The cannibal woman: “I have heard that in the Soviet Union there is no discrimination against women. Can this be? Are there woman doctors? Do women steer ships and pilot planes? Perhaps there are women policemen, who stop streams of traffic with their hands.”

“There is so much we are eager to ask you, dear friend,” Einhorn said. “So much we want to know. What about the success of the second five-year plan? Were the quotas all filled? And the wonderful blast furnace at Magnitogorsk? Has it been completed on schedule? It is time to pour the molten iron! To hammer it into molds! A new society will be forged!”

“In the Soviet Union there are over seven hundred universities and colleges!” said Kipnis, whose voice rose several notes. “Here is another fact. Did you know the Soviet Union comprises one-sixth of the land area of the earth?”

“Perhaps one day we shall visit your cities,” Faulhaber said. “They say that the domes of churches are covered in gold, that in summer the sun shines on them through the night.”

The presser: “In the underground railway the stations are made out of marble. I saw a picture. Ha, ha! Marble!”

“And there are flowers and trees in the center of highways!”

“This is better than Palestine!”

“Better than Madagascar!”

It was Lipiczany who realized that throughout this conversation Taradash had not said a word. “Comrade!” shouted the boy. “Where are you?”

The voice of the airman came back—not from nearby, but from well up the hill leading to Tsarskoye Selo. “Farewell, brothers! I must return to our lines.”

“Not that way!”

“Watch out!”

“You’re going to the Elder’s palace!”

The commando had moved still farther off. “I know my way. The Elite Guard will take your place at the bridge.”

Not a single member of the Edmund Trilling Brigade heard those words correctly. They gasped, then, when the parachutist went on: “In case you were not willing, or not able, we have included the Elder in our contingency plan.”

Einhorn: “Trumpelman will never agree. The Elite Guard is for his own protection.”

The voice came out of the darkness: “But he has agreed. He was the one who first contacted us.”

Chaffer sat up, like a dead man reborn. “It’s a trick!”

“The Elite Guard are fifth columnists!”

Taradash, halfway to the mansion, paused. “Listen to me. The Blond Ones are determined to defend the city. It’s from here they want to mount their counteroffensive. Operation Ural Mountains isn’t just a matter of the liberation of the Ghetto, but of the whole course of the war. It must be carried out.”

Zam, the medical doctor, spoke next—slowly, calmly, not in the least excited. “You are making a big mistake. The Chairman of the Judenrat is a collaborator. He was the one who murdered our leader, Lipsky. He stood shoulder to shoulder with the Others when they shot Edmund Trilling, the Bundist, for whom our brigade is named. His wife took part in the execution of the painter, Klapholtz. From the beginning he urged the citizens of the Balut to join transports, and he went on doing this after he knew what happened in the forests and camps. His Judenrat makes the selections, conducts the roundups, and helps load the trains. He starved the Jews. He worked them like slaves until they dropped at their benches. He enforced the regulations that deny them the right even to be born. All this continues. It goes on. Do not say he has done this out of necessity, in sorrow, knowing that the Others would be worse. He sought his position. He smacked his lips.”