The Slynx by Tatyana Tolstaya Read Free Book Online Page B

corners, and Father has already gotten ready for bed and undressed.
    And suddenly Father screamed: A-a-a-a! And his eyes bugged out and he stared at his stomach, and kept on screaming
    and screaming. And there was a sort of rash on his stomach, like someone had patted him all over with dirty hands. And he screamed, "Illness! Illness!"
    Mother pulled on her felt boots, threw a scarf on her head, and ran out for Nikita Ivanich.
    Father: "He'll tell! He'll tell!" And he grabbed her skirts.
    He meant that Nikita Ivanich would tell the Saniturions. All in vain. She pulled away from him and ran out into the blizzard.
    She came running back with Nikita Ivanich. He said, "What is it now? Show me. What do we have here? Neurodermatitis. Don't eat so many mice. It'll go away on its own. Don't scratch it."
    And it really did go away. And Father did find the Olden-print book and burn it after all. He wasn't as afraid of the contagion as he was of the Saniturions, may they remain nameless at night.
    Because they take you away and treat you, and after treatment people don't come back. No one ever comes back.
    It's scary to think about. You walk down the street and suddenly there's a whistle and a whoaing. The Red Sleigh rushes by, with six Degenerators hitched to it. And whatever you're wearing, a caftan or a padded jacket, or a shirt in summer--you fling yourself to the side, into the snowdrifts or mud, cover your head with your hands, and shrink back: Lord, let them pass! Save me! You'd like to hide in the ground, disappear into the clay, become a blind worrum--just don't take me! Not me, not me, not me, not me!...
    And they come closer and the clatter grows louder--here they are! There's heat and whistles, and the six Degenerators wheeze, and clods of mud fly up from the runners ... and then they're gone. Silence. In the distance the dull thud of felt boots dies down.
    I'm not ill, I'm not ill, no, no, no. No, no, don't let the Saniturions come, no, no, no. God forbid, God forbid, no, no, no.
    YEST
    When kitty died, there was no one to catch mice. You won't catch too many with bare hands. Of course science doesn't stand still, it just keeps inventing things. Benedikt would sometimes make loops, noose traps. He'd twist threads into a stiff string, rub it good and well with mouse lard, wind a special loop on one end so that it would slide, try it out on his finger--and he was off to the hunt. Our floors are all cracked and gaping, not so much on account of being poor, but so it's easier for the mice to come out. Come on out now, little critters!
    I have seen you, little mouse, Running all about the house, Through the hole your little eye In the wainscot peeping sly, Hoping soon some crumbs to steal, To make quite a hearty meal.
    They say that the rich Golubchiks who have tall, painted terems two stories high--Murzas, for instance, or someone who has grown fat from a dishonest life--those ones have all the cracks stuffed up so there's no draft even in the deepest winter. And how do they get their food? They've got special serfs sitting in the cellars, and those serfs are trained to attack mice. That's all they know how to do. People say they sit there in the cellars day in and day out in the pitch dark, but they can see like it's high noon. They can't even come out into the light, they'd go blind right off, and their mice-catching days would be over. Who knows? Could be.
    But we're simple folk, we lie down on the floor on our bellies, stick the noose in a crack and give it a tug. Mice are stupid critters. They're curious: what is that noose doing over there? And they'll stick their heads right in the loop and then: whoop! You give it a jerk.
    Fyodor Kuzmich, Glorybe, made a scientific invention for us. The mouse trap. Well, people do have those too, but they just stand there idle. You have to put a piece of food in the mouse trap for it to work, otherwise the mice aren't interested and won't go near it. Thieves, on the other hand, are very