248
VLADIMIR DUDINTSEV
midday the Institute social workers were already telephoning the
funeral parlor.
His death, which he had in a manner foretold himself, af–
fected us deeply. For several days we exchanged expressive looks
when coming to work. I proved myself a weakling. At first I
gave way to panic and even lost weight. I could not bear any
extraneous conversations, and for a week I concentrated on my
work. But a week later, when I received the new issue of our
scientific journal and spotted the name of S., the corresponding
member, in the table of contents, I lost my head and became ob–
lious to everything except that sheet of paper dotted with print–
ed words. Nervously I thumbed through the journal and im–
mediately lighted upon a footnote in small print (the most
poisonous attacks always appear in small print). There, in the
midst of polite but venomous words, I recognized my name.
Thus I fell back into my groove. Paper, paper! who ever in–
vented you! I abandoned my research and, egged on by
all
of
my partisans, wrote an article, putting in it not just one but
three footnotes. They were intended to annihilate my enemy
completely. The whole department joined in composing these
footnotes.
If
you wished to to see us at this work, may I sug–
gest you visit the Tretyakovsky Gallery and examine Repin's
famous painting,
The Zaporog Cossacks Sending a Letter of
Insult to the Sultan of Turkey.
This painting depicts our entire
department--our chief, roaring with laughter and holding his
belly, and myself sitting at a table with my glasses on and pen
in hand.
Having re-entered myoid accustomed groove, I completely
forgot about that individual who had shadowed me from behind
comers, arcades and gateways. Following the mournful days
you all know about, which had ended in a funeral, the tails
of the evening dress appeared no more. I was firmly convinced
that it had been one of the bandits and executioners of my now
absent colleague who had shadowed me then.
But soon after the day on which I received the journal
