Red Stefan Read Free

with the smell of oil there were other smells. The reek of food, damp sheepskins, coarse unwashed human beings, and rank tobacco all helped to thicken the atmosphere. But it was warm. It was most blessedly warm. She pushed the straw up behind her back and leaned against it. What was to happen next seemed to concern her as little as if she had been in a theatre waiting for the curtain to rise upon the next act of some play the plot of which she did not know. She felt a faint curiosity, a faint thrill of anticipation, but no more. It was as if the events of that first act in which she had herself sustained so tragic a role, had brought her to an end of her capacity to feel. She leaned back against the wall, a mere spectator now.
    Then the sack was pushed aside and Stephen came ducking under the line. He had a bowl of steaming soup in his hand, and as the smell of it rose up into her nostrils, Elizabeth felt a frightful pang of hunger. She could have snatched the basin from him and gulped like an animal, but she steadied her hands, and had parted her lips to say thank you, when he again laid a finger on his own. As she took the first delicious mouthful, he was speaking close to her ear.
    â€œDon’t speak. Your Russian won’t pass muster. You’ll have to be dumb. If anyone speaks to you, look vacant and shake your head.”
    A faint stab of fear pierced her indifference. Was he going to leave her? She looked at him across the bowl of soup with the question in her eyes.
    He shook his head and put his lips to her ear again. His beard tickled her cheek.
    â€œI won’t be long. They won’t meddle with you. They think you’re my wife. Finish the soup, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
    He waited till she had drunk it, and then pushed under the sacking again. One of the men in the room beyond said something which she did not understand, and the others laughed. Stephen laughed too, and then she heard the door open and shut again, and knew that he had gone. She found his words ringing in her head: “I’ll be back soon”… “They won’t meddle with you”… “They think you’re my wife.”… She pressed the straw into a pillow and fell asleep with her cheek on her hand.
    She did not know how long she slept, but presently she was awake again. Looking down on her from over the top of the screen was a man with a wide pale face and ears that stuck out on either side of his head like bat’s wings. She could see the lamplight through them, and the effect was fantastic in the extreme—the blunt, almost featureless face, crowned with a shock of fair hair, and those jutting blood-red ears. He called over his shoulder in a voice thickened with drink.
    â€œCome and look at her for yourself then! I don’t think much of Red Stefan’s taste, I can tell you!”
    Someone guffawed.
    â€œYou’ll think something of Red Stefan’s fist if you take liberties with his property!”
    â€œWho’s taking liberties? Who wants to take liberties either? Why, she’s more like a bit of scraped bone than a girl!”
    â€œWell, I’ve seen Red Stefan knock a man into the middle of the year after next for less than you’re doing now.”
    Elizabeth heard the words and saw the face. She was still so dazed with sleep that she felt neither fear nor offence. She looked up with half opened eyes, and then she saw and heard something else. The door of the room was flung open. Someone came striding in, and over the head of the man who was staring down at her Stephen’s face appeared. She had not realized how tall he was till then. He looked over the other man’s head and, taking him by the bat-like ears, lifted him right off his feet. Elizabeth saw the white convulsed face jerk up, and down again. She heard his yell of anguish, the clatter of his feet upon the floor, and Stephen’s great schoolboy laugh.
    â€œDance, little man,