Free The Longest Pleasure by Christopher Nicole Page A

the lives of all those children, because they are nothing more. They are going to march behind you. What will happen then? Do you think the Russian soldiers are just going to stand there and look at you?'
    'Yes,' Kirsten said. 'If they are still here. We have demanded the withdrawal of all Russian troops from Hungary.' 'You have demanded?'
    'The students have demanded. You watch. They will be starting home very soon. Today is October 22nd? By November 1 st.'
    'They haven't gone home from Poland yet'
    'But they didn't do anything there, either. This is 1956, Irena, not 1940. Not 1848, either. Troops don't go around shooting at civilians in 1956. There is such a thing as world opinion nowadays.'
    'And what about the Avo? Do you think they care-about world opinion?'
    'Of course. So they beat people up in their cellars. We know they do that. But we cannot prove what they do down there. They shoot someone in the streets, with all the world looking on, and the newsreel cameras clicking away, and they cannot deny afterwards that it happened. Anyway, my dear little one, you are not bothered by what the Avo may or may not do. You know they are not going to trouble Irena Szen. Half the brass in the Russian army, not to mention the government, would be on their necks. Now tell m e what is really troubling you.’
    Irena Szen placed sausage and cucumber with the bread on a plate, left the plate on the table, returned to the bed, and lay down. 'Later,' she said, 'When you come back from your demonstration.'
    The sun dipped in a blaze of red and gold over Budapest. It was a memorable sunset, but because it was over a city, a place of dust and fumes and noise and human excitement, it was muted, lacking the streaks of yellow, the unearthly pinkish fade. But it was good to think of sunsets again, without the naked, bleeding belly. Without the thin brown hair, the scrawled name, either. With only the pleasure of a coming fulfilment.
    'I knew all the time that it would amount to nothing.' Colonel Evenssohn settled himself in the back seat of his car and lit a cigarette. 'But, still, orders are orders. And it is good for these people to be reminded that there is a power greater than their childish aspirations.'
    ‘I t seemed a little over-anxious,' Galitsin agreed, 'to put us on standby because a few schoolchildren proposed to hold a public meeting. In any event, Comrade Colonel, was this not entirely a matter for the Hungarians?'
    Evenssohn smiled. He was a little man, dapper, who spent much time, and more money, securing the best materials for his uniforms, and wished only to be left in peace to enjoy the wearing of them. 'One would have thought so, Alexander Petrovich. Although... this is in the strictest confidence, you understand, but I have heard a rumour that additional troops have been ordered across the border. So we are taking the business seriously. It would not do to let it get out of hand, as it has done in Poland. There is too much unrest in the air. It is all the Poles' fault Have you thought, Galitsin, how much trouble the Poles have brought into the world?'
    'No, Comrade Colonel.' Galitsin gazed out of his window at the streets of Pest, as they approached the Margaret Bridge. These streets always made him uneasy, and this evening they were deserted, as they had been nearly twelve years ago.
    'They have never been satisfied with their rulers, no matter who they have been. You wait. Gomulka will soon be in as much trouble as anyone. They are a nation of anarchists.'
    Galitsin said nothing. He was on his way to see Irena; he was happy that this was still possible, was in no mood to listen to a political diatribe from the colonel.
    'But these people, as you say, are schoolchildren. I had an observer there this afternoon. They sang patriotic songs, and waved flags, and made patriotic speeches, and presented lists of demands, to the air, of course. And do you know what headed their demands, Alexander Petrovich?'
    'No, Comrade