It \\;is llic moment P e t y a lunl waited for: The i;irl he IOM'II \v;itche<l liiin from tlie audience, and

tlie stage was liis alone.

BY YEVGENY ZAMYATIN
Tran^hited by MIRRA GINSBURG t all began with an utterly fantastic event: The lion, that magnificent king of the beasts, got stinking drunk. He kept stumbling on all four paws and keeling over on his side. It was a catastrophe. The lion attended Lenmgrad University and at the same tnne worked as an extra at the ballet theater. In today's perfunnance, he was to stand on a cliff, dressed in a lion skin, and wait to be struck by a spear thrown by the heroine. Then the dead lion would fall from the cliff onto a mattress backstage. Everything had gone excellently during rehearsals, but now, (jn the day of the premiere, a half hour before curtam time, the hon played his swinish trick. There were no substitute extras, and the show could not be canceled: It was to be attended by a People's Commissar who had just arrived from Moscow. The director called an emergency meeting in his office. There was a knock at the door, and the theater fireman, Petya Zherebyakin, entered the room. The director shouted at him, "Well, what is It? What do you want? I have no time now! Get the hell out!" "IGjmrade DirectorI mean, about the lion," said the fireman. "Well, what about the lion?" "I mean, as our lion is plastered, maybe I could play the lion. Comrade Director, . . ." I don't know whether there are bears with freckle^ and blue eye>, but if there are such bears, then the hulking Zherebyakin, in his huge, peasant boots, was much more like a bear than a lion. Could he, by some miracle, be made into a lion? He swore he could; ht swore that he had watched all the- rehearsals from the wings and that back in hi-, soldier days he had played in The Emperor Maximilian. And, just to spite the stage manager, who had permitted himself a crooked grin, the director ordered Zherebyakin to dress up instantly and try for the part.

A few moments later the musicians on the stage began to play the lion's march. The lion, Petya Zherebyakin, stepped out in his lion skin as though he had been bom in the Libyan Desert instead of in a village in the province of Ryazan, But at the last moment, when he was supposed to fall from the cliff, he looked downand stood petnfied, "Fall, you devil! Go on, fall!" the stage manager screamed at him furiously. The hon obediently plopped down. He fell heavily on his back and lay there, unable to get up. Was there to be another catastrophe at the very last moment? He was helped up. He climbed out of the skin and stood there, clutching his back and smiling in confusion. One of his upper teeth was missing, and this made his smile pathetic and childlike. Fortunately, there were no serious injuries. He asked for water, and the director ordered a glass of tea to be brought from his of!ice. After Petya Zherebyakin had drunk the tea. the director exhorted him, "All right, my fnend, you've called yourself a hon. Now, climb back into the skin! Go on, climb, brother, and quick. We're starting soon!" Somebody obligingly offered Zherebyakin the skin, but he refused to climb into it. He declared that he must leave the theater for a moment, refusing to explain why and only grinning in embarrassment. The director flew into a temper. He tried to order Zherebyakin to obey, reminding him that he was a candidate for party membership, that he was a shock worker, but the shock-worker lion stubbornly persisted. They had to give in. Beaming his gap-toothed smile, Petya Zherebyakin rushed out of the theater, "Where the devil is he off to?" the director asked everybody, turning red with rage. "What's tbe secret?" Nobody could enlighten the director. The
Illustrated by Bruce Johnson

only one who knew the answer was Petya Zherebyakin. Now, while he is hurrying through the autumn rain, let us slip away for a moment to the June night three months earlier when the secret was bom. That night there was no night, but only the long, northem day. In the rosy glass of the canals, the upside-down trees, windows and columns of old imperial Petersburg dozed lightly. And suddenly there was the faintest breeze, and the image of Petersburg vanished. In its place was the newly renamed city of Leningrad, with the red fiag over the Winter Palace stirnng in the wind and a militiaman with a rifle standing near the wrought-iron fence of the Alexandrovsky Garden. The militiaman was surrounded by a band of night workers. From behind their backs, Petya Zherebyakin could see only the militiaman's face, round and smooth like a Ryazan honey apple. Something very strange was taking place: The men were pawing at the militiaman's hands and shoulders, and finally one of the workers, stretching out his lips, tenderly smacked him on the cheek. The militiaman tumed purple and furiously blew his whistle. The workers scattered. Petya Zherebyakin remained alone face to face with the militiamanand then the militiaman changed just as suddenly as the mirrored Petersburg, when it was ruffled by the wind. Zherebyakin saw before him a girl in a militia unifomi and cap, the first militiawoman posted by the Revolution on Nevsky Prospect. Her black eyebrows met angrily over her nose, and sparks flew from her eyes. "Shame on you, comrade!" That was all she said to Petya Zherebyakin, but how she said it! He was unnerved and multered guiltily, "I swear to God, it wasn't me! I was just going home, . . ." "You . , , A worker, too!" The militia73

If you read
The Snturdav Evening

THE LION_
woiiKiii l o o k e d Ell h i m , l i n t h o w !^he II t l u ' i i ' hiid bi't'ii il lriii)d<iiir in I h e

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Zhorebyakin would hiive into it, find that would have been a bk'ssiiiK. Bul he was forced to 'inxir-ty walk olT slowly, foclinK t'yi's on his back you're a shock wwker! Ihat burned him throuiih and throuRh. don't mesa it up!" the d\T':r-_r>T The next ni^ht wiis asain a northern whispered inUj the lion's white nifiht. and a^jiin comrade Zhcrebynkin walked hnnif from his job at Tne ojrtain began to rise, and beIhe thuater, and a^ain the militiayond thp blazing line of Ifxjtli^u the woman stood at her post by the gate hon saw tho dark hall, filled to the Ujp of the Ak'xandrovsky darden, Zhewith the white blurs of laces. Once, rebyakin wanted to sliii by, but he long ago, wben he had still been Zhenoticed her looking at him and greeted rebyakin, he had climbed out of a her with guilty confusion. She nodded. trench, with shells explrtding around Dawn (gleamed on Ihe mirror-black him. At each explosion, he had jumped steel of her rille, and the steel seemed and crossed himself by old peasant pink, Zherobyakin trembled before habit; nevertheless, he had continued this pink rillc more than he had to run forward. Now it seemed to him trembled before all the rilles that had that he could not take a single step. lired at him for five years on various But the stage manager gave him a fronts. push, and he dragged himself wiih suddenly alien hands and feet onto the Not until a week later did he dare cliff. address the militiawoman. It tumed out that she was also from the Ryazan On the summit of the cliff, the lion province and still remembered the raised his head and saw, quite near him, hnney apples of their native Ryazan. in the second-tier Ioge, the militiaSweet, with just a touch of bitterness, w^oman, Katya; she was looking straight Tliere were no such apples here, . . , at him. The lion heart thumped loudly once, twice, and stopped. He shivered; Every night, on his way home. Zherebyakin stopi>ed at the Ale\androvsky The bell for the curtain shrilled in his fate hung m the balance, and the Garden, The white nights had gone al- the smoking room, the corridors, and spear was already flying at him. together mad, and the preen, rose and the foyer of the theater. The bald- Wham Iand it struck his side. Now copper sky never darkened for a second. headed People's Commissar squinted he must fall. But what if he made a In the garden, embracing couples through his pince-nez from the ioge. mistake and spoiled ever>-thing? He ' was more terrisougbt the shade, as in the daytime. fied than he had to escape being e\-er been in his seen. life, much more t b a n when he It was on such a climbed out of the night that Zheretrench. byakin asked the militiawoman, The audience clum&ily, in bearalready had nolike fashion, "And ticed that sometell me. for exthing was wron? ample, are you on stage: The militiawomen almortally H ounded lowed to get marlion was standing ried during the motionless on the performance ot cliff, looking duty? I mean, not down. Those in during actual perthe front rows lormance, but heard the stage generallyseeing manager's desas your service is perate whisper, military-like . . ." "Fall, you devil, "\Vhy get mar fall!" And then ried?" Katya the came something militiawoman altogether lantasasked, leaning on tic: The lion raised her rifle. "Were his right paw, now like men If rapidly crossed we want to, we h i m s e l f , and love lust the d r o p p e d Irom same. . . , ' the clift like a stone. Her rille was A moment ol rose-colored The stunned silence militiawoman raised her lace to followed, and the feverishly then like a deadly. flaming sky, then b u r s t i n g shell, looked off somewild laughter exwhere past Zhereploded in the hall byakin and added, Tears ot laughter "For example, il r a n down the there was a man cheeks ot Katya who wrote poems themilitiawoman Or an actor, who'd Backstage, o:\ come out, and the the mattress, the whoifi tbeatei s t r i c k e n lion vould clap . . ," sobbed, biding his A loney apple, m u z z l e in his bittereweet. Petya rviws L 'Ai ihp. riak of sounding like a Monday-morning quarteTback-

ZlitTcbyakin undersMxid lli;i' h-' li;id bc'tlcr go and never return again: Me wys (i[iinhc(l. Uul iKi, he wasn't! There JHC miracles nn carlli! When (he iiicrediblc (.'Vcnt took pliicf, and the lion, by the diaof the I/ird, got himself IVtya Zhcrcbyakin harl a mighty inwiiiration and rushed to Ihu director's study, . , . However, all Ihis was a matter of Ul 3 past. Now he was speeding ihrouKh the autumn rain to Cilinka Street, w here he knew the tnilitiawnman lived. Luckily, it was right around the corner from the theater, and, luckily, he found Katya at home. At this moment, however, she was not a militiawoman, but simply Katya, Her sleeves rolled up, she was laundering a white blouse in a basin. There were dewdrops on her nose and forehead, and she had never seemed more desirable than now. When Zherebyakin told her that he was playing in the show that night and gave her a free pass, she did not believe him. Then she became interested. Then for some reason, she turned shy and rolled down her sleeves. Then she looked at him- -but how she looked! and said that she would come, without fail.

Or, Ih.' Htagc, behind the still i:urlain, balltTinas \mm\'nn\ hihiH, with Ihe K'^luri-of ing thejr wings as they lowtrr mwlves into Ihc water. And bf-hind the cliff near the lion, the staKe manam and the director were frenzied wjth

74