"Isaac_Babel_The_Death_of_Dolgushov" - читать интересную книгу автора (Babel Isaac)

"Why do women go through all the trouble?' he answered even sadder. "Why all the proposals and marriages, and having fun at the weddings?"

A pink tail shined in the sky, then faded away. The Milky Way emerged through the stars.

"It makes me laugh," said Grishchuk sorrowfully and pointed his whip at a man sitting on the side of the road. "It makes me laugh that women go to all that trouble."

The man sitting on the road was Dolgushov, the telephone operator. Spreading out his legs, he stared at us.

"I'm done for, you see?" said Dolgushov as we approached. "We see", answered Grishchuk, stopping the horses.

"You'll have to waste a cartridge on me," said Dolgushov.

He sat leaning against a tree. His boots were sticking out in different directions. Without lowering his eyes from my gaze, he carefully pulled back his shirt. His stomach had been ripped open, his intestines were hanging on his knees, and you could see the beating of his heart.

"The Poles'll show up and have their fun. Here are my documents. Write my mother and tell her what happened."

"No," I answered and spurred on my horse.

Dolgushov laided his blue palms on the ground at looked at them distrustfully..

"You're running away?" he muttered, sliding down. "You're running, you louse."

Sweat crawled down along my body. Machine guns tapped out faster and faster with hysterical insistence. Framed in the nimbus of the sunset, Afonka Bida galloped up to us.

"We're really giving it to them," he shouted out happily. What's all the hub-bub here?"

I pointed out Dolgushov to him and rode away.

They spoke briefly. I didn't hear their words. Dolgushov held his papers out to the platoon commander. Afonka hid the papers in his boot and shot Dolgushov in the mouth.

"Afonka," I said, riding up to the Cossack with a pitiful smile, "I just couldn't".

"Go away," he said, growing pale. "I'll kill you. You guys in glasses have as much pity for our boys as a cat does for a mouse." And he cocked his rifle.

I rode away at a walk, not turning around, feeling cold and death at my back.

"Bona," Grishchuk shouted out behind me, "stop fooling around." And he grabbed Afonka by the arm.

"The goddamn lackey," shouted Afonka, "He's not gonna get off that easy."

Grishchuk caught up with me at the turn in the road. Afonka wasn't there. He had ridden off in the opposite direction.

"You see, Grishchuk," I said, "today I lost my Afonka, my best friend."

Grishchuk pulled a shriveled apple out from underneath his seat.

"Eat," he told me. "Please, eat."

THE END