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Updated: June 25, 2025
He had no hate for the Austrian gunners, because he had seen Samarc and Spenski at the same work, and he knew that the heart of man changes in a day. He would have helped the little undersurgeon had he been there. A moujik arose from his knees in front of them, as they staggered on. He was stunned, bewildered, blinded, but he could hear. "Come on we're going back," Peter said.
In the first days they told me about Spenski his remarkable workmanship and pointed out the wiry, red-headed little chap with the quick imperative smile you've seen. We got on well together from the first. It has been no small thing for me that he likes my ways. I got him in this service, by the way, and I don't know whether I'm very proud of that.
Now Peter saw none but Spenski, until Samarc reached him, lifted, called. Peter saw the body raised from the ground to Samarc's arms saw the little man's body open upon his friend like a melon that has rotted underneath. All went black for Peter. The slope rose up and took him.
"Well, if a trainload of strange women can do that to you here's hoping we never do Paris together." Little Spenski opposite had seen the outstretched hands, and Peter saw that he had seen. And now a rainy field. Two days of cold wind and rain after the cattle-cars; a different tone and temper from the men, coughing instead of laughter at night-fall.
Facing each other, Mowbray thought of Spenski as if the little lens- maker stood behind the narrow shoulders of the poet.... Was it only the little red-headed body that they had killed"? Would the immortal come back with a new story of the stars? Thus Peter found himself thinking of Spenski, with this lover of new Russia before him.
Spenski had been partly kneeling, but as Samarc approached, his head bowed slowly down, and the smile was gone. "Come on they'll do it again!" Peter heard the words but did not know who spoke them possibly Boylan from behind, possibly he had said it. He had not seen Samarc's lips move. The voice was an offense in that silence.
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