while in reality you are asleep in the -dark rooms, where there is not a soul, and I -am in my study writing. Nobody understood -what I wrote about, and you derided me as one -insane, but now I will tell you the truth. I am -writing about the red laugh. Do you see it?"</p> - -<p>Something enormous, red and bloody, was -standing before me, laughing a toothless laugh.</p> - -<p>"That is the red laugh. When the earth -goes mad, it begins to laugh like that. You -know, the earth has gone mad. There are no -more flowers or songs on it; it has become -round, smooth and red like a scalped head. -Do you see it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I see it. It is laughing."</p> - -<p>"Look what its brain is like. It is red, like -bloody porridge, and is muddled."</p> - -<p>"It is crying out."</p> - -<p>"It is in pain. It has no flowers or songs. -And now—let me lie down upon you."</p> - -<p>"You are heavy and I am afraid."</p> - -<p>"We, the dead, lie down on the living. Do -you feel warm?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Are you comfortable?"</p> - -<p>"I am dying."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -"Awake and cry out. Awake and cry out. -I am going away....."</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment XVI</span></h3> - -<p>.....To-day is the eighth day of the battle. -It began last Friday, and Saturday, Sunday, -Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday -have passed—and Friday has come again and -is gone—and it is still going on. Both armies, -hundreds of thousands of men, are standing in -front of each other, never flinching, sending -explosive, crashing projectiles without stopping, -and every instant living men are turned into -corpses. The roar and incessant vibration of -the air has made the very sky shudder and -gather black thunderclouds above their heads,—while -they continue to stand in front of each -other, never flinching and still killing each other. -If a man does not sleep for three nights, he -becomes ill and loses his memory, but they -have not slept for a whole week and are all -mad. That is why they feel no pain, do not -retreat, and go on fighting until they have -killed all to the last man. They say that some -of the detachments came to the end of their -ammunition, but still they fought on, using -their fists and stones, and biting at each other -like dogs. If the remnants of those regiments<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -return home, they will have canine teeth like -wolves—but they will not return, they have -gone mad and die, every man of them. They -have gone mad. Everything is muddled in -their heads, and they cease to understand anything! -If they were to be turned round suddenly -and sharply, they would begin firing at their -own men, thinking that they were firing at the -enemy.</p> - -<p>Strange rumours—strange rumours that are -told in a whisper, those repeating them turning -white from horror and dreadful forebodings. -Brother, brother, listen what is being told of the -red laugh! They say phantom regiments have -appeared, large bands of shadows, the exact -copy of living men. At night, when the men -forget themselves for an instant in sleep, or in -the thick of the day's fight, when the bright -day itself seems a phantom, they suddenly -appear, firing out of phantom guns, filling the -air with phantom noises; and men, living but -insane men, astounded by the suddenness of the -attack, fight to the death against the phantom -enemy, go mad from horror, become grey in -an instant and die. The phantoms disappear -as suddenly as they appear, and all becomes -still, while the earth is strewn with fresh -mutilated bodies. Who killed them? You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -know, brother, who killed them. When there -is a lull between two battles and the enemy -is far off, suddenly in the darkness of the night -there resounds a solitary, frightened shot. -And all jump up and begin firing into the -darkness, into the silent dumb darkness, for a -long time, for whole hours. Whom do they -see there? Whose terrible, silent shape, full -of horror and madness appears before them? -You know, brother, and I know, but men do -not know yet, but they have a foreboding, and -ask, turning pale: "Why are there so many -madmen? Before there never used to be so -many."</p> - -<p>"Before there never used to be so many -madmen," they say, turning pale, trying to -believe that now it is as before, and that -the universal violence done to the brains of -humanity would have no effect upon their weak -little intellects.</p> - -<p>"Why, men fought before and always have -fought, and nothing of the sort happened. -Strife is a law of nature," they say with conviction -and calmness, growing pale, nevertheless, -seeking for the doctor with their eyes, -and calling out hurriedly: "Water, quick, a -glass of water!"</p> - -<p>They would willingly become idiots, those<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -people, only not to feel their intellect reeling -and their reason succumbing in the hopeless -combat with insanity.</p> - -<p>In those days, when men over there were -constantly being turned into corpses, I could -find no peace, and sought the society of my -fellow-men; and I heard many conversations -and saw many false smiling faces, that asserted -that the war was far off and in no way concerned -them. But much oftener I met naked, -frank horror, hopeless, bitter tears and frenzied -cries of despair, when the great Mind itself -cried out of man its last prayer, its last curse, -with all the intensity of its power,—</p> - -<p>"Whenever will the senseless carnage end?"</p> - -<p>At some friends', whom I had not seen for a -long time, perhaps several years, I unexpectedly -met a mad officer, invalided from the war. -He was a schoolfellow of mine, but I did not -recognise him: if he had lain for a year in his -grave, he would have returned more like himself -than he was then. His hair was grey -and his face quite white, his features were but -little changed,—but he was always silent, and -seemed to be listening to something, and this -stamped upon his face a look of such formidable -remoteness, such indifference to all around -him, that it was fearful to talk to him. His<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> -relatives were told he went mad in the following -circumstances: they were in the reserve, -while the neighbouring regiment was ordered -to make a bayonet charge. The men rushed -shouting "Hurrah" so loudly as almost to drown -the noise of the cannon,—and suddenly the -guns ceased firing, the "Hurrah" ceased also, -and a sepulchral stillness ensued: they had -run up to the enemy and were charging him -with their bayonets. And his reason succumbed -to that stillness.</p> - -<p>Now he is calm when people make a noise -around him, talk and shout, he listens and -waits, but if only there is a moment's silence, -he catches hold of his head, rushes up to the -wall or against the furniture, and falls down in -a fit resembling epilepsy. He has many -relations, and they take turns and surround him -with sound, but there remain the nights, long -solitary nights—but here his father, a grey-haired -old man, slightly wandering in his mind -too, helped. He hung the walls of his son's -room with loudly ticking clocks, that constantly -struck the hour at different times, and at present -he is arranging a wheel, resembling an incessantly-going -rattle. None of them lose hope -that he will recover, as he is only twenty-seven, -and their house is even gay. He is dressed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> -very cleanly—not in his uniform—great care -is taken of his appearance and he is even -handsome with his white hair, young, -thoughtful face and well-bred, slow, tired -movements.</p> - -<p>When I was told all, I went up and kissed -his hand, his white languid hand, which will -never more be lifted for a blow—and this did -not seem to surprise anybody very much. -Only his young sister smiled at me with her -eyes, and afterwards showed me such attention -that it seemed as if I were her betrothed and -she loved me more than anybody in the world. -She showed me such attention that I very -nearly told her about my dark empty rooms, -in which I am worse than alone—miserable -heart, that never loses hope.... And she -managed that we remained alone.</p> - -<p>"How pale you are and what dark rings -you have under your eyes," she said kindly. -"Are you ill? Are you grieving for your -brother?"</p> - -<p>"I am grieving for everybody. And I do -not feel well."</p> - -<p>"I know why you kissed my brother's hand. -They did not understand. Because he is mad, -yes?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, because he is mad."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -She grew thoughtful and looked very much -like her brother, only younger.</p> - -<p>"And will you," she stopped and blushed, -but did not lower her eyes, "will you let me -kiss your hand?"</p> - -<p>I kneeled before her and said: "Bless me."</p> - -<p>She paled slightly, drew back and whispered -with her lips,—</p> - -<p>"I do not believe."</p> - -<p>"And I also."</p> - -<p>For an instant her hand touched my head, -and the instant was gone.</p> - -<p>"Do you know," she said, "I am leaving for -the war."</p> - -<p>"Go? But you will not be able to bear it."</p> - -<p>"I do not know. But they need help, the -same as you or my brother. It is not their -fault. Will you remember me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. And you?"</p> - -<p>"And I will remember you too. Good-bye!"</p> - -<p>"Good-bye for ever!"</p> - -<p>And I grew calm and felt happier, as if I had -passed through the most terrible that there is -in death and madness. And yesterday, for the -first time, I entered my house calmly without -any fear, and opened my brother's study and -sat for a long time at his table. And when in -the night I suddenly awoke as if from a push,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -and heard the scraping of the dry pen upon the -paper, I was not frightened, but thought to myself -almost with a smile,—</p> - -<p>"Work on, brother, work on! Your pen is -not dry, it is steeped in living human blood. -Let your paper seem empty—in its ominous -emptiness it is more eloquent of war and reason -than all that is written by the most clever -men. Work on, brother, work on!"</p> - -<p>... And this morning I read that the -battle is still raging, and again I was possessed -with a dread fear and a feeling of something -falling upon my brain. It is coming, it is near; -it is already standing upon the threshold of -these empty, light rooms. Remember, remember -me, dear girl; I am going mad. Thirty -thousand dead, thirty thousand dead!...</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment</span> XVII</h3> - -<p>... A fight is going on in the town. -There are dark and fearful rumours....</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment</span> XVIII</h3> - -<p>This morning, looking through the endless -list of killed in the newspaper, I saw a familiar -name; my sister's affianced husband, an officer -called for military service at the same time as -my dead brother, was killed. And, an hour<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -later, the postman handed me a letter addressed -to my brother, and I recognised the handwriting -of the deceased on the envelope: the dead was -writing to the dead. But still it was better so -than the dead writing to the living. A mother -was pointed out to me who kept receiving letters -from her son for a whole month after she had -read of his terrible death in the papers: he had -been torn to pieces by a shell. He was a fond -son, and each letter was full of endearing and -encouraging words and youthful, naïve hopes of -happiness. He was dead, but wrote of life with -a fearful accuracy every day, and the mother -ceased to believe in his death; and when a day -passed without any letter, then a second and a -third, and the endless silence of death ensued, -she took a large old-fashioned revolver belonging -to her son in both hands, and shot herself -in the breast. I believe she survived, but I -am not sure; I never heard.</p> - -<p>I looked at the envelope for a long time, and -thought: He held it in his hands, he bought -it somewhere, he gave the money to pay for it, -and his servant went to fetch it from some -shop; he sealed and perhaps posted it himself. -Then the wheel of the complex machine called -"post" came into action, and the letter glided -past forest, fields and towns, passing from hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -to hand, but rushing infallibly towards its destination. -He put on his boots that last morning, -while it went gliding on; he was killed, but it -glided on; he was thrown into a pit and covered -up with dead bodies and earth, while it still -glided on past forests, fields and towns, a living -phantom in a grey, stamped envelope. And -now I was holding it in my hands.</p> - -<p>Here are the contents of the letter. It was -written with a pencil on scraps of paper, and -was not finished: something interfered.</p> - -<p>"... Only now do I understand the great -joy of war, the ancient, primitive delight of -killing man—clever, scheming, artful man, -immeasurably more interesting than the most -ravenous animal. To be ever taking life is as -good as playing at lawn-tennis with planets and -stars. Poor friend, what a pity you are not -with us, but are constrained to weary away -your time amidst an unleavened daily existence! -In the atmosphere of death you would have -found all that your restless, noble heart yearned -for. A bloody feast—what truth there is in -this somewhat hackneyed comparison! We -go about up to our knees in blood, and this red -wine, as my jolly men call it in jest, makes -our heads swim. To drink the blood of one's -enemy is not at all such a stupid custom as we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -think: they knew what they were doing....</p> - -<p>"... The crows are cawing. Do you -hear, the crows are cawing. From whence have -they all gathered? The sky is black with them; -they settle down beside us, having lost all fear, -and follow us everywhere; and we are always -underneath them, like under a black lace sunshade -or a moving tree with black leaves. One -of them approached quite close to my face -and wanted to peck at it: he thought, most -probably, that I was dead. The crows are -cawing, and this troubles me a little. From -whence have they all gathered?...</p> - -<p>"... Yesterday we stabbed them all -sleeping. We approached stealthily, scarcely -touching the ground with our feet, as if we were -stalking wild ducks. We stole up to them so -skilfully and cautiously that we did not touch -a corpse and did not scare one single crow. -We stole up like shadows, and the night hid -us. I killed the sentry myself—knocked him -down and strangled him with my hands, so as -not to let him cry out. You understand: the -slightest sound, and all would have been lost. -But he did not cry out; he had no time, I believe, -even to guess that he was being killed.</p> - -<p>"They were all sleeping around the smouldering -fires—sleeping peacefully, as if they were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -at home in their beds. We hacked about us -for more than an hour, and only a few had time -to awake before they received their death-blow. -They howled, and of course begged for mercy. -They used their teeth. One bit off a finger on -my left hand, with which I was incautiously holding -his head. He bit off my finger, but I twisted -his head clean off: how do you think—are we -quits? How they did not all wake up I cannot -imagine. One could hear their bones crackling -and their bodies being hacked. Afterwards we -stripped all naked and divided their clothes -amongst ourselves. My friend, don't get angry -over a joke. With your susceptibility you will -say this savours of marauding, but then we are -almost naked ourselves; our clothes are quite -worn-out. I have been wearing a woman's -jacket for a long time, and resemble more a -... than an officer of a victorious army. By -the bye, you are, I believe, married, and it is -not quite right for you to read such things. -But ... you understand? Women. D—n -it, I am young, and thirst for love! Stop a -minute: I believe it was you who was engaged -to be married? It was you, was it not, who -showed me the portrait of a young girl and told -me she was your promised bride?—and there -was something sad, something very sad and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -mournful underneath it. And you cried. That -was a long time ago, and I remember it but -confusedly; there is no time for softness at war. -And you cried. What did you cry about? -What was there written that was as sad and -mournful as a drooping flower? And you -kept crying and crying.... Were you not -ashamed, an officer, to cry?</p> - -<p>"... The crows are cawing. Do you -hear, friend, the crows are cawing. What do -they want?"</p> - -<p>Further on the pencil-written lines were -effaced and it was impossible to decipher the -signature. And strange to say the dead man -called forth no compassion in me. I distinctly -pictured to myself his face, in which all was -soft and delicate as a woman's: the colour of -his cheeks, the clearness and morning freshness -of the eyes, the beard so bushy and soft, that a -woman could almost have adorned herself with -it. He liked books, flowers and music, feared -all that was coarse, and wrote poetry,—my -brother, as a critic, declared that he wrote very -good poetry. And I could not connect all that -I knew and remembered of him with the cawing -crows, bloody carnage and death.</p> - -<p>... The crows are cawing....</p> - -<p>And suddenly for one mad, unutterably happy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -instant, I clearly saw that all was a lie and -that there was no war. There were no killed, -no corpses, there was no anguish of reeling, -helpless thought. I was sleeping on my back -and seeing a dream, as I used to in my childhood: -the silent dread rooms, devastated by -death and terror, and myself with a wild letter -in my hand. My brother was living, and they -were all sitting at the tea-table, and I could -hear the noise of the crockery.</p> - -<p>... The crows are cawing....</p> - -<p>No, it is but true. Unhappy earth, it is true. -The crows are cawing. It is not the invention -of an idle scribbler, aiming at cheap effects, or -of a madman, who has lost his senses. The -crows are cawing. Where is my brother? -He was noble-hearted and gentle and wished -no one evil. Where is he? I am asking you, -you cursed murderers. I am asking you, you -cursed murderers, crows sitting on carrion, -wretched, imbecile animals, before the whole -world. For you are animals. What did you -kill my brother for? If you had a face, I -would give you a blow upon it, but you have no -face, you have only the snout of a wild beast. -You pretend that you are men, but I see claws -under your gloves and the flat skull of an -animal under your hat; hidden beneath your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -clever conversation I hear insanity rattling its -rusty chains. And with all the power of my -grief, my anguish and dishonoured thought—I -curse you, you wretched, imbecile animals!</p> - - -<h3><span class="smcap">Fragment the Last</span></h3> - -<p>"... We look to you for the regeneration -of human life!"</p> - -<p>So shouted a speaker, holding on with difficulty -to a small pillar, balancing himself with -his arm, and waving a flag with a large inscription -half-hidden in its folds: "Down with the -war!"</p> - -<p>"You, who are young, you, whose lives are -only just beginning, save yourselves and the -future generations from this horror, from this -madness. It is unbearable, our eyes are -drowned with blood. The sky is falling upon -us, the earth is giving way under our feet. -Kind people...."</p> - -<p>The crowd was buzzing enigmatically and the -voice of the speaker was drowned at times in -the living threatening noise.</p> - -<p>"... Suppose I am mad, but I am speaking -the truth. My father and brother are rotting -over there like carrion. Make bonfires, -dig pits and destroy, bury all your arms. -Demolish all the barracks, and strip all the men<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -of their bright clothes of madness, tear them -off. One cannot bear it.... Men are -dying...."</p> - -<p>Somebody very tall gave him a blow and -knocked him off the pillar; the flag rose once -again and fell. I had no time to see the face -of the man who struck him, as instantly everything -turned into a nightmare. Everything became -commotion, became agitated and howled; -stones and logs of wood went flying through -the air, fists, that were beating somebody, appeared -above the heads. The crowd, like a -living, roaring wave, lifted me up, carried me -along several steps and threw me violently -against a fence, then carried me back and away -somewhere, and at last pressed me against a -high pile of wood, that inclined forwards, -threatening to fall down upon somebody's head. -Something crackled and rattled against the -beams in rapid dry succession; an instant's stillness—and -again a roar burst forth, enormous, -open-mouthed, terrible in its overwhelming -power. And then the dry rapid crackling was -heard again and somebody fell down near me -with the blood flowing out of a red hole where -his eye had been. And a heavy log of wood -came whirling through the air and struck me -in the face, and I fell down and began crawling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -whither I knew not, amidst the trampling feet, -and came to an open space. Then I climbed -over some fences, breaking all my nails, -clambered up piles of wood; one pile fell to -pieces under me and I fell amidst a cataract of -thumping logs; at last I succeeded with difficulty -in getting out of a closed-in space—while -behind me all crashed, roared, howled -and crackled, trying to overtake me. A bell -was ringing somewhere; something fell with a -thundering crash, as if it were a five-storey -house. The twilight seemed to have stopped -still, keeping back the night, and the roar and -shots, as if steeped in red, had driven away -the darkness. Jumping over the last fence I -found myself in a narrow, crooked lane resembling -a corridor, between two obscure -walls, and began running. I ran for a long -time, but the lane seemed to have no outlet: it -was terminated by a wall, behind which piles -of wood and scaffolding rose up black against -the sky. And again I climbed over the -mobile, shifting piles, falling into pits, where -all was still and smelt of damp wood, -getting out of them again into the open, not -daring to look back, for I knew quite well -what was happening by the dull reddish colour -that tinged the black beams and made them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -look like murdered giants. My smashed face had -stopped bleeding and felt numbed and strange, -like a mask of plaster; and the pain had almost -quite disappeared. I believe I fainted and -lost consciousness in one of the black holes into -which I had fallen, but I am not certain whether -I only imagined it or was it really so, as I can -only remember myself running.</p> - -<p>I rushed about the unfamiliar streets, that -had no lamps, past the black death-like houses -for a long time, unable to find my way out of -the dumb labyrinth. I ought to have stopped -and looked around me to define the necessary -direction, but it was impossible to do so: the -still distant din and howl was following at my -heels and gradually overtaking me; sometimes, -at a sudden turning, it struck me in the face, -red and enveloped in clouds of livid, curling -smoke, and then I turned back and rushed -on until it was at my back once more. At -one corner I saw a strip of light, that disappeared -at my approach: it was a shop that -was being hastily closed. I caught a glimpse -of the counter and a barrel through a wide -chink, but suddenly all became enveloped in a -silent, crouching gloom. Not far from the -shop I met a man, who was running towards -me, and we almost collided in the darkness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -stopping short at the distance of two steps -from each other. I do not know who he was: -I only saw the dark alert outline.</p> - -<p>"Are you coming from over there?" he -asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And where are you running to?"</p> - -<p>"Home."</p> - -<p>"Ah! Home?"</p> - -<p>He was silent for an instant and suddenly -flung himself upon me, trying to bring me to -the ground, and his cold fingers searched -hungrily for my throat, but got entangled in -my clothes. I bit his hand, loosened myself -from his grip and set off running through the -deserted streets with him after me, stamping -loudly with his boots, for a long time. Then -he stopped—I suppose the bite hurt him.</p> - -<p>I do not know how I hit upon my street. It -had no lamps either and the houses had not a -single light, as if they were dead, and I would -have run past without recognising it, if I had -not by chance lifted my eyes and seen my -house. But I hesitated for some time: the -house in which I had lived for so many years -seemed to me unfamiliar in that strange dead -street, in which my loud breathing awakened -an extraordinary and mournful echo. Then I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -was seized by a sudden wild terror at the -thought that I had lost my key when I fell, -and I found it with difficulty, although it was -there all the time in the pocket of my coat. -And when I turned the lock the echo repeated -the sound so loudly and extraordinarily, as if -all the doors of those dead houses in the whole -street had opened simultaneously.</p> - -<p>... At first I hid myself in the cellar, but -it was terrible and dull down there, and something -began darting before my eyes, so I -quietly stole into the rooms. Groping my way -in the dark I locked all the doors and after a -short meditation decided to barricade them -with the furniture, but the sound of the -furniture being moved was terribly loud in the -empty rooms and terrified me. "I shall await -death thus. It's all the same," I decided. -There was some water, very warm water in the -water-jug, and I washed my face in the dark -and wiped it with a sheet. The parts that -were smashed galled and smarted much, and I -felt a desire to look at myself in the looking-glass. -I lit a match—and in its uneven, faint -light there glanced at me from out of the darkness -something so hideous and terrible, that I -hastily threw the match upon the floor. I -believe my nose was broken. "It makes no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -difference now," said I to myself. "Nobody -will mind."</p> - -<p>And I felt gay. With strange grimaces and -contortions of the body, as if I were personating -a thief on the stage, I went into the larder -and began searching for food. I clearly saw -the unsuitableness of all my grimaces, but it -pleased me so. And I ate with the same contortions, -pretending that I was very hungry.</p> - -<p>But the darkness and quiet frightened me. -I opened the window into the yard and began -listening. At first, probably as the traffic had -ceased, all seemed to me to be quite still. And -I heard no shots. But soon I clearly distinguished -a distant din of voices: shouts, the -crash of something falling, a laugh. The -sounds grew louder perceptibly. I looked at -the sky; it was livid and sweeping past rapidly. -And the coach-house opposite me, and the -paving of the streets, and the dog's kennel, all -were tinged with the same reddish glare. I -called the dog softly,—</p> - -<p>"Neptune!"</p> - -<p>But nothing stirred in the kennel, and near -it I distinguished in the livid light a shining -piece of broken chain. The distant cries and -noise of something falling kept on growing, and -I shut the window.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> - -<p>"They are coming here!" I said to myself, -and began looking for some place to hide -myself. I opened the stoves, fumbled at the -grate, opened the cupboards, but they would -not do. I made the round of all the rooms, -excepting the study, into which I did not want -to look. I knew he was sitting in his armchair -at his table, heaped with books, and this -was unpleasant to me at that moment.</p> - -<p>Gradually it began to appear that I was not -alone: around me people were silently moving -about in the darkness. They almost touched -me, and once somebody's breath sent a cold -thrill through the back of my head.</p> - -<p>"Who is there?" I asked in a whisper, but -nobody answered.</p> - -<p>And when I moved on they followed me, -silent and terrible. I knew that it was only a -hallucination because I was ill and apparently -feverish, but I could not conquer my fear, from -which I was trembling all over as if I had the -ague. I felt my head: it was hot as if on -fire.</p> - -<p>"I had better go there," said I to myself. -"He is one of my own people after all."</p> - -<p>He was sitting in his armchair at his table, -heaped with books, and did not disappear as -he did the last time, but remained seated.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -The reddish light was making its way through -the red drawn curtains into the room, but did -not light up anything, and he was scarcely -visible. I sat down at a distance from him on -the couch and waited. All was still in the -room, while from outside the even buzzing -noise, the crash of something falling and -disjointed cries were borne in upon us. And -they were nearing us. The livid light became -brighter and brighter, and I could distinguish -him in his armchair—his black, iron-like -profile, outlined by a narrow stripe of red.</p> - -<p>"Brother!" I said.</p> - -<p>But he kept silence, immobile and black, -like a monument. A board cracked in the -next room and suddenly all became so extraordinarily -still, as it is where there are many -dead. All the sounds died away and the -livid light itself assumed a scarcely perceptible -shade of deathliness and stillness and became -motionless and a little dim. I thought the -stillness was coming from my brother and told -him so.</p> - -<p>"No, it is not from me," he answered. -"Look out of the window."</p> - -<p>I pulled the curtains aside and staggered -back.</p> - -<p>"So that's what it is!" said I.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p> - -<p>"Call my wife; she has not seen that yet," -ordered my brother.</p> - -<p>She was sitting in the dining-room sewing -something and, seeing my face, rose obediently, -stuck her needle into her work and followed -me. I pulled back the curtains from all the -windows and the livid light flowed in through -the broad openings unhindered, but somehow -did not make the room any lighter: it was -just as dark and only the big red squares of -the windows burned brightly.</p> - -<p>We went up to the window. Before the -house there stretched an even, fiery red sky, -without a single cloud, star or sun, and ended -at the horizon, while below it lay just such -an even dark red field, and it was covered with -dead bodies. All the corpses were naked and -lay with their legs towards us, so that we -could only see their feet and triangular heads. -And all was still; apparently they were all -dead, and there were no wounded left behind -in that endless field.</p> - -<p>"Their number is growing," said my brother.</p> - -<p>He was standing at the window also, and -all were there: my mother, sister and everybody -that lived in the house. I could not -distinguish their faces, and could recognise -them only by their voices.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> - -<p>"It only seems so," said my sister.</p> - -<p>"No, it's true. Just look."</p> - -<p>And, truly, there seemed to be more bodies. -We looked attentively for the reason and -found it: at the side of a corpse, where there -was a free space, a fresh corpse suddenly -appeared: apparently the earth was throwing -them up. And all the unoccupied spaces filled -rapidly, and the earth grew lighter from the -light pink bodies, that were lying side by side -with their feet towards us. And the room -grew lighter filled with a light pink dead light.</p> - -<p>"Look, there is not enough room for them," -said my brother.</p> - -<p>And my mother answered,—</p> - -<p>"There is one here already."</p> - -<p>We looked round: behind us on the floor -lay a naked, light pink body with its head -thrown back. And instantly at its side there -appeared a second, and a third. And the -earth threw them up one after the other, and -soon the orderly rows of light pink dead -bodies filled all the rooms.</p> - -<p>"They are in the nursery too," said the -nurse. "I saw them."</p> - -<p>"We must go away," said my sister.</p> - -<p>"But we cannot pass," said my brother.</p> - -<p>"Look!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -And sure enough, they were lying close -together, arm to arm, and their naked feet -were touching us. And suddenly they stirred -and swayed and rose up in the same orderly -rows: the earth was throwing up new bodies, -and they were lifting the first ones upwards.</p> - -<p>"They will smother us!" said I. "Let us -save ourselves through the window."</p> - -<p>"We cannot!" cried my brother. "We -cannot! Look what is there!"</p> - -<p>... Behind the window, in a livid, -motionless light, stood the Red Laugh.</p> - - -<p class="center p4">THE END</p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p> - - - - -<p class="center p6">EDINBURGH<br /> -COLSTON AND COY. LIMITED<br /> -PRINTERS</p></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The red laugh: fragments of a -discovered manuscript, by Leonid Andreyev - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED LAUGH *** - -***** This file should be named 62460-h.htm or 62460-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/4/6/62460/ - -Produced by Carlos Colón, the University of California -and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images -generously made available by The Internet Archive/American -Libraries.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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