Read Darkness at Noon for Free Online Page B

defectives. ...”
    “You m-must understand, c-comrade,” said Richard in growing distress. “The t-tone of your propaganda material was wrong, b-because—”
    “Speak quietly,” said Rubashov suddenly in a sharp tone, “and don’t turn your head to the door.”
    A tall young man in the uniform of the black bodyguard of the régime had entered the room with his girl. The girl was a buxom blonde; he held her round her broad hip, her arm lay on his shoulder. They paid no attention to Rubashov and his companion and stopped in front of the trumpeting angels, with their backs to the sofa.
    “Go on talking,” said Rubashov in a calm, low voice and automatically took his cigarette case out of his pocket. Then he remembered that one may not smoke in museums and put the case back. The boy sat as if paralysed by an electric shock, and stared at the two. “Go on talking,” said Rubashov quietly. “Did you stammer as a child? Answer and don’t look over there.”
    “S-sometimes,” Richard managed to bring out with a great effort.
    The couple moved along the row of pictures. They stopped in front of a nude of a very fat woman, who lay on a satin couch and looked at the spectator. The man murmured something presumably funny, for the girl giggled and glanced fleetingly at the two figures on the sofa. They moved on a bit, to a still-life of dead pheasants and fruit.
    “Sh-shouldn’t we go?” asked Richard.
    “No,” said Rubashov. He was afraid that when they stood up the boy in his agitation would behave conspicuously. “They will soon go. We have our backs to the light; they cannot see us clearly. Breathe slowly and deeply several times. It helps.”
    The girl went on giggling and the pair moved slowly towards the way out. In passing, they both turned their heads towards Rubashov and Richard. They were just about to leave the room, when the girl pointed her finger at the pen drawing on the Pietà ; they stopped to look at it. “Is it very di-disturbing when I s-stammer?” asked Richard in a low voice, staring down at the floor.
    “One must control oneself,” said Rubashov shortly. He could not now let any feeling of intimacy creep into the conversation.
    “It will b-be b-better in a minute,” said Richard, and his Adam’s apple moved convulsively up and down. “Anny always laughed at me about it, you kn-now.” As long as the couple remained in the room, Rubashov could not steer the conversation. The back of the man in uniform nailed him down next to Richard. The common danger helped the boy over his shyness; he even slid a bit closer to Rubashov.
    “She was fond of me all the s-same,” he continued, whispering in another, quieter kind of agitation. “I n-never knew quite how to take her. She did not want to have the child, b-but she could not get rid of it. P-perhaps they won’t do anything to her as she is p-pregnant. You c-can see it quite clearly, you know. Do you think that they beat pregnant women, t-too?”
    With his chin, he indicated the young man in uniform. In the same instant the young man suddenly turned his head towards Richard. For a second they looked at each other. The young man in uniform said something to the girl in a low voice; she too turned her head. Rubashov again grasped his cigarette case, but this time let it go while still in his pocket. The girl said something and pulled the young man away with her. The pair of them left the gallery slowly, the man rather hesitatingly. One heard the girl giggling again outside and their footsteps receding.
    Richard turned his head and followed them with his eyes. As he moved, Rubashov gained a better view of the drawing; he could now see the Virgin’s thin arms up to the elbow. They were meagre, little girl’s arms, raised weightlessly towards the invisible shaft of the cross.
    Rubashov looked at his watch. The boy moved a bit further away from him on the sofa.
    “We must come to a conclusion,” said Rubashov. “If I understand you rightly,