on your trip?”
He followed her and helped her into her coat. “That would be lovely.”
“May one know where you’re going?”
He smiled thoughtfully. “A city where it’s never hot, not even in summer.”
Don’t know, don’t guess, Anna thought. As though she wanted to prevent him from talking anymore, she flung her arms around his neck, pressed herself against him for a long time, longer than usual, and ran out of the apartment and down the stairs without turning around.
TWENTY-THREE
The city looked strange to Anna as she made her way home, but she knew it was her and not the city; her perceptions were peculiarly heightened. She walked down the stairs into the Kurskaya Metro station. There were four ticket windows, each with a long line in front of it. Anna decided to try number three. After standing in place for ten minutes without moving, she stepped out and walked up to the front of the queue.
“So impatient, young lady?” someone said. “We’re waiting, too.”
The first person in line was a man whose hat was pulled down low over his forehead; a dog was sitting next to him. The man’s face beamed with patience and serenity, and he seemed uninterested in accelerating the process. The ticket window was opaque, either misted up from the dampness or covered with dust—in any case, the person on the other side couldn’t be seen. Anna spotted a small piece of paper stuck to the glass, with writing so tiny she had to stand inches away from it before she could read it. It gave notice that the window was temporarily closed. The behavior of the person who was first in line seemed inscrutable to Anna until she took a good look at his dog. It wore a white collar, and the leash the man was holding was attached to a long staff. Why hadn’t the people behind him noticed that they were lined up behind a blind man at a closed ticket window? The second and third positions were occupied by a young couple, holding hands and whispering as they gazed into each other’s eyes. Next came a stout woman, staring into space and talking to herself. Then there was a newspaper reader, followed by a listless Asiatic man who kept his eyes fixed on the tips of his shoes. Not a single one of them was interested in why the line wasn’t moving; there they stood, acquiescing to their circumstances, while time rolled on by.
That’s the way we are, Anna thought. Herd animals. We get crammed into situations where any people would protest, any people but Russians! We’re content with a little reassurance, and we’ll put up with anything. Nobody thinks to ask why window number three is closed! Window number three is closed everywhere in the country, but we don’t want to know what’s behind the glass or what takes place over our heads. We live like the bottom range of a pyramid, pressed down from above and bearing the entire burden. We’ve been told we’re the most modern, most forward-looking society in the world. But what do we do? Stand in front of a blank window and wait. Surrender, accept, wait! “Window three is closed!” Anna cried, venting her rage.
Heads turned; people exchanged expressionless looks. Finally, they began to move, one by one, abandoning that queue to try their luck in the next. Anna informed the blind man that he had nothing to hope for from the window in front of him. He thanked her and, without losing any of his serenity, betook himself to the end of line number four.
Even if you shake people out of their apathetic acceptance, Anna thought, do they use the opportunity to give some thought to their situation? No, on the contrary; as quickly as possible, they look for the security of the familiar and start cooling their heels again somewhere nearby. And meanwhile—Anna’s eyes turned upward—life presents itself in all its variety directly over their heads! Sometime in the past, before everything became so gray and resigned, revolutionaries built these vaults. Though a hundred feet underground, those men had been informed by the desire to make something beautiful, which Anna read as an outcry against everything deadening. High overhead, luminaires cast their gilded light into niches where amber statues stood, alert figures that seemed on the point of coming to life. A hunter urged his dog to the chase; a muscular woman offered the observer a plate; a student bent over his book. The early heroes