winded from running. He didn’t remember flying out of the Slavyanskaya Hotel, or running across the bridge, and then right across the empty Smolensky market.
And even on Arbat Street he still wasn’t himself. He couldn’t run any longer, but he didn’t think to sit down and take a rest. He staggered along the dark street like an old man, croaking and gasping. And he kept looking round, all the time; he still thought he could see the Kalmyk behind him, with his torn-open throat.
The way things had turned out, he was the one who killed the horse-trader and his man. It was all his fault. If he hadn’t wanted to impress the Prince, if he hadn’t pointed out the hiding place, the Kalmyks would still be alive. But he had to go and blab, didn’t he? He was Speedy the Bandit, was he not?
But by Theatre Square, Senka was asking himself another question: what kind of damn bandit are you? A lousy worm of a bandit, that’s what you are. Oh, Semyon Spidorov, you haven’t got the stomach for real man’s work now, do you?
He felt so ashamed for running away, he couldn’t bear it. As he walked along Maroseika Street, he called himself every name he could think of, abused himself something rotten, but as soon as he remembered the Kalmyks, it was clear as day: there was no way back into the deck now. The Prince and his gang might forgive him –he could lie and say his stomach was turned or make up something else, but he couldn’t lie to himself. If Senka was a businessman, a cow was a thoroughbred.
Oh, the shame of it.
Senka’s legs carried him to the Yauza Boulevard before he had any idea where he was heading.
He sat on a bench for a while and got frozen right through. Then he paced up and down for a while. It started to get light. And it wasn’t until he realised he was walking past Death’s house for the third time that he understood what pain was gnawing hardest at his heart. He stopped in front of the door and suddenly his hand reached out of its own accord, so it did, and knocked. Loudly.
He felt scared and wanted to turn and run. He decided he would just hear the sound of her footsteps, her voice. When she asked ‘Who’s there?’ he would scarper.
The door opened without a sound and without any warning. There were no footsteps, no questions.
Death appeared in the doorway. The loose hair flowing down over her shoulders was black, but all the rest of her was white: the nightshirt, the lacy shawl on her shoulders. And her feet – Senka was looking down at them – they were white too, the tips were peeping out from under the hem of her nightshirt.
Well, well, she never even asked who was knocking at that time in the morning. She was fearless, all right. Or was it all the same to her?
She was surprised to see Senka. ‘You? Did the Prince send you? Has something happened?’
He shook his hanging head.
Then she got angry: ‘What are you doing here at this unearthly hour? Why are you hiding your eyes, you little beast?’
All right, so he looked up. And then he couldn’t look down again –he was lost in wonder. Of course, the dawn played a little trick of its own, peeping out from behind the roofs with its pink glow, lighting up the top of the doorway and Death’s face and shoulders.
‘Well, aren’t you going to say something?’ she said, frowning. ‘You look like a ghost. And your shirt’s torn.’
That was when Senka noticed that his shirt really was torn from the collar to the sleeve and it was hanging all askew. He must have snagged it on something when he was running out from the hotel.
‘What’s this, are you hurt?’ asked Death. ‘You’ve got blood on you.’
She reached out a hand and rubbed the spot of dried blood on his cheek. Senka guessed some of the spray must have hit him when the horse-trader’s blood came spurting out.
But Death’s finger was hot, and her touch came as such a surprise that Senka suddenly burst into tears.
He stood there, blubbing away, the tears streaming down his face. He felt terribly ashamed, but he simply couldn’t stop. He tried hard to force them back, but they kept breaking through – it was so pitiful, just like a little puppy whimpering! Then Senka started cursing like he’d