文档介绍：HOW THE STEEL WAS TEMPERED by NIKOLAI OSTROVSKY
Translated from the Russian by R. Prokofieva
INTRODUCTION
The balcony door stood open, and the curtain stirred in the wind, filling out, rising reluctantly, and
shrinking like a dipped sail. A crumpled towel left by someone on the radio made a white blur in
the dusk. It looked like a white rabbit who had laid down its long ears preparing to jump.
I remembered that bright September morning in Sochi two years ago, the small house in
Orekhovaya Street, the ripe, orange persimmons in the sunlit garden, the pleasant whitewashed
room, and the dear face on the piled-up pillows.
The white rabbit nestled happily in the folds of the blanket as Nikolai's nervous fingers caressed
its long, silky ears. Nikolai was laughing softly, and his gleaming teeth were as white as sugar. On
the bedside table lay several big red apples, and their lovely smell filled the whole house. The
white rabbit, comically twitching its soft ears, licked the gentle human hand with its small pink
tongue.
I wanted to shut my eyes tight and see that hot September morning again, and the house filled with
sunlight and apple fragrance. My thoughts refused to take a melancholy course, and my mind was
still unable to grasp what had happened and tell itself that this was the irrevocable. . . .
But reality asserted itself, and my eyes saw with ruthless clarity the face that had forever grown
still. The last struggle for survival had sapped all his life juices, and dried him as a leaf is dried in
a hot wind. It only spared his tall, handsome forehead, and his soft dark chestnut hair. This clear,
dome-like brow rose above a small, wizened face. And one fancied that his creative imagination,
infused with revolutionary ardour and an irrepressible interest in and love of life, was still working
busily. . . . I placed my hand on his forehead. It was still warm and even moist, as though Nikolai
was simply resting after his exciting ex