ALL MEN ARE
365
Tell him we regret the incident. I apologize, tell him. We all apolo–
gize. We're sorry it happened. We're crazy about the Russkys. Tell
him that."
Despite my inadequate telling the two officers glared their dis–
like. The Russian bowed, again that mocking salute. He summoned
his chauffeur harshly, pointed to the car.
"This is a pretty village," he said with a smile, glancing at
the factory.
Margaret stood at the gate. She carried a bouquet of flowers.
I had seen her pluck them from the garden earlier. And when the
command car stopped at the gate, prepared to surge around the
turn, she approached it in full view of us. She walked over to the
Russian, not smiling, but offered her tribute as a simple acknowledg–
ment of the facts of life. She spoke to the officer, extended the
bouquet. He leaned from the vehicle, took it from her, smiled.
As
the car pressed forward, he threw the bouquet into the mud- not a
violent gesture, a casual, indifferent one. He didn't glance back to
see the effect of the insult.
"She isn't going to sweeten her justice with flowers," the lieu–
tenant said. " She'll get it hard. I won't cry for her."
But Margaret remained at the gate, staring toward the vanished
Russians. Smitty screamed murder from the bedroom window.
