Page:Evgenii Zamyatin - We (Zilboorg translation).pdf/132

I felt thousands of eyes bulging with horror fixed upon me, but that only added a sort of desperately joyful power to that wild being with hairy paws which arose in me and ran faster and faster. Two more steps—she turned around—

I saw a quivering face covered with freckles, red eyebrows. . . . It was not she! Not I-330!

A rabid, quivering joy took hold of me. I wanted to shout something like: “Catch her! Get her, that—” But I heard only my whisper. A heavy hand was already upon my shoulder; I was caught and led away. I tried to explain to them:

“But listen, you must understand that I thought that . . .”

But could I explain even to myself all the sickness which I have described in these pages? My light went out; I waited obediently. As a leaf that is torn from its branch by a sudden gust of wind falls humbly, but on its way down turns and tries to catch every little branch, every fork, every knot, so I tried to catch every one of the silent, globe-like heads, or the transparent ice of the walls, or the blue needle of the Accumulating Tower which seemed to pierce the clouds.

At that moment, when a heavy curtain was about to separate me from this beautiful world, I noticed not far away a familiar, enormous head gliding over the mirror surface of the pavement and wagging its winglike ears. I heard a familiar, flat voice:

“I deem it my duty to testify that Number D-503 is ill and is unable to regulate his emotions. Moreover, I am sure that he was led by natural indignation—”

“Yes! Yes!” I exclaimed. “I even shouted, ‘Catch her!’”

From behind me: “You did not shout anything.”

“No, but I wanted to. I swear by the Well-Doer I wanted to!”

For a second I was bored through by the gray, cold, drill eyes. I don’t know whether he believed that what I said was the truth (almost!), or whether he had some