464
MIKHAil ZOSHCHENKO
"Nicky," she said into the mouthpiece. "Just imagine,
the
train was late .and has only just left. I'll be home in ten minutes."
I don't know what her husband said, but she replied:
"I'm telling you, the train was late. I'll be home presently." •
Her husband probably said
it
was midnight. "Really?"
she
said. "Well I don't know what your watch says, but here, by
the
station clock...."
She threw back her head and looked at my ceiling.
"The station clock here," she repeated, "say exactly eleven."
She narrowed her eyes as though looking at a distant station
clock. "Yes," she said, "exactly eleven, actually two minutes past
eleven. You must have a funny sort of watch...." Your watch
must be wrong.
She hung up and began to laugh. Today this little sawdust–
filled doll would be a most welcome guest. But then I was angry
with her. I said:
"Why do you tell lies so brazenly? He will check his watch
and see you've told a lie."
"But he believed I was at the station," she said, putting on
lipstick.
Having finished painting her lips, she added:
"Why tell me off anyway. I don't want to listen. I know
what I'm doing. He runs around with a revolver threatening to
kill my friends and me too in the bargain.... Incidentally, he
won't care whether you're a writer or not . . . I'm sure he'll
shoot you just as splendidly."
I mumbled something in reply.
Putting on her coat, she said:
"So you were angry? Perhaps you don't want me to come
any more?"
"Just as you pleaSe," I answered.
."No, I won't come to see you any more," she said. "I see
you don't love me at all."
She left with an imperious nod of her head.
She did it beautifully for her nineteen years.
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