"Are there a lot of you? In the circle, that is?"

"Oh, a small group, maybe six people… We don't manage to get together very often, but the conversation is very intense, we're so close…"

"With six of you it would be close… Are you all on the floor or what?"

"Why, everyone's where they like."

"Then how do you…"

"How do we fit? Well, my izba is miniscule, to be sure. I can't deny it, it's true. When everyone gets together, as you might expect, we're sometimes literally sitting on top of one another!"

"Uh huh… I'll come," Benedikt said quickly. "I'll come, wait for me."

So!… He had to get home right away and heat up the bath, wash, and then grab a jug of rusht-he couldn't go visiting with empty hands. Then… then he'd see. Oy, what were they going to do! Now he had to congratulate everyone and head home; Jackal wouldn't say anything-it was decreed: work, but take it easy. Benedikt bowed to Ksenia the Orphan:

"I wish you Wife and Mother and Grandmother and Niece and any other Little Girls happiness in life, success in work, a peaceful sky over your head."

She was thrilled.

"I've heard it so many times today already, but it's so nice! Every day should be like this!"

Jackal raised an eyebrow at her from his corner: that was Freethinking, that was. But he couldn't object: today they were only supposed to congratulate, not insult or anything. He'd probably let her have it tomorrow.

"Come for some of my pancakes this evening."

"I'm busy."

"Oh, what a pity. My pancakes are so fluffy!"

"I'm sure they are."

And that was a hint too. Her pancakes, she says, are so fluffy!… What if he went to both places?… Burn the candle at both ends? Olenka was looking at him from her stool… He should congratulate Olenka. With the others it was easy, but he was sort of scared with Olenka: he felt all shy and weak in the knees. He sat down next to Olenka and muttered: "I wish you Wife and Mother and Grandmother and Niece and any other Little Girls happiness in life, success in work, a peaceful sky over your head."

But Olenka laughed softly. "I'm not your wife, am I?…"

"But in the decree…"

"And without the decree?…"

Benedikt started sweating again: here it was, Women's Day, Woman's Holiday, that's what it was all about… Oh, that Fyodor Kuzmich, Glorybe… Just wait, next thing she'd be inviting him for bliny…

"… And without the Decree you mean there's no happiness in life?"

"Olenka… Olenka, I want happiness in life without the decree…"

"Well then?"

"I offer you my hand, heart, and pudendal," whispered Benedikt. He didn't expect such fine, frightening words from himself: they just leapt out of him.

"I accept," whispered Olenka.

"You accept?!"

"I accept… I accept it all…"

They sat in silence for a moment… What else was there to say… His heart was jumping… Oy, he did it!… He did it! What a day!

Glorybe to Fyodor Kuzmich!

So it's farewell to the bachelor life! You didn't sow your wild oats for very long, Benedikt Karpich! But that's just fine! Time to settle down. Benedikt ran home: it was still early, the coals in the stove hadn't gone out, he had to collect them and fire up the bath… Whew! He hadn't bathed since last year! In the new style, that is. January first used to be the New Year, but now they'd moved it, it turns out… He ran, nodded to women he met along the way-not his habit, but today you had to. He shouted out congratulations. He wished them all happiness in life. Nikita Ivanich trundled by, lugging a log-and Benedikt shouted to him, jokingly: "A peaceful sky above your head, Nikita Ivanich! No rain, nothing!" The old man jerked, turned around, and spat on the ground. Aha, he's thinking Benedikt took him for a woman!… But it was just a joke!

Olenka lives in a different settlement… not in ours… We're way over here, and she's right there. They agreed that he'd visit her on the May Holiday to meet her parents. Let's hope the weather will be good, bright… A peaceful sky overhead!… Not like today: lots of mud and a freezing rain…

He ran past a sleigh stuck in the mud: hopeless to travel in this weather. Three furry Degenerators stood on the roadside: a troika. They were resting with their boots off, smoking rusht, grinning at the Golubchiks. When they saw Benedikt they burst into laughter. "Running away from a heart attack, are you?…"

"If he don't catch up, at least he'll warm up!"

"Faster, faster, they'll close the garage!"

Shameless beasts. They harass people. But it's not worth paying them back in kind: they swear a sight better than we do. No one gets involved with them, not with Degenerators.

From hill to hill, along the lanes, sometimes through gardens, scrambling under a fence for a shortcut, Benedikt ran all the way home, threw open the bolts, rushed into the izba, flung open the stove damper: the coals are smoldering! Smoldering, Golubchik! He made it in time! Put in a little rusht, some firewood, bark chips; blow on the fire, let it play for a while; and as soon as it catches, take it to the bathhouse. Haul the water, find the branches from last year that were in the shed somewhere. There ought to be a brand-new washcloth… it was here… Now if he were married, he'd run home from work-and everything would be ready, the spiders swept away, the branches steamed up. Yes, but married men can't really go visiting women… "Where are you going, Benedikt? It's nighttime." "Well, you see… I have to… to talk about art…" "We know your art!… Huh! A real artful one you are." And she'd take the branches and thrash him six ways from Sunday… Would he and Olenka really fight like that? Nooo. Everything would be fine between them-otherwise, what was the point?

You'd get home-everything's ready, only you wouldn't have the same freedom. Well, so what. But his wife was a real beauty! And freedom-well, what's freedom… Right now he was free, but he couldn't find the washcloth-could they really have pinched it? No, he was in luck again: he found the cloth in the bathhouse under a stone; a little moldy, but he found it. What a day today: everything is working out.

He sat and enjoyed the steam, rubbed himself all over with the washcloth, beat himself red with the branches, and inspected his body from every angle his eyes could reach: gorgeous! If a neighbor glanced in the window right now, he'd be envious. Benedikt even envied himself. No wonder the women praised him: "Marvelously developed, we expect a lot from you!" Just wait, I'll dry off and-I'm all yours. Would all six be there, or what? Never mind, God willing, I'll manage! They sit on top of each other… whew!

He scraped the coals in a pile: maybe they'd last longer that way. Probably not till morning, though. He could get some coals from Varvara. But why? In the morning he had to go to work, anyway. Oh, what a lot of fuss and bother! Benedikt scattered the coals again: God forbid there should be a fire. It was a tricky thing, fire: if it went out, you might as well lie down and die; if it flared up too much, it would burn everything right down to the ground like nothing was ever there! That's fire for you. It's skittish. It needs food, it's always hungry, just like a man. Gimme, gimme, gimme! But if you overfeed it, it'll gobble you up.

If there's a fire somewhere, the Golubchiks come running from all around, from all the settlements, sometimes from the farthest reaches. A huge crowd gathers like on the October Holiday. They surround the burning house and stand there, arms folded on their chests, watching… No one talks out loud, they just whisper: "Yikes, look at that pillar of flame…" "Look, look, over there the corner's caught!"… And the flames rush and tear about, not exactly like pillars, but like a tree, like the jeopard tree in spring-it dances and hums, twists and turns, but stays put. You turn to look at the Golubchiks: they stand there staring and the fire dances in their eyes too, it's reflected like in water, it splashes. The crowd has a thousand eyes, and water and fire lap in each and every one, like dawn rising on the river. It makes you feel strange and wild inside, no mistake, water and fire don't mix, but here they are together!