Page:Evgenii Zamyatin - We (Zilboorg translation).pdf/208

Rh is the most terrible of weapons; you can kill anything with laughter, even murder. I sat at my table and laughed desperately; I saw no way out of that absurd situation. I don’t know what would have been the end if things had run their natural course, but suddenly a new factor in the arithmetical chain: the telephone rang.

I hurried, grasped the receiver. Perhaps she I heard an unfamiliar voice:

“Wait a minute”

Annoying, infinite buzzing. Heavy steps from afar, nearer and louder like cast iron, and

“D-503? The Well-Doer speaking. Come at once to me.”

Ding! He hung up the receiver. Ding! like a key in a keyhole.

U- was still in bed, eyes closed, gills apart in the form of a smile. I picked up her clothes, threw them on her, and said through clenched teeth:

“Well. Quick! Quick!”

She raised her body on her elbow, her breasts hanging down to one side, eyes round. She became a figure of wax.

“What?”

“Get dressed, that is what!”

Face distorted, she firmly snatched her clothes and said in a flat voice, “Turn away "

I turned away, pressed my forehead against the glass. Light, figures, sparks were trembling in the black, wet mirror No, all this was I, myself—within me What did HE call me for? Is it possible that HE knows already about her, about me, about everything?

U-, already dressed, was at the door. I made a step toward her and pressed her hand as hard as though I hoped to squeeze out of it, drop by drop, what I needed.

“Listen Her name, you know whom I am talking of, did you report her name? No? Tell the truth, I must I don’t care what happens, but tell the truth!”

“No.”

“No? But why not, since you ”