The Case of Comrade Tulayev (New York Review Books Classics)

by Victor Serge

“You didn’t finish your sentence, I believe?” “On the contrary.” Among the students grouped at the edge of the sidewalk, an amazingly blond and beautiful girl was explaining something, gesturing vividly with both hands; at that distance her fingers seemed to hold the light, and she threw her head back a little to laugh more freely. Distant as a star, inaccessible and real as a star, her head did not feel Fleischman’s dull eyes staring at it. The Deputy High Commissar for Security, the Prosecutor of the Supreme Tribunal, the Investigatress appointed to the most serious cases, waited for Fleischman to express his opinion. Aware of their expectation, he resumed firmly: “The preliminary investigation must be closed.” Turning until he almost faced them, he looked at the three, one after the other, giving each a pleasant nod, as if he had just said something most important — three repugnant, corrupt faces, composed of some horrible gelatinous substance … And I am ugly too, my complexion is greenish, I have a bestial jowl and puffy eyelids … We ought to be put out of the way … And now you are in a fine fix, my dear comrades, because that is all I intend to say.