For the Good of the Cause by Alexander Solzhenitsyn Read Free Book Online Page A

bright yellow shirt with the sailboats on it smirked and said to his girl friends:
    “What did I tell you? Always the same old story. And mark my words, that’s not the end of it.”
    They began to shout questions:
    “But can’t we finish it ourselves?”
    The principal smiled and said:
    “I see you want to do everything yourselves now! But I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
    The girls standing in front tried hard to make him change his mind: “But, sir, can’t we move in anyway? What still has to be done?”
    The principal, a heavy-set man with a high forehead, looked at them in some embarrassment:
    “Come now, girls, surely I don’t have to give you all the details? … First of all, the floors are still not dry in spots …”
    “Then we won’t walk on them! We’ll put boards across them!”
    “Then a lot of windows still don’t have catches.”
    “That doesn’t matter, it’s still warm enough.”
    “The central heating hasn’t been tested yet.”
    “That’s nothing. That can wait till winter.”
    “On, and a lot of other little things …”
    Fyodor gestured helplessly. His forehead was a mass of wrinkles. How could he explain to them all the formalities involved in taking over the building? A deed of transfer had to be signed by the builders and by the other contracting party. The builder was ready to sign and hand over the building right away. And Fyodor was now so pressed for time that he too would have signed right away if only the school were the other contracting party. But this was impossible from a legal point of view, because the school had no one competent to make the required survey. Therefore the building office of the local relay factory had placed the contract on the school’s behalf. The plant was in no hurry to sign for the building before it was quite ready, especially since it meant infringing on the regulations. Khabalygin, the manager of the plant, had been promising Fyodor all summer long that he would sign for the building in August, come what may. But recently he had been saying: “Nothing doing, Comrades. We won’t sign the deed before they’ve put in the last screw.” And technically he was right.
    The girls went on plaintively:
    “Oh, we do so want to move. Our hearts are set on it so.”
    “ Why are you so set on it?” Chursanov shouted at them. He was standing on slightly higher ground than the others. “Whatever happens we’ve got to put in a month on a kolkhoz. Who cares which building we go from—this one or the other?”
    “Oh, yes, the kolkhoz!” They suddenly remembered. Working on the building site all summer they had forgotten about the farm work.
    “We won’t be going this year,” Lidia called out from the back.
    It was only now that the principal noticed her.
    “Why aren’t we going? Why not?” they asked her.
    “You should read the local paper, my friends. Then you’d know why.”
    “I bet we’ll go anyway.”
    The principal pushed his way through the crowd and moved toward the door. Lidia caught up with him on the stairway, which was just wide enough for two people.
    “Fyodor Mikheyevich! But they will let us have it in September, won’t they?”
    “Yes, they will,” he replied absently.
    “We’ve worked out a wonderful plan for moving everything over between lunch on Saturday and Monday morning, so as not to interfere with schoolwork. We’re going to split up into groups. The Committee is arranging it now.”
    “Very good,” the principal nodded, lost in his own thoughts. What worried him was that only a few trifling details remained to be done and that Khabalygin, who must have seen this two or three weeks ago, could easily have speeded things up and signed for the building. It almost looked as though Khabalygin was dragging his feet.
    “On a quite different matter, Fyodor Mikheyevich: We’ve discussed the case of Yengalychev in the Committee. He has given us his word and we’re prepared to answer for him. So please