The Road Read Online Free PDF

has just come to the workshop.” He looked around and, as if apologizing for something, said in a tone of disbelief, “The Poles are in Chudnov, and Chudnov’s only twenty-five miles away.”
    Beila came in. She had overheard some of this, and she said resolutely, “There’s no two ways about it—the Poles will be here tomorrow. Or maybe it’ll be the Austrians or the Galicians. Anyway, whoever it is, you can stay here with us. And they’ve brought you enough food—may the Lord be praised—for the next three months.”
    Vavilova said nothing. For once in her life she did not know what to do.
    “Beila,” she began, and fell silent.
    “I’m not afraid,” said Beila. “Why would I be afraid? I can manage five like Alyosha—no trouble at all. But whoever heard of a mother abandoning a ten-day-old baby?”
    All through the night there were noises outside the window: the neighing of horses, the knocking of wheels, loud exclamations, angry voices. The supply carts were moving from Shepetovka to Kazatin.
    Vavilova sat by the cradle. Her child was asleep. She looked at his little yellow face. Really, nothing very much was going to happen. Kozyrev had said that they would be back in a month. That was exactly the length of time she was expecting to be on leave. But what if she were cut off for longer? No, that didn’t frighten her, either.
    Once Alyosha was a bit stronger, they’d find their way across the front line.
    Who was going to harm them—a peasant woman with a babe in arms? And Vavilova imagined herself walking through the countryside early on a summer’s morning. She had a colored kerchief on her head, and Alyosha was looking all around and stretching out his little hands. How good it all felt! In a thin voice she began to sing, “Sleep, my little son, sleep!” And, as she was rocking the cradle, she dozed off.
    In the morning the market was as busy as ever. The people, though, seemed especially excited. Some of them, watching the unbroken chain of supply carts, were laughing joyfully. But then the carts came to an end. Now there were only people. Standing by the town gates were just ordinary townsfolk—the “civilian population” of decrees issued by commandants. Everybody was looking around all the time, exchanging excited whispers. Apparently the Poles had already taken Pyatka, a shtetl only ten miles away. Magazanik had not gone out to work. Instead, he was sitting in Vavilova’s room, philosophizing for all he was worth.
    An armored car rumbled past in the direction of the railway station. It was covered in a thick layer of dust—as if the steel had gone gray from exhaustion and too many sleepless nights.
    “To be honest with you,” Magazanik was saying, “this is the best time of all for us townsfolk. One lot has left—and the next has yet to arrive. No requisitions, no ‘voluntary contributions,’ no pogroms.”
    “It’s only in the daytime that he’s so smart,” said Beila. “At night, when there are bandits on every street and the whole town’s in uproar, he sits there looking like death. All he can do is shake with terror.”
    “Don’t interrupt,” Magazanik said crossly, “when I’m talking to someone.”
    Every now and then he would slip out to the street and come back with the latest news. The Revolutionary Committee had been evacuated during the night, the district Party Committee had gone next, and the military headquarters had left in the morning. The station was empty. The last army train had already gone.
    Vavilova heard shouts from the street. An airplane in the sky! She went to the window. The plane was high up, but she could see the white-and-red roundels on its wings. It was a Polish reconnaissance plane. It made a circle over the town and flew off toward the station. And then, from the direction of Bald Hill, cannons began firing.
    The first sound they heard was that of the shells; they howled by like a whirlwind. Next came the long sigh of the cannons. And