Blooms of Darkness

48

Yesterday the blizzard seemed to be dying down, but it turns out to be just a pause. From hour to hour the winds grow stronger, and in the morning the yard and the fields are covered with snowdrifts. Not a living soul can be seen outside. In The Residence, everything is drunkenness, the gobbling of chocolate and cookies, singing, and declarations. “What we did for the Germans, we’ll do for the Russians now. It’s not for nothing that we call our profession the oldest one. Since ancient times, men have needed women. Everybody understands that in our line of work, one isn’t choosy about one’s clients. Whoever comes, comes. Today Germans, tomorrow Russians.”

“The Russians are jealous.”

“We’ll serve them just the way we served the Germans — even better, because the Ukrainians and the Russians are brother nations.” That is Masha’s voice. It has a housewife’s practicality. Because of her orderly way of speaking and because she is older, they call her “Our Masha.”

Hugo can identify most of them, but not by name. Each of them has a nickname, except for Kitty. Since she was beaten, Kitty’s face has turned yellowish blue, and her eyes have sunk into their sockets. She doesn’t complain, but her bruised presence keeps asking, What’s bad about me that annoys the strong women? True, I’m not big, and I’m not strong. Do they have to hit me because ofthat? Sylvia, the cleaning woman, takes pity on the weak and the stricken, and she makes applesauce for Kitty, saying, “This will strengthen you and make you healthy.”

Every moment brings a new surprise. In the evening one of the women says to Mariana, “What a darling boy you have. Why do you keep him only to yourself? We want to pet him a little, too.”

“You should be ashamed of yourself. He’s just a child,” Masha scolds her in a motherly voice.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, just to pet him. Come, boy, come to me.”

Hugo freezes in his place and says nothing.

Mariana responds with repressed anger. “Leave him alone.”

“You’re horribly selfish,” says the woman with venom.

“Selfish?” Mariana’s face grows tense.

“To keep him just to yourself. What is that, if not selfishness?”

“I ran a risk and protected him. Is that what you call selfishness?”

“Don’t play the innocent. We know each other too well.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“I’m not mistaken.”

Masha intervenes. “Why fight?” she says. “He belongs to us all.”

“I don’t agree,” says Mariana. “Hugo’s mother was my childhood friend. I promised her that I would protect him until my last breath.”

“Every woman needs a child. Every woman longs for her own child. Why keep us from a little stroke and a kiss? It’s very natural,” says Masha in her motherly voice.

“I know her well,” says Mariana, without looking at the woman who asked to caress him.

“There’s no need to fight. In a little while the blizzard will die down, and everybody will go her own way. Who knows when we’ll meet again. Why not part in friendship? Life is short. Who knows what’s in store for us?” says Masha, sounding like a woman worried about her family.

Masha was prophesying without knowing it. Suddenly the whirling of the blizzard stops, and everyone stands at the windows and looks out. They can’t believe their eyes. Silent snow covers the houses and the fields. There is neither man nor beast, just whiteness on top of whiteness, and a silence you can feel through the windows.

“This period has come to an end,” says one of the women, pleased with how the sentence has struck her mouth.

“What period are you talking about?” the question soon comes.

“My ten years in this place: the room, the hall, Madam, the guard, the guests, the vacations, all the good and the bad. In a little while the Russians will come, and everything will be destroyed. Now do you understand?”

“For me there’s no difference. How does that change things?”

“There is a difference. The Russians will come and flog us. The guard said it clearly, ‘Everyone who slept with the Germans will be sentenced to death.’ They’ll hang us in the city square, and the whole city will come and see our execution.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not exaggerating. I’m saying just what they said and just what my heart says: the Russians are already preparing the scaffolds. They know no mercy.”

Victoria stands like a bastion. “You mustn’t fear,” she repeats. “Fear degrades us. God is our father. He loves us and He will have mercy on us. You mustn’t give in to imaginings and false wishes. From now on, every woman must say to herself: As I sinned, so I sinned. Now I deliver myself to the hands of God. May heaven guide me. I’m willing to do just what they tell me to do from on high. People are evil, only God is pure.”

Victoria speaks with religious devotion, but the women don’t listen to her. They stand at the windows, wondering and trembling. Even after darkness falls and it is night, they don’t move from the windows.

To her credit, Victoria doesn’t let them wallow in their fears. “It doesn’t matter what those in power do,” she keeps saying. “What matters is what God does. Fear of people is a sin. Overcome fear, stand straight, and walk toward God. Our Lord Jesus did not fear when they nailed Him to the cross, because He and God were one. Whoever clings to His virtues wins the kingdom of heaven. Remember what I’m telling you.”

They all look at her in astonishment. No one comments, and no one asks a question.

Suddenly one of the drunken women puts out her hand and says to Hugo, “Darling, come to me. I want to hug you.”

“Leave him alone,” Mariana says dismissively.

Immediately they all scatter, each to her own room.