The daily worker. [volume] (Chicago, Ill.) 1924-1958, 1924-04-26

down on the sofa, to get up after an
hours nap and resume playing. The
women left the room at daybreak and
came back at noon. The room seemed
like the faces of the players, bag
gard and drawn; the air was dense
with smoke and charged with alcohol.
The mind, exhausted with extreme
concentration, wandered over the
round table, the carpet-covered and
dust-smelling sofa. The mind of the
writer, Iakov Kamynin, was dense
gray like the smoke-filled room; and
black, pitch black was the mind of
the voyenospetz Tanatar. Doctor
Fedoroff had gone to bed long before
and was now speaking in his sleep.
Kamynin was probably right when he
said to the newcomers:
"Have a smoke. Cards, you know,
are the only miracle in the world
Must be. That is why they are worth
several sleepless nights. A miracle!
Who does not dream of it? Queen
of Spades, King of Trumps, and Nine
the unique miracle. And beauty
And woman-another miracle"
Kamynin, while playing, was writ
ing at the same time mechanically on
his calendar.
"The miracle Of days"
The women came in the afternoon,
after some hours of sleep. They
cooked potatoes for the men. Kamy-
Minis wife, however, Trina peeled po-
tatoes not for her husband, nor for
anyone else but Tanatar. Kamynin
himself, hardly able to stand on his
thin legs, was also peeling potatoes,
while his eyes looked somewhere far
beyond. And Trina came and put her
head not on her husbands shoulder
but on Tanatar's.
"Have you lost?" she asked in a
low voice.
Lost everything" And Tanatar
smiled naively. "Regimental can"
"Much?"
1.-TWO hundred"
"Thousands?"
eyes"
"Who got them?"
Cant recall. Iakov, l think. Any
how, it has been all spent on vodka"
Come to my room, shall put you
to bed"
"All right, put me to bed" And
Tanatar smiled naively and heIplessly.
us it still showing outsider"
mo, the storm is past"
Nobody had ever seen Assyrian
women, but everybody was certain
they must have looked like Trina.
Cup-like breasts, almond-shaped eyes,
hair like that of the stony Ariman,
stiff horse hair hanging in plaits on
her bosom, face and body almost
square, almost stone-like and yet mo-
bile like those of a circus woman.
Trina had, in fact, once been a circus
rider in Odessa.
The men finished drinking, crowded
into the corners like flies on an au-
tumn day and, keeping their military
and fur coats on, went to sleep. The
women were preparing the costumes
for the evening masquerade. In the
kitchen, the orderlies of the voyenos-
petz took hand now at playing
cards. Kamynin remained sitting at
the table, where the game had been
going on. He was writing in his cal
endar and drinking what was still left
in the glasses. The adjutant, Prince
Trubetzkoy sat beside him. They
spoke to each other listlessly. Be-
fore 1917, the prince was owner of
property extending over several
streets in Moscow as well as of some
estates in the Government of Moscow,
Tambov, Veronej and Poltava. Kamy-
min himself had owned whole town
in the West of Russia, and his for
mer forests, wood-mills, mines, and
factories were scattered thru several
governments, he himself could not
tell exactly where.
''Let us send for another bottle of
cognac, Prince" said Kamynin lazily.
'Tt would be best to take a hath