BEFORE SUNRISE
463
I make chalk marks on the stairway to see whether the
flood is rising.
At five p.m. the water is splashing at the door.
It grows dark. I sit at the window and listen to the wind
howling.
Practically the entire city
is
under water now. The water
has risen four meters.
The dark sky is lit by the glare of some kind of conflagration.
Dawn. From my window I see the water gradually receding.
I go out into the street. A ghastly sight. A barge piled with wood
in the street. Beams. Boats. A small sailing ship with .a mast is
lying on its side. Devastation, chaos and destruction everywhere.
The Train Was Late
Alya came in breathlessly and said:
"Didn't want to let me go ... you've got to realize Nikolai,
I said, I must see my best friend off-she's leaving for Moscow
and doesn't know when she'll be back...."
I asked Alya:
"When does the train leave with your friend?"
She laughed and clapped her hands.
"You see," she said, "and you believed it . . . no one's
, leaving. I just made it up to be able to come and see you."
"The train for Moscow leaves at 10: 30," I said. "That
means you have to be home about 11: 00."
It was already midnight when she looked at her watch. She
gave a shriek and ran over to the telephone without even putting
on her slippers.
She sat down in a chair and picked up the receiver,
trembling with cold and emotion.
I threw her a shawl. She covered her legs with it.
She was strikingly pretty-almost like a painting by Renoir.
"Why are you telephoning?" I asked her. "You had better
get dressed and leave."
She waved her hand at me in annoyance.
