"Евгения Фрейзер. The House by the Dvina (Дом на Двине, Мемуары) (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

there was a stream of cold air and the clean smell of snow.
Suddenly there was a shrill sound of a clanging bell. A voice, loud and
urgent, was calling out, "All passengers for Archangel!"
Petya stood up. "Time for us to go, Jenya," he said. He took my hand
and we went into the cold and frost. We walked slowly towards the train.
I was suddenly possessed by an anxiety and fear that we might miss the
train and perhaps never see Archangel. I would have run ahead if it wasn’t
for the greater fear of being lost in the crowd. We reached our carriage
door and Petya still kept talking to his friends. The second bell rang. I
remember being lifted, kissed soundly, Russian-style, on each cheek, and
pushed inside.
"Proshchaitye" . . . "Goodbye" . . . "Prieszhaitye v Arhangelsk" . .
. "Come to Archangel." The usual farewells and invitations, sincere for
the moment, for of course we never saw them again. The third and final
bell rang its warning. The wheels began once more their monotonous dirge.
Tomorrow we would be in Archangel.
Our compartment was again shared by two young men. They played cards,
talked a lot and ignored me most of the time. Back beside the window I
watched the woods that seemed to get darker and more forbidding as we
continued climbing north. At times the train halted at some wayside
station. There would be a banging of doors, loud voices, some passengers
leaving and others joining the train.
The sun changed from a golden yellow to a deep vermilion and vanished
somewhere behind the trees. Night came down. I peered into the darkness
that seemed to come so early, but there was nothing to see beyond some
pinpointed lights in the distance.
Petya had recognised a few friends and took me along to their
compartment. They, in turn, kept coming and going and as usual had endless
discussions. The hours went by so slowly. I climbed back to my bunk and
played with my chocolate mice. They became a little soft and began to lose
their shape. I cannot remember what happened to that precious box in the
end. In the excitement of leaving the train I must have forgotten it and
left it behind me.
I was awakened next morning by the sound of voices and the tinkling of
glasses. Our two neighbours were up. They had pushed up the bunks against
the wall, and sitting together with Petya were drinking their tea. "Nu
vot, Jenya" . . . "Now then, Jenya," Petya called to me, handing up a
glossy kalach. "We shall soon be in Archangel." How soon, I wondered? It
was dark as night outside, although it was morning. We were travelling
through the north where nature spreads her dark mantle over this land for
the best part of the year and the sun comes out for just a little while.
It had been snowing through the night. The giant snowflakes clung to the
window like some fluffy moths.
The passengers were gathering their belongings and preparing to leave
the train. We too began to put all our baggage in order.
The night before, as I settled down for the night, Petya had advised me
to take off my dress and fold it neatly at the foot of my bunk beside my
shoes. Now he brought everything down and pushed my bunk against the wall.
After I was dressed, he removed a towel and soap box from my travelling
case and ordered me to go to the end of the corridor and wash my face. He