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PARTISAN REVIEW
words he reached for his comb and began to smooth back his thick
young unruly hair.
Then the fourth person present put in his word, "Why do you
·need justice, you're now the storehouse keeper."
The fourth person was a man of middle age, but already gray–
ing, pale, and apparently not very well. He smoked incessantly, more
than everyone else, and coughed a good deal. When he stretched
his hand toward the pot to discard the stub of a cigarette that had
already singed his fingers, his big thick nails could be seen, and under
the nails earth- not dirt , but earth. This was the brigadier of the
farming brigade, Ivan Konoplev. He had the reputation of being a
fair man, but irascible. He spoke rarely but caustically. Usually no
one was offended by his sharp words; apparently people did not
sense in them any dislike toward themselves. Shchukin likewise was
not offended.
But the one-armed man, whom all called by both his first and
middle names, Piotr Kuz'mich, objected, "Well, justice-you know
that's necessary. That's what keeps us going. Only I, for one, fel–
lows, don't understand something again. I can't understand what is
going on in our district. You know, they said, plan from the bot–
tom, let the kolkhoz decide what is best for it to sow and what isn't.
But they don't confirm the plan. For the third time they've returned
it for corrections.
It
seems they collected all the kolkhoz plans,
weighed them, and it turned out- they don't agree with the district
plan. But the district plan is given from above. You can't make much
out of this either. Well, so an obstacle has been struck. The sparks
fly, but nothing comes of it. Again there's nothing left of our plan.
That's justice for you. They don't believe in us."
"Justice in our district is given a seat only in honorary pre–
sidiums, so that it shouldn't be offended and should keep quiet," said
the pale Konoplev and tossed a: butt into the pot.
Shchukin also put in his word, "Justice is needed only for meet–
ings, on solemn occasions, just like criticism and self-criticism. It
can't apply in real practice- isn't this what it comes down to?"
A guarded and somehow uneasy look suddenly crossed Tsipy–
shev's face. It seemed this confidential conversation had ceased to
please him.
"Okay, hammer away, but mind where the chips fly," he re-
