Page:Evgenii Zamyatin - We (Zilboorg translation).pdf/45

distance—a head; I saw pink wing ears sticking out on the sides of it, then the curve of the overhanging back of the head, the double-curved letter S.

Through the glass walls of my algebraic world again I felt the eyelash in my eye. I felt something disagreeable, I felt that today I must . . .

“Certainly, please.” I smiled at my neighbor and bowed. I saw Number S-4711 glittering on his golden badge (that is why I associated him with the letter S from the very first moment: an optical impression which remained unregistered by consciousness). His eyes sparkled, two sharp little drills; they were revolving swiftly, drilling in deeper and deeper. It seemed that in a moment they would drill in to the bottom and would see something that I do not even dare to confess to myself. . . .

That bothersome eyelash became wholly clear to me. S- was one of them, one of the Guardians, and it would be the simplest thing immediately, without deferring, to tell him everything!

“I went yesterday to the Ancient House . . .” My voice was strange, husky, flat—I tried to cough.

“That is good. It must have given you material for some instructive deductions.”

“Yes . . . but . . . You see, I was not alone; I was in the company of I-330, and then . . .”

“I-330? You are fortunate. She is a very interesting, gifted woman; she has a host of admirers.”

But he, too—then during the promenade. . . . Perhaps he is even assigned as her he-Number! No, it is impossible to tell him, unthinkable. This was perfectly clear.

“Yes, yes, certainly, very.” I smiled, more and more broadly, more stupidly, and felt as if my smile made me look foolish, naked.

The drills reached the bottom; revolving continually they screwed themselves back into his eyes. S- smiled double-curvedly, nodded, and slid to the exit.

I covered my face with the newspaper (I felt as if