370
BORIS
PASTERNAK
"That bundle of
papers!"
Kovalevsky interrupted
him
angrily, "I asked you to remind me."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Yura. We left them behind. It really
is
too
bad of me. I can't
think
how I ..."
Their host, a short thickset man who had difficulty with
his breathing, attended in the meantime to his managerial busi–
ness. He kept looking at his watch and, puffing and blowing,
stirred the logs in the stove with a poker. Sometimes, as though
changing his mind about something, he would suddenly stop in
his tracks halfway across the room, swivel round and dart over to
the desk at which Kovalevsky was writing to his brother: . . .
"in other words, all is well. I only hope it goes on like this. Now
for the most important thing. Do exactly as I tell you. Kostya
~ys
that we left a bundle with all my illegal stuff lying on
Masha's suitcase in the hall. Open it up and if there are any
manuscripts among the pamphlets (memoirs, notes on the scope
of the organization, letters in code relating to the secret rendez–
vous in our house, to the period of Kulisher's escape, etc.) wrap
it all up, seal it and send it to me in Moscow at the office
in
Teploryadnaya with the first reliable person-depending of
course on how things work out. But you know what to do as
well as I do and if there is a change of ..."
-"Do come and have some coffee," whispered the manager
with a shuffle and a click of the heels. "I mean you, young
man," he explained to Goltsev with even greater care and
paused respectfully at the sight of Kovalevsky's cuff which was
poised over the paper, waiting to pounce on the needed word.
Three Austrian prisoners of war went past the window,
talking and blowing their noses. They carefully walked round
the puddles which had fonned .
. . . "If
there
is
a change of climate," Kovalevsky found the
word he needed, "don't send the papers to Moscow, but hide
them in a safe place. I'm counting on you for
this
and all other
things we agreed on. We have to catch the train soon. I'm dead
tired.
We hope to have a
good
sleep in the train. rm writing to
