The Early Ayn Rand

"Bring them out... Such is the end, citizens, of all who dare to raise a hand against the great will of the proletariat."

"What are your orders?" repeated Commandant Kareyev.

"The orders are to save your valuable chests for better bullets than ours. The convict, the woman's husband, is to be taken right back to Strastnoy Island, to be executed. The woman and the traitor Commandant are to be taken for trial to Nijni Kolimsk, to the GPU. Nice place, your ladyship, right across the street from a rich English merchant."

Joan's eyes met Kareyev's. In the house across the street from the rich English merchant, doors could be left unlocked, guards could be absent, prisoners could disappear without trace: for execution — or for freedom.

There were three of them. Two were saved — if they reached that house. One was doomed.

"And, by the way," asked the soldier, "which one is your husband?"

Joan stood by the table. She leaned far back against it, her tense arms propped against the edge, her head in her shoulders. Her hands grasping the table seemed to hold her body from falling backwards. But her eyes looked straight at the soldier; there was no fear in them, there was the last, desperate resolution of a cornered animal.

"This is my husband," she answered and pointed at Kareyev.

Commandant Kareyev looked at her. His eyes were calm and grew calmer as they studied hers. Hers were not pleading; they were proud with a defiant hopelessness.

He had asked for a proof of the truth; one beyond doubt. He had it.

Commandant Kareyev looked at the sky where dawn, like a child, smiled its first hope to the beginning of life. Then, he turned to the soldier.

"Yes," he said calmly, "I am her husband."

Joan's body slid from the edge of the table. Her arms pulled it up again. Her eyes widened looking at that for which she had not dared to hope.

"Let's go," said the soldier. "You must be crazy, Citizen Convict. I don't see anything to be smiling about."

The soldiers bent over Michael. He stirred faintly.

"The traitor's all right," said the leader. "He can make the journey to Nijni Kolimsk. Put him into our sleigh, and the woman, too, and take them to town. I'll take the convict back to the coast. Send an order to have a boat for Strastnoy waiting there."

Joan did not look at the men lifting Michael and carrying him out to the sleigh. She did not notice the figures passing before her. Her eyes were frozen, staring at Kareyev.

There was a great calm in Commandant Kareyev's face; a calm that seemed to erase softly the wrinkles of many years on the Beast's face. He was not looking at Joan. He was staring, wondering, at something he seemed to understand for the first time. He was not smiling; but his face looked as if it were.

"Well, come on," said the soldier. "What's the matter, citizen woman? Stop staring at him like that."

"May I," asked Kareyev, "say goodbye... to my wife?"

"Go ahead. But make it quick."

Commandant Kareyev turned and met her eyes. Then, he smiled softly and took her hands. "Goodbye, Joan."

She did not answer. She was staring at him.

"There is a love beyond all justice, Joan. I understand."

She did not seem to hear. He added:

"And also there is a love beyond all sorrow. So don't worry about me."

"I can't let you go," her lips said almost without sound.

"You have been mine. You gave me life. You have a right to take it."

"I'd rather..."

"You'd rather keep quiet... You have a duty to me, now. You must be happy — for my sake."

"I'll be... happy," she whispered.

"You're not crying, are you, Joan? It's not as bad as all that. I don't want to be a ghost who will ruin the life awaiting you. Are you strong enough to promise that you will always smile when you think of me?"

"I'm... smiling... dear..."

"Remember me only when — in the countries where you'll be sent by... the house across the street from the English merchant — you see the lights... dancing."

She raised her head. She stood straight as a soldier at attention. She said slowly, each word steady and solemn as a step to the scaffold:

"I can't thank you. I only want you to know that of all the things I've done, the one I'm doing now is the hardest."

He took her in his arms and kissed her. It was a long kiss. He wanted to sum up his life in it.

They walked out together, her hand in his. The sun greeted them, rising over the forest. It rose slowly, and its rays were like arms outstretched in a solemn blessing. Far away in the forest, snow glistened on the branches like tears that had dropped from the flaming sunrise and rolled, overfilling the forest, over the wide plain. But the tall, old trees raised their dark heads straight into the sky, above the snow, triumphant, greeting life that was starting again for the first time. And over the white plain little sparks burned in the snow, little twinkling, dancing lights of all colors, like a rainbow.

"To the glory of the world revolution!" said the soldier and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.