“I had better go there,” said I to myself. “He is one of my own people after all.”
He was sitting in his armchair at the table, heaped with books, and did not disappear as he did the last time, but remained seated. The reddish light was making its way through the red drawn curtains into the room, but did not light up anything, and he was scarcely visible. I sat down at a distance from him on the couch and waited. All was still in the room, while from outside the even buzzing noise, the crash of something falling and disjointed cries were borne in upon us. And they were nearing us. The livid light became brighter and brighter, and I could distinguish him in his armchair—his black, iron-like profile, outlined by a narrow stripe of red.
“Brother!” I said.
But he kept silence, immobile and black, like a monument. A board cracked in the next room and suddenly all became so extraordinarily still, as it is where there are many dead. All the sounds died away and the livid light itself assumed a scarcely perceptible shade of deathliness and stillness and became motionless and a little dim. I thought the stillness was coming from my brother and told him so.
“No, it is not from me,” he answered. “Look out of the window.”
I pulled the curtains aside and staggered back.
“So that’s what it is!” said I.
“Call my wife; she has not seen that yet,” ordered my brother.
She was sitting in the dining-room sewing something and, seeing my face, rose obediently, stuck her needle into her work and followed me. I pulled back the curtains from all the windows and the livid light flowed in through the broad openings unhindered, but somehow did not make the room any lighter: it was just as dark and only the big red squares of the windows burned brightly.
We went up to the window. Before the house there stretched an even, fiery red sky, without a single cloud, star or sun, and ended at the horizon, while below it lay just such an even dark red field, and it was covered with dead bodies. All the corpses were naked and lay with their legs towards us, so that we could only see their feet and triangular heads. And all was still; apparently they were all dead, and there were no wounded left behind in that endless field.
“Their number is growing.” said my brother.
He was standing at the window also, and all were there: my mother, sister and everybody that lived in the house. I could not distinguish their faces, and could recognise them only by their voices.
“It only seems so,” said my sister.
“No, it’s true. Just look.”
And, truly, there seemed to be more bodies. We looked attentively for the reason and found it: at the side of a corpse, where there was a free space, a fresh corpse suddenly appeared; apparently the earth was throwing them up. And all the unoccupied spaces filled rapidly, and the earth grew lighter from the light pink bodies, that were lying side by side with their feet towards us. And the room grew lighter filled with a light pink dead light.
“Look, there is not enough room for them,” said my brother.
And my mother answered:
“There is one here already.”
We looked round: behind us on the floor lay a naked, light pink body with its head thrown back. And instantly at its side there appeared a second, and a third. And the earth threw them up one after the other, and soon the orderly rows of light pink dead bodies filled all the rooms.
“They are in the nursery too,” said the nurse. “I saw them.”
“We must go away,” said my sister.
“But we cannot pass,” said my brother.
“Look!”
And sure enough, they were lying close together, arm to arm, and their naked feet were touching us. And suddenly they stirred and swayed and rose up in the same orderly rows: the earth was throwing up new bodies, and they were lifting the first ones upwards.
“They will smother us!” said I. “Let us save ourselves through the window.”
“We cannot!” cried my brother. “We cannot! Look what is there!”
….. Behind the window, in a livid, motionless light, stood the Red Laugh.
THE END
COPYRIGHT
Published in the UK by Dedalus Limited,
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ISBN printed book 978 0 946626 41 0
ISBN e-book 978 1 909232 72 3
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Publishing History
First published in Russia in 1905
First published by Dedalus in 1989
First ebook edition in 2013
This edition copyright © Dedalus 2013
Printed in Finland by W. S. Bookwell
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The Red Laugh (Dedalus European Classics) Page 8
