Mykola Khvylovy

“ The evening is dying. The night is coming. On the earth walls going deserters and monotonously beat machine-gun. Empty lord rooms fade in waiting.
I look at the doctor and can’t stand this look at ancient portrait.
I jangle:
- Dr. Tagabat! In an hour I have to eliminate the last part of convicts. I cannot choose but accept the detached force. ”

“ On the town’s tower beyond pass is anxiously ringing copper. It is a chime. From a dark field I can hear muted cannonade.
My acquaintances are sitting by a wide table made of black wood. Silence. I can hear only how the station horn is playing his music again. Sometimes you can see insurgents beyond the window.
It’s easy to recognize my friends:
A doctor Tagabat,
Andryusha,
And...degenerate (faithful watchman on the chats) .
This is a full black court-martial. ”

“ The light doesn’t have enough power to reach even quarter of the room. From the ceiling looms a girandole. In the town – darkness. Here is darkness too: the electric station disrupted.
The doctor Tagabat was lying on the wide settee on the distance from candelabrum, and I can see only his balding head with too high forehead. Behind him in the far distance in the dark is the faithful watchman with the malformed skull. I can see only his mad eyes, but I know: the degenerate has a low forehead, his black dig disheveled hair and flattened nose. ”

“ The watchman silently, like a robot, leaves the room.
(Yes, it still was the watchmen: not only Andryusha – we were sinning too: the doctor and I. We often used to avoid of watching these killings. But he, this degenerate, was always a soldier of revolution, and left the field only then, when the smoke has cleared and the dead were buried) .
...Curtain parted and a pair comes in: a woman in mourning and a man in pince-nez.
They were absolutely frightened by this situation: aristocratic luxury, king’s portraits and disorder – empty bottles, gun and blue cigarette’ smoke. ”

“ Andryusha is sitting to my right, absent-minded and sometimes glancing at the doctor. I know why.
Andryusha, my poor soul Andryusha has been stationed here by the heartless revolution committee, against his own will. And Andryusha, this unhappy communard, when he has to sign the dark conclusion “to kill”, always takes his time, always signs like this: he doesn’t write his own name and surname on the document, but he draws something incomprehensible, something spun like a Chinese hieroglyph.
I:
- Doctor Tagabat, what do you think?
The doctor (emotional) :
- Kill them! ”

“ There, beyond by a rapid bluish side, lightning is flashing and boiling, and mountains are foaming. Heavy, humid thunder cannot break through from India, from the south. And the nature is waiting for a storm. ”

“ He offered a simple explanation for his dual political views: "I wanted to be a Ukrainian Bolshevik." The drama of being divided ended in suicide: on May 13, 1933, Khyvlovy shot himself in his apartment. The revolution was devouring its children. The new Soviet authorities set out to destroy an entire generation of Ukrainian intelligentsia – and Khvylovy was one of their leaders. And as a leader and ardent communist, he could not fail to feel his responsibility for the unfolding tragedy... ”

“ And again it is getting dark and once again southward was burning homes.
...The black tribunal of commune is going to escape. Load on carts, plod wagon-trains, the crowds harry to the northwards. Only our lonely battleship stands still in the recess of pinewood and hold back from right flank enemy regiments. ”

“ Doctor Tagabat has pushed a button. Then a menial brings old wines on a tray. After that, the menial goes and his steps disappear.
I am looking at the candelabrum, but my sight involuntarily goes back to Doctor Tagabat and the watchmen. They hold the wine bottles and they drink it meanly and wildly.
I think: “It has to be”.
But Andryusha nervously paces from place to place, all time about to say something. I know what he thinks: he wants to say that it is foul, that communards don’t act like that, that all of this is Bacchanaliya etc. ”

“ And at this moment there was a bountiful garden on fire – gunfire again beat anxiety. It departed insurgents, then notices the enemy. – Side exploded shell.
... I took a holster mauser and quickly went to a lonely figure. And then, I remember, that fire broke short: so that was finishing with the nuns.
And then, I remember –
From outskirts of pinewood our armored car was beat an alarm. – Buzzed the forest.
Flashed up the fire – one,
two –
and more – beat! beat!
Hostile armies are pushing. We must hurry. Oh, you must hurry!
But I go and go, and lonely figure of my mother is there. ”

“ The woman starts to cry. The man became paler. Formidable portraits of king and queen were gloomily looking from the walls. Echoed muted cannonade and the station horn was playing his anxious music. Enemy billfish is attacking our stations – telling by telephone. From the town echoed noise: carts that were passing over the bridge. ”

“ There must be a life rule: еrrаrе humanum est. What? Make mistakes! And what kind of mistakes can be made?
Indeed: it was a reality as a pack of hungry wolves. But it was also the only way to “lakes of unknown beautiful commune”.
...And then I burned in the fire of fanaticism and clearly reflected the steps on the north road.
...Silent procession was approaching to pinewood I do not remember being aranged nuns, but I remember:
I went to the Doctor and put his hand on my shoulder:
- Your mother there! Do, whatever you want! ”