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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.08.01*END** +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +UNDER WESTERN EYES + +by JOSEPH CONRAD + + + + +"I would take liberty from any hand as a hungry man would snatch +a piece of bread." +Miss HALDIN + + + + +PART FIRST + + + +To begin with I wish to disclaim the possession of those high gifts +of imagination and expression which would have enabled my pen to +create for the reader the personality of the man who called himself, +after the Russian custom, Cyril son of Isidor--Kirylo Sidorovitch-- +Razumov. + +If I have ever had these gifts in any sort of +living form they have been smothered out of +existence a long time ago under a wilderness of +words. Words, as is well known, are the great +foes of reality. I have been for many years a +teacher of languages. It is an occupation which +at length becomes fatal to whatever share of +imagination, observation, and insight an +ordinary person may be heir to. To a teacher of +languages there comes a time when the world is +but a place of many words and man appears a mere +talking animal not much more wonderful than a +parrot. + +This being so, I could not have observed Mr. +Razumov or guessed at his reality by the force +of insight, much less have imagined him as he +was. Even to invent the mere bald facts of his +life would have been utterly beyond my powers. +But I think that without this declaration the +readers of these pages will be able to detect in +the story the marks of documentary evidence. +And that is perfectly correct. It is based on a +document; all I have brought to it is my +knowledge of the Russian language, which is +sufficient for what is attempted here. The +document, of course, is something in the nature +of a journal, a diary, yet not exactly that in +its actual form. For instance, most of it was +not written up from day to day, though all the +entries are dated. Some of these entries cover +months of time and extend over dozens of pages. +All the earlier part is a retrospect, in a +narrative form, relating to an event which took +place about a year before. + +I must mention that I have lived for a long time +in Geneva. A whole quarter of that town, on +account of many Russians residing there, is +called La Petite Russie--Little Russia. I had a +rather extensive connexion in Little Russia at +that time. Yet I confess that I have no +comprehension of the Russian character. The +illogicality of their attitude, the +arbitrariness of their conclusions, the +frequency of the exceptional, should present no +difficulty to a student of many grammars; but +there must be something else in the way, some +special human trait--one of those subtle +differences that are beyond the ken of mere +professors. What must remain striking to a +teacher of languages is the Russians' +extraordinary love of words. They gather them +up; they cherish them, but they don't hoard them +in their breasts; on the contrary, they are +always ready to pour them out by the hour or by +the night with an enthusiasm, a sweeping +abundance, with such an aptness of application +sometimes that, as in the case of very +accomplished parrots, one can't defend oneself +from the suspicion that they really understand +what they say. There is a generosity in their +ardour of speech which removes it as far as +possible from common loquacity; and it is ever +too disconnected to be classed as eloquence. . . +. But I must apologize for this digression. + +It would be idle to inquire why Mr. Razumov has +left this record behind him. It is +inconceivable that he should have wished any +human eye to see it. A mysterious impulse of +human nature comes into play here. Putting +aside Samuel Pepys, who has forced in this way +the door of immortality, innumerable people, +criminals, saints, philosophers, young girls, +statesmen, and simple imbeciles, have kept self- +revealing records from vanity no doubt, but also +from other more inscrutable motives. There must +be a wonderful soothing power in mere words +since so many men have used them for self- +communion. Being myself a quiet individual I +take it that what all men are really after is +some form or perhaps only some formula of peace. + Certainly they are crying loud enough for it at +the present day. What sort of peace Kirylo +Sidorovitch Razumov expected to find in the +writing up of his record it passeth my +understanding to guess. + +The fact remains that he has written it. + +Mr. Razumov was a tall, well-proportioned young +man, quite unusually dark for a Russian from the +Central Provinces. His good looks would have +been unquestionable if it had not been for a +peculiar lack of fineness in the features. It +was as if a face modelled vigorously in wax +(with some approach even to a classical +correctness of type) had been held close to a +fire till all sharpness of line had been lost in +the softening of the material. But even thus he +was sufficiently good-looking. His manner, too, +was good. In discussion he was easily swayed by +argument and authority. With his younger +compatriots he took the attitude of an +inscrutable listener, a listener of the kind +that hears you out intelligently and then--just +changes the subject. + +This sort of trick, which may arise either from +intellectual insufficiency or from an imperfect +trust in one's own convictions, procured for Mr. +Razumov a reputation of profundity. Amongst a +lot of exuberant talkers, in the habit of +exhausting themselves daily by ardent +discussion, a comparatively taciturn personality +is naturally credited with reserve power. By +his comrades at the St. Petersburg University, +Kirylo Sidorovitch Razumov, third year's student +in philosophy, was looked upon as a strong +nature--an altogether trustworthy man. This, in +a country where an opinion may be a legal crime +visited by death or sometimes by a fate worse +than mere death, meant that he was worthy of +being trusted with forbidden opinions. He was +liked also for his amiability and for his quiet +readiness to oblige his comrades even at the +cost of personal inconvenience. + +Mr. Razumov was supposed to be the son of an +Archpriest and to be protected by a +distinguished nobleman--perhaps of his own +distant province. But his outward appearance +accorded badly with such humble origin. Such a +descent was not credible. It was, indeed, +suggested that Mr. Razumov was the son of an +Archpriest's pretty daughter--which, of course, +would put a different complexion on the matter. +This theory also rendered intelligible the +protection of the distinguished nobleman. All +this, however, had never been investigated +maliciously or otherwise. No one knew or cared +who the nobleman in question was. Razumov +received a modest but very sufficient allowance +from the hands of an obscure attorney, who +seemed to act as his guardian in some measure. +Now and then he appeared at some professor's +informal reception. Apart from that Razumov was +not known to have any social relations in the +town. He attended the obligatory lectures +regularly and was considered by the authorities +as a very promising student. He worked at home +in the manner of a man who means to get on, but +did not shut himself up severely for that +purpose. He was always accessible, and there +was nothing secret or reserved in his life. + +I + +The origin of Mr. Razumov's record is connected +with an event characteristic of modern Russia in +the actual fact: the assassination of a +prominent statesman--and still more +characteristic of the moral corruption of an +oppressed society where the noblest aspirations +of humanity, the desire of freedom, an ardent +patriotism, the love of justice, the sense of +pity, and even the fidelity of simple minds are +prostituted to the lusts of hate and fear, the +inseparable companions of an uneasy despotism. + +The fact alluded to above is the successful +attempt on the life of Mr. de P---, the +President of the notorious Repressive Commission +of some years ago, the Minister of State +invested with extraordinary powers. The +newspapers made noise enough about that +fanatical, narrow-chested figure in gold-laced +uniform, with a face of crumpled parchment, +insipid, bespectacled eyes, and the cross of the +Order of St. Procopius hung under the skinny +throat. For a time, it may be remembered, not a +month passed without his portrait appearing in +some one of the illustrated papers of Europe. +He served the monarchy by imprisoning, exiling, +or sending to the gallows men and women, young +and old, with an equable, unwearied industry. +In his mystic acceptance of the principle of +autocracy he was bent on extirpating from the +land every vestige of anything that resembled +freedom in public institutions; and in his +ruthless persecution of the rising generation he +seemed to aim at the destruction of the very +hope of liberty itself. + +It is said that this execrated personality had +not enough imagination to be aware of the hate +he inspired. It is hardly credible; but it is a +fact that he took very few precautions for his +safety. In the preamble of a certain famous +State paper he had declared once that "the +thought of liberty has never existed in the Act +of the Creator. From the multitude of men's +counsel nothing could come but revolt and +disorder; and revolt and disorder in a world +created for obedience and stability is sin. It +was not Reason but Authority which expressed the +Divine Intention. God was the Autocrat of the +Universe. . . ." It may be that the man who +made this declaration believed that heaven +itself was bound to protect him in his +remorseless defence of Autocracy on this earth. + +No doubt the vigilance of the police saved him +many times; but, as a matter of fact, when his +appointed fate overtook him, the competent +authorities could not have given him any +warning. They had no knowledge of any +conspiracy against the Minister's life, had no +hint of any plot through their usual channels of +information, had seen no signs, were aware of no +suspicious movements or dangerous persons. + +Mr. de P--- was being driven towards the railway +station in a two-horse uncovered sleigh with +footman and coachman on the box. Snow had been +falling all night, making the roadway, uncleared +as yet at this early hour, very heavy for the +horses. It was still falling thickly. But the +sleigh must have been observed and marked down. +As it drew over to the left before taking a +turn, the footman noticed a peasant walking +slowly on the edge of the pavement with his +hands in the pockets of his sheepskin coat and +his shoulders hunched up to his ears under the +falling snow. On being overtaken this peasant +suddenly faced about and swung his arm. In an +instant there was a terrible shock, a detonation +muffled in the multitude of snowflakes; both +horses lay dead and mangled on the ground and +the coachman, with a shrill cry, had fallen off +the box mortally wounded. The footman (who +survived) had no time to see the face of the man +in the sheepskin coat. After throwing the bomb +this last got away, but it is supposed that, +seeing a lot of people surging up on all sides +of him in the falling snow, and all running +towards the scene of the explosion, he thought +it safer to turn back with them. + +In an incredibly short time an excited crowd +assembled round the sledge. The Minister- +President, getting out unhurt into the deep +snow, stood near the groaning coachman and +addressed the people repeatedly in his weak, +colourless voice: "I beg of you to keep off: +For the love of God, I beg of you good people to +keep off." + +It was then that a tall young man who had +remained standing perfectly still within a +carriage gateway, two houses lower down, stepped +out into the street and walking up rapidly flung +another bomb over the heads of the crowd. It +actually struck the Minister-President on the +shoulder as he stooped over his dying servant, +then falling between his feet exploded with a +terrific concentrated violence, striking him +dead to the ground, finishing the wounded man +and practically annihilating the empty sledge in +the twinkling of an eye. With a yell of horror +the crowd broke up and fled in all directions, +except for those who fell dead or dying where +they stood nearest to the Minister-President, +and one or two others who did not fall till they +had run a little way. + +The first explosion had brought together a crowd +as if by enchantment, the second made as swiftly +a solitude in the street for hundreds of yards +in each direction. Through the falling snow +people looked from afar at the small heap of +dead bodies lying upon each other near the +carcases of the two horses. Nobody dared to +approach till some Cossacks of a street-patrol +galloped up and, dismounting, began to turn over +the dead. Amongst the innocent victims of the +second explosion laid out on the pavement there +was a body dressed in a peasant's sheepskin +coat; but the face was unrecognisable, there was +absolutely nothing found in the pockets of its +poor clothing, and it was the only one whose +identity was never established. + +That day Mr. Razumov got up at his usual hour +and spent the morning within the University +buildings listening to the lectures and working +for some time in the library. He heard the +first vague rumour of something in the way of +bomb-throwing at the table of the students' +ordinary, where he was accustomed to eat his two +o'clock dinner. But this rumour was made up of +mere whispers, and this was Russia, where it was +not always safe, for a student especially, to +appear too much interested in certain kinds of +whispers. Razumov was one of those men who, +living in a period of mental and political +unrest, keep an instinctive hold on normal, +practical, everyday life. He was aware of the +emotional tension of his time; he even responded +to it in an indefinite way. But his main +concern was with his work, his studies, and with +his own future. + +Officially and in fact without a family (for the +daughter of the Archpriest had long been dead), +no home influences had shaped his opinions or +his feelings. He was as lonely in the world as +a man swimming in the deep sea. The word +Razumov was the mere label of a solitary +individuality. There were no Razumovs belonging +to him anywhere. His closest parentage was +defined in the statement that he was a Russian. +Whatever good he expected from life would be +given to or withheld from his hopes by that +connexion alone. This immense parentage +suffered from the throes of internal +dissensions, and he shrank mentally from the +fray as a good-natured man may shrink from +taking definite sides in a violent family +quarrel. + +Razumov, going home, reflected that having +prepared all the matters of the forthcoming +examination, he could now devote his time to the +subject of the prize essay. He hankered after +the silver medal. The prize was offered by the +Ministry of Education; the names of the +competitors would be submitted to the Minister +himself. The mere fact of trying would be +considered meritorious in the higher quarters; +and the possessor of the prize would have a +claim to an administrative appointment of the +better sort after he had taken his degree. The +student Razumov in an access of elation forgot +the dangers menacing the stability of the +institutions which give rewards and +appointments. But remembering the medallist of +the year before, Razumov, the young man of no +parentage, was sobered. He and some others +happened to be assembled in their comrade's +rooms at the very time when that last received +the official advice of his success. He was a +quiet, unassuming young man: " Forgive me," he +had said with a faint apologetic smile and +taking up his cap, " I am going out to order up +some wine. But I must first send a telegram to +my folk at home. I say! Won't the old people +make it a festive time for the neighbours for +twenty miles around our place." + +Razumov thought there was nothing of that sort +for him in the world. His success would matter +to no one. But he felt no bitterness against +the nobleman his protector, who was not a +provincial magnate as was generally supposed. +He was in fact nobody less than Prince K---, +once a great and splendid figure in the world +and now, his day being over, a Senator and a +gouty invalid, living in a still splendid but +more domestic manner. He had some young +children and a wife as aristocratic and proud as +himself. + +In all his life Razumov was allowed only once to +come into personal contact with the Prince. + +It had the air of a chance meeting in the little +attorney's office. One day Razumov, coming in +by appointment, found a stranger standing there-- +a tall, aristocratic-looking Personage with +silky, grey sidewhiskers. The bald-headed, sly +little lawyer-fellow called out, "Come in--come +in, Mr. Razumov," with a sort of ironic +heartiness. Then turning deferentially to the +stranger with the grand air, "A ward of mine, +your, Excellency. One of the most promising +students of his faculty in the St. Petersburg +University." + +To his intense surprise Razumov saw a white +shapely hand extended to him. He took it in +great confusion (it was soft and passive) and +heard at the same time a condescending murmur in +which he caught only the words "Satisfactory" +and "Persevere." But the most amazing thing of +all was to feel suddenly a distinct pressure of +the white shapely hand just before it was +withdrawn: a light pressure like a secret sign. +The emotion of it was terrible. Razumov's heart +seemed to leap into his throat. When he raised +his eyes the aristocratic personage, motioning +the little lawyer aside, had opened the door and +was going out. + +The attorney rummaged amongst the papers on his +desk for a time. "Do you know who that was?" he +asked suddenly. + +Razumov, whose heart was thumping hard yet, +shook his head in silence. + +"That was Prince K---. You wonder what he could +be doing in the hole of a poor legal rat like +myself--eh? These awfully great people have +their sentimental curiosities like common +sinners. But if I were you, Kirylo +Sidorovitch," he continued, leering and laying a +peculiar emphasis on the patronymic," I wouldn't +boast at large of the introduction. It would +not be prudent, Kirylo Sidorovitch. Oh dear no! +It would be in fact dangerous for your future." + +The young man's ears burned like fire; his sight +was dim. "That man!" Razumov was saying to +himself. "He!" + +Henceforth it was by this monosyllable that Mr. +Razumov got into the habit of referring mentally +to the stranger with grey silky side-whiskers. +>From that time too, when walking in the more +fashionable quarters, he noted with interest the +magnificent horses and carriages with Prince K--- + 's liveries on the box. Once he saw the +Princess get out--she was shopping--followed by +two girls, of which one was nearly a head taller +than the other. Their fair hair hung loose down +their backs in the English style; they had merry +eyes, their coats, muffs, and little fur caps +were exactly alike, and their cheeks and noses +were tinged a cheerful pink by the frost. They +crossed the pavement in front of him, and +Razumov went on his way smiling shyly to +himself. "His" daughters. They resembled +"Him." The young man felt a glow of warm +friendliness towards these girls who would never +know of his existence. Presently they would +marry Generals or Kammerherrs and have girls and +boys of their own, who perhaps would be aware of +him as a celebrated old professor, decorated, +possibly a Privy Councillor, one of the glories +of Russia--nothing more! + +But a celebrated professor was a somebody. +Distinction would convert the label Razumov into +an honoured name. There was nothing strange in +the student Razumov's wish for distinction. A +man's real life is that accorded to him in the +thoughts of other men by reason of respect or +natural love. Returning home on the day of the +attempt on Mr. de P---'s life Razumov resolved +to have a good try for the silver medal. + +Climbing slowly the four flights of the dark, +dirty staircase in the house where he had his +lodgings, he felt confident of success. The +winner's name would be published in the papers +on New Year's Day. And at the thought that "He" +would most probably read it there, Razumov +stopped short on the stairs for an instant, then +went on smiling faintly at his own emotion. +"This is but a shadow," he said to himself," but +the medal is a solid beginning." + +With those ideas of industry in his head the +warmth of his room was agreeable and +encouraging. "I shall put in four hours of good +work," he thought. But no sooner had he closed +the door than he was horribly startled. All +black against the usual tall stove of white +tiles gleaming in the dusk, stood a strange +figure, wearing a skirted, close-fitting, brown +cloth coat strapped round the waist, in long +boots, and with a little Astrakhan cap on its +head. It loomed lithe and martial. Razumov was +utterly confounded. It was only when the figure +advancing two paces asked in an untroubled, +grave voice if the outer door was closed that he +regained his power of speech. + +"Haldin!. . . Victor Victorovitch!. . . Is +that you? . . . Yes. The outer door is shut +all right. But this is indeed unexpected." + +Victor Haldin, a student older than most of his +contemporaries at the University, was not one of +the industrious set. He was hardly ever seen at +lectures; the authorities had marked him as +"restless" and "unsound "--very bad notes. But +he had a great personal prestige with his +comrades and influenced their thoughts. Razumov +had never been intimate with him. They had met +from time to time at gatherings in other +students' houses. They had even had a +discussion together--one of those discussions on +first principles dear to the sanguine minds of +youth. + +Razumov wished the man had chosen some other +time to come for a chat. He felt in good trim +to tackle the prize essay. But as Haldin could +not be slightingly dismissed Razumov adopted the +tone of hospitality, asking him to sit down and +smoke. + +"Kirylo Sidorovitch," said the other, flinging +off his cap, "we are not perhaps in exactly the +same camp. Your judgment is more philosophical. + You are a man of few words, but I haven't met +anybody who dared to doubt the generosity of +your sentiments. There is a solidity about your +character which cannot exist without courage." + +Razumov felt flattered and began to murmur shyly +something about being very glad of his good +opinion, when Haldin raised his hand. + +"That is what I was saying to myself," he +continued, "as I dodged in the woodyard down by +the river-side. 'He has a strong character this +young man,' I said to myself. 'He does not +throw his soul to the winds.' Your reserve has +always fascinated me, Kirylo Sidorovitch. So I +tried to remember your address. But look here-- +it was a piece of luck. Your dvornik was away +from the gate talking to a sleigh-driver on the +other side of the street. I met no one on the +stairs, not a soul. As I came up to your floor +I caught sight of your landlady coming out of +your rooms. But she did not see me. She +crossed the landing to her own side, and then I +slipped in. I have been here two hours +expecting you to come in every moment." + +Razumov had listened in astonishment; but before +he could open his mouth Haldin added, speaking +deliberately," It was I who removed de P--- +this morning." Razumov kept down a cry of +dismay. The sentiment of his life being utterly +ruined by this contact with such a crime +expressed itself quaintly by a sort of half- +derisive mental exclamation, "There goes my +silver medal!" + +Haldin continued after waiting a while-- + +"You say nothing, Kirylo Sidorovitch! I +understand your silence. To be sure, I cannot +expect you with your frigid English manner to +embrace me. But never mind your manners. You +have enough heart to have heard the sound of +weeping and gnashing of teeth this man raised in +the land. That would be enough to get over any +philosophical hopes. He was uprooting the +tender plant. He had to be stopped. He was a +dangerous man--a convinced man. Three more +years of his work would have put us back fifty +years into bondage--and look at all the lives +wasted, at all the souls lost in that time." + +His curt, self-confident voice suddenly lost its +ring and it was in a dull tone that he added, +"Yes, brother, I have killed him. It's weary +work." + +Razumov had sunk into a chair. Every moment he +expected a crowd of policemen to rush in. There +must have been thousands of them out looking for +that man walking up and down in his room. +Haldin was talking again in a restrained, steady +voice. Now and then he flourished an arm, +slowly, without excitement. + +He told Razumov how he had brooded for a year; +how he had not slept properly for weeks. He and +"Another " had a warning of the Minister's +movements from "a certain person" late the +evening before. He and that "Another" prepared +their "engines" and resolved to have no sleep +till "the deed" was done. They walked the +streets under the falling snow with the +"engines" on them, exchanging not a word the +livelong night. When they happened to meet a +police patrol they took each other by the arm +and pretended to be a couple of peasants on the +spree. They reeled and talked in drunken hoarse +voices. Except for these strange outbreaks they +kept silence, moving on ceaselessly. Their +plans had been previously arranged. At daybreak +they made their way to the spot which they knew +the sledge must pass. When it appeared in sight +they exchanged a muttered good-bye and +separated. The "other" remained at the corner, +Haldin took up a position a little farther up +the street. . . . + +After throwing his "engine" he ran off and in a +moment was overtaken by the panic-struck people +flying away from the spot after the second +explosion. They were wild with terror. He was +jostled once or twice. He slowed down for the +rush to pass him and then turned to the left +into a narrow street. There he was alone. + +He marvelled at this immediate escape. The work +was done. He could hardly believe it. He +fought with an almost irresistible longing to +lie down on the pavement and sleep. But this +sort of faintness--a drowsy faintness--passed +off quickly. He walked faster, making his way +to one of the poorer parts of the town in order +to look up Ziemianitch. + +This Ziemianitch, Razumov understood, was a sort +of town-peasant who had got on; owner of a small +number of sledges and horses for hire. Haldin +paused in his narrative to exclaim-- + +"A bright spirit ! A hardy soul! The best driver +in St. Petersburg. He has a team of three +horses there. . . . Ah! He's a fellow!" + +This man had declared himself willing to take +out safely, at any time, one or two persons to +the second or third railway station on one of +the southern lines. But there had been no time +to warn him the night before. His usual haunt +seemed to be a low-class eating-house on the +outskirts of the town. When Haldin got there +the man was not to be found. He was not +expected to turn up again till the evening. +Haldin wandered away restlessly. + +He saw the gate of a woodyard open and went in +to get out of the wind which swept the bleak +broad thoroughfare. The great rectangular piles +of cut wood loaded with snow resembled the huts +of a village. At first the watchman who +discovered him crouching amongst them talked in +a friendly manner. He was a dried-up old man +wearing two ragged army coats one over the +other; his wizened little face, tied up under +the jaw and over the ears in a dirty red +handkerchief, looked comical. Presently he grew +sulky, and then all at once without rhyme or +reason began to shout furiously. + +"Aren't you ever going to clear out of this, you +loafer ? We know all about factory hands of +your sort. A big, strong, young chap! You +aren't even drunk. What do you want here? You +don't frighten us. Take yourself and your ugly +eyes away." + +Haldin stopped before the sitting Razumov. His +supple figure, with the white forehead above +which the fair hair stood straight up, had an +aspect of lofty daring. + +" He did not like my eyes," he said. "And so. . +.here I am." + +Razumov made an effort to speak calmly. + +"But pardon me, Victor Victorovitch. We know +each other so little. . . . I don't see why you +. . . ." + +" Confidence," said Haldin. + +This word sealed Razumov's lips as if a hand had +been clapped on his mouth. His brain seethed +with arguments + +"And so--here you are," he muttered through his +teeth. + +The other did not detect the tone of anger. +Never suspected it. + +"Yes. And nobody knows I am here. You are the +last person that could be suspected--should I +get caught. That's an advantage, you see. And +then--speaking to a superior mind like yours I +can well say all the truth. It occurred to me +that you--you have no one belonging to you--no +ties, no one to suffer for it if this came out +by some means. There have been enough ruined +Russian homes as it is. But I don't see how my +passage through your rooms can be ever known. +If I should be got hold of, I'll know how to +keep silent--no matter what they may be pleased +to do to me," he added grimly. + +He began to walk again while Razumov sat still +appalled. + +"You thought that--" he faltered out almost sick +with indignation. + +"Yes, Razumov. Yes, brother. Some day you +shall help to build. You suppose that I am a +terrorist, now--a destructor of what is, But +consider that the true destroyers are they who +destroy the spirit of progress and truth, not +the avengers who merely kill the bodies of the +persecutors of human dignity. Men like me are +necessary to make room for self-contained, +thinking men like you. Well, we have made the +sacrifice of our lives, but all the same I want +to escape if it can be done. It is not my life +I want to save, but my power to do. I won't +live idle. Oh no! Don't make any mistake, +Razumov. Men like me are rare. And, besides, +an example like this is more awful to oppressors +when the perpetrator vanishes without a trace. +They sit in their offices and palaces and quake. + All I want you to do is to help me to vanish. +No great matter that. Only to go by and by and +see Ziemianitch for me at that place where I +went this morning. Just tell him, 'He whom you +know wants a well-horsed sledge to pull up half +an hour after midnight at the seventh lamp-post +on the left counting from the upper end of +Karabelnaya. If nobody gets in, the sledge is +to run round a block or two, so as to come back +past the same spot in ten minutes' time.' " + +Razumov wondered why he had not cut short that +talk and told this man to go away long before. +Was it weakness or what? + +He concluded that it was a sound instinct. +Haldin must have been seen. It was impossible +that some people should not have noticed the +face and appearance of the man who threw the +second bomb. Haldin was a noticeable person. +The police in their thousands must have had his +description within the hour. With every moment +the danger grew. Sent out to wander in the +streets he could not escape being caught in the +end. + +The police would very soon find out all about +him. They would set about discovering a +conspiracy. Everybody Haldin had ever known +would be in the greatest danger. Unguarded +expressions, little facts in themselves innocent +would be counted for crimes. Razumov remembered +certain words he said, the speeches he had +listened to, the harmless gatherings he had +attended--it was almost impossible for a student +to keep out of that sort of thing, without +becoming suspect to his comrades. + +Razumov saw himself shut up in a fortress, +worried, badgered, perhaps ill-used. He saw +himself deported by an administrative order, his +life broken, ruined, and robbed of all hope. He +saw himself--at best--leading a miserable +existence under police supervision, in some +small, faraway provincial town, without friends +to assist his necessities or even take any steps +to alleviate his lot--as others had. Others had +fathers, mothers, brothers, relations, +connexions, to move heaven and earth on their +behalf--he had no one. The very officials that +sentenced him some morning would forget his +existence before sunset. + +He saw his youth pass away from him in misery +and half starvation--his strength give way, his +mind become an abject thing. He saw himself +creeping, broken down and shabby, about the +streets--dying unattended in some filthy hole of +a room, or on the sordid bed of a Government +hospital. + +He shuddered. Then the peace of bitter calmness +came over him. It was best to keep this man out +of the streets till he could be got rid of with +some chance of escaping. That was the best that +could be done. Razumov, of course, felt the +safety of his lonely existence to be permanently +endangered. This evening's doings could turn up +against him at any time as long as this man +lived and the present institutions endured. +They appeared to him rational and indestructible +at that moment. They had a force of harmony--in +contrast with the horrible discord of this man's +presence. He hated the man. He said quietly-- + +"Yes, of course, I will go. 'You must give me +precise directions, and for the rest--depend on +me." + +"Ah! You are a fellow! Collected--cool as a +cucumber. A regular Englishman. Where did you +get your soul from? There aren't many like you. + Look here, brother! Men like me leave no +posterity, but their souls are not lost. No +man's soul is ever lost. It works for itself-- +or else where would be the sense of self- +sacrifice, of martyrdom, of conviction, of faith- +-the labours of the soul? What will become of +my soul when I die in the way I must die--soon-- +very soon perhaps? It shall not perish. Don't +make a mistake, Razumov. This is not murder--it +is war, war. My spirit shall go on warring in +some Russian body till all falsehood is swept +out of the world. The modern civilization is +false, but a new revelation shall come out of +Russia. Ha! you say nothing. You are a +sceptic. I respect your philosophical +scepticism, Razumov, but don't touch the soul. +The Russian soul that lives in all of us. It +has a future. It has a mission, I tell you, or +else why should I have been moved to do this-- +reckless--like a butcher--in the middle of all +these innocent people--scattering death--I! I! +. . . I wouldn't hurt a fly!" + +"Not so loud," warned Razumov harshly. + +Haldin sat down abruptly, and leaning his head +on his folded arms burst into tears. He wept +for a long time. The dusk had deepened in the +room. Razumov, motionless in sombre wonder, +listened to the sobs. + +The other raised his head, got up and with an +effort mastered his voice. + +"Yes. Men like me leave no posterity," he +repeated in a subdued tone." I have a sister +though. She's with my old mother--I persuaded +them to go abroad this year--thank God. Not a +bad little girl my sister. She has the most +trustful eyes of any human being that ever +walked this earth. She will marry well, I hope. + She may have children--sons perhaps. Look at +me. My father was a Government official in the +provinces, He had a little land too. A simple +servant of God--a true Russian in his way. His +was the soul of obedience. But I am not like +him. They say I resemble my mother's eldest +brother, an officer. They shot him in '28. +Under Nicholas, you know. Haven't I told you +that this is war, war. . . . But God of +Justice! This is weary work." + +Razumov, in his chair, leaning his head on his +hand, spoke as if from the bottom of an abyss. + +"You believe in God, Haldin? " + +"There you go catching at words that are wrung +from one. What does it matter? What was it the +Englishman said: 'There is a divine soul in +things . . . ' Devil take him--I don't remember +now. But he spoke the truth. When the day of +you thinkers comes don't you forget what's +divine in the Russian soul--and that's +resignation. Respect that in your intellectual +restlessness and don't let your arrogant wisdom +spoil its message to the world. I am speaking +to you now like a man with a rope round his +neck. What do you imagine I am? A being in +revolt? No. It's you thinkers who are in +everlasting revolt. I am one of the resigned. +When the necessity of this heavy work came to me +and I understood that it had to be done--what +did I do? Did I exult? Did I take pride in my +purpose? Did I try to weigh its worth and +consequences? No! I was resigned. I thought +'God's will be done.'" + +He threw himself full length on Razumov's bed +and putting the backs of his hands over his eyes +remained perfectly motionless and silent. Not +even the sound of his breathing could be heard. +The dead stillness or the room remained +undisturbed till in the darkness Razumov said +gloomily-- + +"Haldin." + +"Yes," answered the other readily, quite +invisible now on the bed and without the +slightest stir. + +"Isn't it time for me to start?" + +"Yes, brother." The other was heard, lying +still in the darkness as though he were talking +in his sleep. "The time has come to put fate to +the test." + +He paused, then gave a few lucid directions in +the quiet impersonal voice of a man in a trance. + Razumov made ready without a word of answer. +As he was leaving the room the voice on the bed +said after him-- + +"Go with God, thou silent soul." + +On the landing, moving softly, Razumov locked +the door and put the key in his pocket. + +II + +The words and events of that evening must have +been graven as if with a steel tool on Mr. +Razumov's brain since he was able to write his +relation with such fullness and precision a good +many months afterwards. + +The record of the thoughts which assailed him in +the street is even more minute and abundant. +They seem to have rushed upon him with the +greater freedom because his thinking powers were +no longer crushed by Haldin's presence--the +appalling presence of a great crime and the +stunning force of a great fanaticism. On +looking through the pages of Mr. Razumov's diary +I own that a "rush of thoughts" is not an +adequate image. + +The more adequate description would be a tumult +of thoughts--the faithful reflection of the +state of his feelings. The thoughts in +themselves were not numerous--they were like the +thoughts of most human beings, few and simple-- +but they cannot be reproduced here in all their +exclamatory repetitions which went on in an +endless and weary turmoil--for the walk was long. + +If to the Western reader they appear shocking, +inappropriate, or even improper, it must be +remembered that as to the first this may be the +effect of my crude statement. For the rest I +will only remark here that this is not a story +of the West of Europe. + +Nations it may be have fashioned their +Governments, but the Governments have paid them +back in the same coin. It is unthinkable that +any young Englishman should find himself in +Razumov's situation. This being so it would be +a vain enterprise to imagine what he would +think. The only safe surmise to make is that he +would not think as Mr. Razumov thought at this +crisis of his fate. He would not have an +hereditary and personal knowledge or the means +by which historical autocracy represses ideas, +guards its power, and defends its existence. By +an act of mental extravagance he might imagine +himself arbitrarily thrown into prison, but it +would never occur to him unless he were +delirious (and perhaps not even then) that he +could be beaten with whips as a practical +measure either of investigation or of punishment. + +This is but a crude and obvious example of the +different conditions of Western thought. I +don't know that this danger occurred, specially, +to Mr. Razumov. No doubt it entered +unconsciously into the general dread and the +general appallingness of this crisis. Razumov, +as has been seen, was aware of more subtle ways +in which an individual may be undone by the +proceedings of a despotic Government. A simple +expulsion from the University (the very least +that could happen to him), with an impossibility +to continue his studies anywhere, was enough to +ruin utterly a young man depending entirely upon +the development of his natural abilities for his +place in the world. He was a Russian: and for +him to be implicated meant simply sinking into +the lowest social depths amongst the hopeless +and the destitute--the night birds of the city. + +The peculiar circumstances of Razumov's +parentage, or rather of his lack of parentage, +should be taken into the account of his +thoughts. And he remembered them too. He had +been lately reminded of them in a peculiarly +atrocious way by this fatal Haldin. "Because I +haven't that, must everything else be taken away +from me?" he thought. + +He nerved himself for another effort to go on. +Along the roadway sledges glided phantom-like +and jingling through a fluttering whiteness on +the black face of the night. "For it is a +crime," he was saying to himself. "A murder is +a murder. Though, of course, some sort of +liberal institutions. . . ." + +A feeling of horrible sickness came over him. +"I must be courageous," he exhorted himself +mentally. All his strength was suddenly gone as +if taken out by a hand. Then by a mighty effort +of will it came back because he was afraid of +fainting in the street and being picked up by +the police with the key of his lodgings in his +pocket. They would find Haldin there, and then, +indeed, he would be undone. + +Strangely enough it was this fear which seems to +have kept him up to the end. The passers-by +were rare. They came upon him suddenly, looming +up black in the snowflakes close by, then +vanishing all at once-without footfalls. + +It was the quarter of the very poor. Razumov +noticed an elderly woman tied up in ragged +shawls. Under the street lamp she seemed a +beggar off duty. She walked leisurely in the +blizzard as though she had no home to hurry to, +she hugged under one arm a round loaf of black +bread with an air of guarding a priceless booty: +and Razumov averting his glance envied her the +peace of her mind and the serenity of her fate. + +To one reading Mr. Razumov's narrative it is +really a wonder how he managed to keep going as +he did along one interminable street after +another on pavements that were gradually +becoming blocked with snow. It was the thought +of Haldin locked up in his rooms and the +desperate desire to get rid of his presence +which drove him forward. No rational +determination had any part in his exertions. +Thus, when on arriving at the low eating-house +he heard that the man of horses, Ziemianitch, +was not there, he could only stare stupidly. + +The waiter, a wild-haired youth in tarred boots +and a pink shirt, exclaimed, uncovering his pale +gums in a silly grin, that Ziemianitch had got +his skinful early in the afternoon and had gone +away with a bottle under each arm to keep it up +amongst the horses--he supposed. + +The owner of the vile den, a bony short man in a +dirty cloth caftan coming down to his heels, +stood by, his hands tucked into his belt, and +nodded confirmation. + +The reek of spirits, the greasy rancid steam of +food got Razumov by the throat. He struck a +table with his clenched hand and shouted +violently-- + +"You lie." + +Bleary unwashed faces were turned to his +direction. A mild-eyed ragged tramp drinking +tea at the next table moved farther away. A +murmur of wonder arose with an undertone of +uneasiness. A laugh was heard too, and an +exclamation, "There! there!" jeeringly soothing. + The waiter looked all round and announced to +the room-- + +"The gentleman won't believe that Ziemianitch is +drunk." + + +>From a distant corner a hoarse voice belonging +to a horrible, nondescript, shaggy being with a +black face like the muzzle of a bear grunted +angrily-- + +"The cursed driver of thieves. What do we want +with his gentlemen here? We are all honest folk +in this place." + +Razumov, biting his lip till blood came to keep +himself from bursting into imprecations, +followed the owner of the den, who, whispering +"Come along, little father," led him into a tiny +hole of a place behind the wooden counter, +whence proceeded a sound of splashing. A wet +and bedraggled creature, a sort of sexless and +shivering scarecrow, washed glasses in there, +bending over a wooden tub by the light of a +tallow dip. + +"Yes, little father," the man in the long caftan +said plaintively. He had a brown, cunning +little face, a thin greyish beard. Trying to +light a tin lantern he hugged it to his breast +and talked garrulously the while. + +He would show Ziemianitch to the gentleman to +prove there were no lies told. And he would +show him drunk. His woman, it seems, ran away +from him last night. "Such a hag she was! +Thin! Pfui!" He spat. They were always +running away from that driver of the devil--and +he sixty years old too; could never get used to +it. But each heart knows sorrow after its own +kind and Ziemianitch was a born fool all his +days. And then he would fly to the bottle. +"'Who could bear life in our land without the +bottle?' he says. A proper Russian man--the +little pig. . . . Be pleased to follow me." + +Razumov crossed a quadrangle of deep snow +enclosed between high walls with innumerable +windows. Here and there a dim yellow light hung +within the four-square mass of darkness. The +house was an enormous slum, a hive of human +vermin, a monumental abode of misery towering on +the verge of starvation and despair. + +In a corner the ground sloped sharply down, and +Razumov followed the light of the lantern +through a small doorway into a long cavernous +place like a neglected subterranean byre. Deep +within, three shaggy little horses tied up to +rings hung their heads together, motionless and +shadowy in the dim light of the lantern. It +must have been the famous team of Haldin's +escape. Razumov peered fearfully into the +gloom. His guide pawed in the straw with his +foot. + +"Here he is. Ah! the little pigeon. A true +Russian man. 'No heavy hearts for me,' he says. + 'Bring out the bottle and take your ugly mug +out of my sight.' Ha! ha! ha! That's the fellow +he is." + +He held the lantern over a prone form of a man, +apparently fully dressed for outdoors. His head +was lost in a pointed cloth hood. On the other +side of a heap of straw protruded a pair of feet +in monstrous thick boots. + +" Always ready to drive," commented the keeper +of the eating-house. "A proper Russian driver +that. Saint or devil, night or day is all one +to Ziemianitch when his heart is free from +sorrow. 'I don't ask who you are, but where you +want to go,' he says. He would drive Satan +himself to his own abode and come back +chirruping to his horses. Many a one he has +driven who is clanking his chains in the +Nertchinsk mines by this time." + +Razumov shuddered. + +"Call him, wake him up," he faltered out. + +The other set down his light, stepped back and +launched a kick at the prostrate sleeper. The +man shook at the impact but did not move. At +the third kick he grunted but remained inert as +before. + +The eating-house keeper desisted and fetched a +deep sigh. + +"You see for yourself how it is. We have done +what we can for you." + +He picked up the lantern. The intense black +spokes of shadow swung about in the circle of +light. A terrible fury--the blind rage of self- +preservation--possessed Razumov. + +" Ah! The vile beast," he bellowed out in an +unearthly tone which made the lantern jump and +tremble! "I shall wake you! Give me . . .give +me . . ." + +He looked round wildly, seized the handle of a +stablefork and rushing forward struck at the +prostrate body with inarticulate cries. After a +time his cries ceased, and the rain of blows +fell in the stillness and shadows of the cellar- +like stable. Razumov belaboured Ziemianitch +with an insatiable fury, in great volleys of +sounding thwacks. Except for the violent +movements of Razumov nothing stirred, neither +the beaten man nor the spoke-like shadows on the +walls. And only the sound of blows was heard. +It was a weird scene. + +Suddenly there was a sharp crack. The stick +broke and half of it flew far away into the +gloom beyond the light. At the same time +Ziemianitch sat up. At this Razumov became as +motionless as the man with the lantern--only his +breast heaved for air as if ready to burst. + +Some dull sensation of pain must have penetrated +at last the consoling night of drunkenness +enwrapping the "bright Russian soul" of Haldin's +enthusiastic praise. But Ziemianitch evidently +saw nothing. His eyeballs blinked all white in +the light once, twice--then the gleam went out. +For a moment he sat in the straw with closed +eyes with a strange air of weary meditation, +then fell over slowly on his side without making +the slightest sound. Only the straw rustled a +little. Razumov stared wildly, fighting for his +breath. After a second or two he heard a light +snore. + +He flung from him the piece of stick remaining +in his grasp, and went off with great hasty +strides without looking back once. + +After going heedlessly for some fifty yards +along the street he walked into a snowdrift and +was up to his knees before he stopped. + +This recalled him to himself; and glancing about +he discovered he had been going in the wrong +direction. He retraced his steps, but now at a +more moderate pace. When passing before the +house he had just left he flourished his fist at +the sombre refuge of misery and crime rearing +its sinister bulk on the white ground. It had +an air of brooding. He let his arm fall by his +side--discouraged. + +Ziemianitch's passionate surrender to sorrow and +consolation had baffled him. That was the +people. A true Russian man! Razumov was glad +he had beaten that brute--the "bright soul" of +the other. Here they were: the people and the +enthusiast. + +Between the two he was done for. Between the +drunkenness of the peasant incapable of action +and the dream-intoxication of the idealist +incapable of perceiving the reason of things, +and the true character of men. It was a sort of +terrible childishness. But children had their +masters. "Ah! the stick, the stick, the stern +hand," thought Razumov, longing for power to +hurt and destroy. + +He was glad he had thrashed that brute. The +physical exertion had left his body in a +comfortable glow. His mental agitation too was +clarified as if all the feverishness had gone +out of him in a fit of outward violence. +Together with the persisting sense of terrible +danger he was conscious now of a tranquil, +unquenchable hate. + +He walked slower and slower. And indeed, +considering the guest he had in his rooms, it +was no wonder he lingered on the way. It was +like harbouring a pestilential disease that +would not perhaps take your life, but would take +from you all that made life worth living--a +subtle pest that would convert earth into a hell. + +What was he doing now? Lying on the bed as if +dead, with the back of his hands over his eyes ? + Razumov had a morbidly vivid vision of Haldin +on his bed--the white pillow hollowed by the +head, the legs in long boots, the upturned feet. + And in his abhorrence he said to himself, "I'll +kill him when I get home." But he knew very +well that that was of no use. The corpse +hanging round his neck would be nearly as fatal +as the living man. Nothing short of complete +annihilation would do. And that was impossible. + What then? Must one kill oneself to escape +this visitation ? + +Razumov's despair was too profoundly tinged with +hate to accept that issue. + +And yet it was despair--nothing less--at the +thought of having to live with Haldin for an +indefinite number of days in mortal alarm at +every sound. But perhaps when he heard that +this "bright soul" of Ziemianitch suffered from +a drunken eclipse the fellow would take his +infernal resignation somewhere else. And that +was not likely on the face of it. + +Razumov thought: "I am being crushed--and I +can't even run away." Other men had somewhere a +corner of the earth--some little house in the +provinces where they had a right to take their +troubles. A material refuge. He had nothing. +He had not even a moral refuge--the refuge of +confidence. To whom could he go with this tale-- +in all this great, great land? + +Razumov stamped his foot--and under the soft +carpet of snow felt the hard ground of Russia, +inanimate, cold, inert, like a sullen and tragic +mother hiding her face under a winding-sheet-- +his native soil!--his very own--without a +fireside, without a heart! + +He cast his eyes upwards and stood amazed. The +snow had ceased to fall, and now, as if by a +miracle, he saw above his head the clear black +sky of the northern winter, decorated with the +sumptuous fires of the stars. It was a canopy +fit for the resplendent purity of the snows. + +Razumov received an almost physical impression +of endless space and of countless millions. + +He responded to it with the readiness of a +Russian who is born to an inheritance of space +and numbers. Under the sumptuous immensity of +the sky, the snow covered the endless forests, +the frozen rivers, the plains of an immense +country, obliterating the landmarks, the +accidents of the ground, levelling everything +under its uniform whiteness, like a monstrous +blank page awaiting the record of an +inconceivable history. It covered the passive +land with its lives of countless people like +Ziemianitch and its handful of agitators like +this Haldin--murdering foolishly. + +It was a sort of sacred inertia. Razumov felt a +respect for it. A voice seemed to cry within +him, "Don't touch it." It was a guarantee of +duration, of safety, while the travail of +maturing destiny went on--a work not of +revolutions with their passionate levity of +action and their shifting impulses--but of +peace. What it needed was not the conflicting +aspirations of a people, but a will strong and +one: it wanted not the babble of many voices, +but a man--strong and one! + +Razumov stood on the point of conversion. He +was fascinated by its approach, by its +overpowering logic. For a train of thought is +never false. The falsehood lies deep in the +necessities of existence, in secret fears and +half-formed ambitions, in the secret confidence +combined with a secret mistrust of ourselves, in +the love of hope and the dread of uncertain days. + +In Russia, the land of spectral ideas and +disembodied aspirations, many brave minds have +turned away at last from the vain and endless +conflict to the one great historical fact of the +land. They turned to autocracy for the peace of +their patriotic conscience as a weary +unbeliever, touched by grace, turns to the faith +of his fathers for the blessing of spiritual +rest. Like other Russians before him, Razumov, +in conflict with himself, felt the touch of +grace upon his forehead. + +"Haldin means disruption," he thought to +himself, beginning to walk again. " What is he +with his indignation, with his talk of bondage-- +with his talk of God's justice? All that means +disruption. Better that thousands should suffer +than that a people should become a disintegrated +mass, helpless like dust in the wind. +Obscurantism is better than the light of +incendiary torches. The seed germinates in the +night. Out of the dark soil springs the perfect +plant. But a volcanic eruption is sterile, the +ruin of the fertile ground. And am I, who love +my country--who have nothing but that to love +and put my faith in--am I to have my future, +perhaps my usefulness, ruined by this sanguinary +fanatic?" + +The grace entered into Razumov. He believed now +in the man who would come at the appointed time. + +What is a throne? A few pieces of wood +upholstered in velvet. But a throne is a seat +of power too. The form of government is the +shape of a tool--an instrument. But twenty +thousand bladders inflated by the noblest +sentiments and jostling against each other in +the air are a miserable incumbrance of space, +holding no power, possessing no will, having +nothing to give. + +He went on thus, heedless of the way, holding a +discourse with himself with extraordinary +abundance and facility. Generally his phrases +came to him slowly, after a conscious and +painstaking wooing. Some superior power had +inspired him with a flow of masterly argument as +certain converted sinners become overwhelmingly +loquacious. + +He felt an austere exultation. + +"What are the luridly smoky lucubrations of that +fellow to the clear grasp of my intellect?" he +thought. "Is not this my country? Have I not +got forty million brothers?" he asked himself, +unanswerably victorious in the silence of his +breast. And the fearful thrashing he had given +the inanimate Ziemianitch seemed to him a sign +of intimate union, a pathetically severe +necessity of brotherly love. "No! If I must +suffer let me at least suffer for my +convictions, not for a crime my reason--my cool +superior reason--rejects." + +He ceased to think for a moment. The silence in +his breast was complete. But he felt a +suspicious uneasiness, such as we may experience +when we enter an unlighted strange place--the +irrational feeling that something may jump upon +us in the dark--the absurd dread of the unseen. + +Of course he was far from being a moss-grown +reactionary. Everything was not for the best. +Despotic bureaucracy. . . abuses. . . +corruption. . . and so on. Capable men were +wanted. Enlightened intelligences. Devoted +hearts. But absolute power should be preserved-- +the tool ready for the man--for the great +autocrat of the future. Razumov believed in +him. The logic of history made him unavoidable. + The state of the people demanded him, "What +else?" he asked himself ardently, "could move +all that mass in one direction? Nothing could. +Nothing but a single will." + +He was persuaded that he was sacrificing his +personal longings of liberalism--rejecting the +attractive error for the stern Russian truth. +"That's patriotism," he observed mentally, and +added, "There's no stopping midway on that +road," and then remarked to himself, "I am not a +coward." + +And again there was a dead silence in Razumov's +breast. He walked with lowered head, making +room for no one. He walked slowly and his +thoughts returning spoke within him with solemn +slowness. + +"What is this Haldin? And what am I? Only two +grains of sand. But a great mountain is made up +of just such insignificant grains. And the +death of a man or of many men is an +insignificant thing. Yet we combat a contagious +pestilence. Do I want his death? No! I would +save him if I could--but no one can do that--he +is the withered member which must be cut off. +If I must perish through him, let me at least +not perish with him, and associated against my +will with his sombre folly that understands +nothing either of men or things. Why should I +leave a false memory?" + +It passed through his mind that there was no one +in the world who cared what sort of memory he +left behind him. He exclaimed to himself +instantly, "Perish vainly for a falsehood! . . . + What a miserable fate!" + +He was now in a more animated part of the town. +He did not remark the crash of two colliding +sledges close to the curb. The driver of one +bellowed tearfully at his fellow- + +" Oh, thou vile wretch!" + +This hoarse yell, let out nearly in his ear, +disturbed Razumov. He shook his head +impatiently and went on looking straight before +him. Suddenly on the snow, stretched on his +back right across his path, he saw Haldin, +solid, distinct, real, with his inverted hands +over his eyes, clad in a brown close-fitting +coat and long boots. He was lying out of the +way a little, as though he had selected that +place on purpose. The snow round him was +untrodden. + +This hallucination had such a solidity of aspect +that the first movement of Razumov was to reach +for his pocket to assure himself that the key of +his rooms was there. But he checked the impulse +with a disdainful curve of his lips. He +understood. His thought, concentrated intensely +on the figure left lying on his bed, had +culminated in this extraordinary illusion of the +sight. Razumov tackled the phenomenon calmly. +With a stern face, without a check and gazing +far beyond the vision, he walked on, +experiencing nothing but a slight tightening of +the chest. After passing he turned his head for +a glance, and saw only the unbroken track of his +footsteps over the place where the breast of the +phantom had been lying. + +Razumov walked on and after a little time +whispered his wonder to himself. + +"Exactly as if alive! Seemed to breathe! And +right in my way too! I have had an +extraordinary experience." + +He made a few steps and muttered through his set +teeth-- + +"I shall give him up." + +Then for some twenty yards or more all was +blank. He wrapped his cloak closer round him. +He pulled his cap well forward over his eyes. + +"Betray. A great word. What is betrayal? They +talk of a man betraying his country, his +friends, his sweetheart. There must be a moral +bond first. All a man can betray is his +conscience. And how is my conscience engaged +here; by what bond of common faith, of common +conviction, am I obliged to let that fanatical +idiot drag me down with him? On the contrary-- +every obligation of true courage is the other +way." + +Razumov looked round from under his cap. + +"What can the prejudice of the world reproach me +with? Have I provoked his confidence? No! +Have I by a single word, look, or gesture given +him reason to suppose that I accepted his trust +in me? No! It is true that I consented to go +and see his Ziemianitch. Well, I have been to +see him. And I broke a stick on his back too-- +the brute." + +Something seemed to turn over in his head +bringing uppermost a singularly hard, clear +facet of his brain. + +"It would be better, however," he reflected with +a quite different mental accent, "to keep that +circumstance altogether to myself." + +He had passed beyond the turn leading to his +lodgings, and had reached a wide and fashionable +street. Some shops were still open, and all the +restaurants. Lights fell on the pavement where +men in expensive fur coats, with here and there +the elegant figure of a woman, walked with an +air of leisure. Razumov looked at them with the +contempt of an austere believer for the +frivolous crowd. It was the world--those +officers, dignitaries, men of fashion, +officials, members of the Yacht Club. The event +of the morning affected them all. What would +they say if they knew what this student in a +cloak was going to do? + +"Not one of them is capable of feeling and +thinking as deeply as I can. How many of them +could accomplish an act of conscience?" + +Razumov lingered in the well-lighted street. He +was firmly decided. Indeed, it could hardly be +called a decision. He had simply discovered +what he had meant to do all along. And yet he +felt the need of some other mind's sanction. + +With something resembling anguish he said to +himself-- + +"I want to be understood." The universal +aspiration with all its profound and melancholy +meaning assailed heavily Razumov, who, amongst +eighty millions of his kith and kin, had no +heart to which he could open himself. + +The attorney was not to be thought of. He +despised the little agent of chicane too much. +One could not go and lay one's conscience before +the policeman at the corner. Neither was +Razumov anxious to go to the chief of his +district's police--a common-looking person whom +he used to see sometimes in the street in a +shabby uniform and with a smouldering cigarette +stuck to his lower lip. "He would begin by +locking me up most probably. At any rate, he is +certain to get excited and create an awful +commotion," thought Razumov practically + +An act of conscience must be done with outward +dignity. + +Razumov longed desperately for a word of advice, +for moral support. Who knows what true +loneliness is--not the conventional word, but +the naked terror? To the lonely themselves it +wears a mask. The most miserable outcast hugs +some memory or some illusion. Now and then a +fatal conjunction of events may lift the veil +for an instant. For an instant only. No human +being could bear a steady view of moral solitude +without going mad. + +Razumov had reached that point of vision. To +escape from it he embraced for a whole minute +the delirious purpose of rushing to his lodgings +and flinging himself on his knees by the side of +the bed with the dark figure stretched on it; to +pour out a full confession in passionate words +that would stir the whole being of that man to +its innermost depths; that would end in embraces +and tears; in an incredible fellowship of souls-- +such as the world had never seen. It was +sublime! + +Inwardly he wept and trembled already. But to +the casual eyes that were cast upon him he was +aware that he appeared as a tranquil student in +a cloak, out for a leisurely stroll. He noted, +too, the sidelong, brilliant glance of a pretty +woman--with a delicate head, and covered in the +hairy skins of wild beasts down to her feet, +like a frail and beautiful savage--which rested +for a moment with a sort of mocking tenderness +on the deep abstraction of that good-looking +young man. + +Suddenly Razumov stood still. The glimpse of a +passing grey whisker, caught and lost in the +same instant, had evoked the complete image of +Prince K---, the man who once had pressed his +hand as no other man had pressed it--a faint but +lingering pressure like a secret sign, like a +half-unwilling caress. + +And Razumov marvelled at himself. Why did he +not think of him before! + +"A senator, a dignitary, a great personage, the +very man--He!" + +A strange softening emotion came over Razumov-- +made his knees shake a little. He repressed it +with a new-born austerity. All that sentiment +was pernicious nonsense. He couldn't be quick +enough; and when he got into a sledge he shouted +to the driver-- + +"to the K--- Palace. Get on--you! Fly!" The +startled moujik, bearded up to the very whites +of his eyes, answered obsequiously-- + +"I hear, your high Nobility." + +It was lucky for Razumov that Prince K--- was +not a man of timid character. On the day of Mr. +de P---'s murder an extreme alarm and +despondency prevailed in the high official +spheres. + +Prince K---, sitting sadly alone in his study, +was told by his alarmed servants that a +mysterious young man had forced his way into the +hall, refused to tell his name and the nature of +his business, and would not move from there till +he had seen his Excellency in private. Instead +of locking himself up and telephoning for the +police, as nine out of ten high personages would +have done that evening, the Prince gave way to +curiosity and came quietly to the door of his +study. + +In the hall, the front door standing wide open, +he recognised at once Razumov, pale as death, +his eyes blazing, and surrounded by perplexed +lackeys. + +The Prince was vexed beyond measure, and even +indignant. But his humane instincts and a +subtle sense of self-respect could not allow him +to let this young man be thrown out into the +street by base menials. He retreated unseen +into his room, and after a little rang his bell. + Razumov heard in the hall an ominously raised +harsh voice saying somewhere far away-- + +"Show the gentleman in here." + +Razumov walked in without a tremor. He felt +himself invulnerable--raised far above the +shallowness of common judgment. Though he saw +the Prince looking at him with black +displeasure, the lucidity of his mind, of which +he was very conscious, gave him an extraordinary +assurance. He was not asked to sit down. + +Half an hour later they appeared in the hall +together. The lackeys stood up, and the Prince, +moving with difficulty on his gouty feet, was +helped into his furs. The carriage had been +ordered before. When the great double door was +flung open with a crash, Razumov, who had been +standing silent with a lost gaze but with every +faculty intensely on the alert, heard the +Prince's voice-- + +"Your arm, young man." + +The mobile, superficial mind of the ex-Guards +officer, man of showy missions, experienced in +nothing but the arts of gallant intrigue and +worldly success, had been equally impressed by +the more obvious difficulties of such a +situation and by Razumov's quiet dignity in +stating them. + +He had said, "No. Upon the whole I can't +condemn the step you ventured to take by coming +to me with your story. It is not an affair for +police understrappers. The greatest importance +is attached to. . . . Set your mind at rest. I +shall see you through this most extraordinary +and difficult situation." + +Then the Prince rose to ring the bell, and +Razumov, making a short bow, had said with +deference-- + +"I have trusted my instinct. A young man having +no claim upon anybody in the world has in an +hour of trial involving his deepest political +convictions turned to an illustrious Russian-- +that's all." + +The Prince had exclaimed hastily-- + +"You have done well." + +In the carriage--it was a small brougham on +sleigh runners--Razumov broke the silence in a +voice that trembled slightly. + +"My gratitude surpasses the greatness of my +presumption." + +He gasped, feeling unexpectedly in the dark a +momentary pressure on his arm. + +"You have done well," repeated the Prince. + +When the carriage stopped the Prince murmured to +Razumov, who had never ventured a single +question-- + +"The house of General T---." + +In the middle of the snow-covered roadway blazed +a great bonfire. Some Cossacks, the bridles of +their horses over the arm, were warming +themselves around. Two sentries stood at the +door, several gendarmes lounged under the great +carriage gateway, and on the first-floor landing +two orderlies rose and stood at attention. +Razumov walked at the Prince's elbow. + +A surprising quantity of hot-house plants in +pots cumbered the floor of the ante-room. +Servants came forward. A young man in civilian +clothes arrived hurriedly, was whispered to, +bowed low, and exclaiming zealously, "Certainly-- +this minute," fled within somewhere. The Prince +signed to Razumov. + +They passed through a suite of reception-rooms +all barely lit and one of them prepared for +dancing. The wife of the General had put off +her party. An atmosphere of consternation +pervaded the place. But the General's own room, +with heavy sombre hangings, two massive desks, +and deep armchairs, had all the lights turned +on. The footman shut the door behind them and +they waited. + +There was a coal fire in an English grate; +Razumov had never before seen such a fire; and +the silence of the room was like the silence of +the grave; perfect, measureless, for even the +clock on the mantelpiece made no sound. Filling +a corner, on a black pedestal, stood a quarter- +life-size smooth-limbed bronze of an adolescent +figure, running. The Prince observed in an +undertone- + +"Spontini's. 'Flight of Youth.' Exquisite." + +"Admirable," assented Razumov faintly. + +They said nothing more after this, the Prince +silent with his grand air, Razumov staring at +the statue. He was worried by a sensation +resembling the gnawing of hunger. + +He did not turn when he heard an inner door fly +open, and a quick footstep, muffled on the +carpet. + +The Prince's voice immediately exclaimed, thick +with excitement-- + +"We have got him--_ce miserable_. A worthy +young man came to me-- No! It's incredible. . +. ." + +Razumov held his breath before the bronze as if +expecting a crash. Behind his back a voice he +had never heard before insisted politely-- + +"_Asseyez-vous donc_." + +The Prince almost shrieked, "_Mais comprenez- +vous, mon cher! L'assassin_! the murderer--we +have got him. . . ." + +Razumov spun round. The General's smooth big +cheeks rested on the stiff collar of his +uniform. He must have been already looking at +Razumov, because that last saw the pale blue +eyes fastened on him coldly. + +The Prince from a chair waved an impressive hand. + +"This is a most honourable young man whom +Providence itself. . . Mr. Razumov." + +The General acknowledged the introduction by +frowning at Razumov, who did not make the +slightest movement. + +Sitting down before his desk the General +listened with compressed lips. It was +impossible to detect any sign of emotion on his +face. + +Razumov watched the immobility of the fleshy +profile. But it lasted only a moment, till the +Prince had finished; and when the General turned +to the providential young man, his florid +complexion, the blue, unbelieving eyes and the +bright white flash of an automatic smile had an +air of jovial, careless cruelty. He expressed +no wonder at the extraordinary story--no +pleasure or excitement--no incredulity either. +He betrayed no sentiment whatever. Only with a +politeness almost deferential suggested that +"the bird might have flown while Mr.--Mr. +Razumov was running about the streets." + +Razumov advanced to the middle of the room and +said, "The door is locked and I have the key in +my pocket." + +His loathing for the man was intense. It had +come upon him so unawares that he felt he had +not kept it out of his voice. The General +looked up at him thoughtfully, and Razumov +grinned. + +All this went over the head of Prince K--- +seated in a deep armchair, very tired and +impatient. + +"A student called Haldin," said the General +thoughtfully. + +Razumov ceased to grin. + +"That is his name," he said unnecessarily loud. +" Victor Victorovitch Haldin--a student." + +The General shifted his position a little. + +"How is he dressed? Would you have the goodness +to tell me?" + +Razumov angrily described Haldin's clothing in a +few jerky words. The General stared all the +time, then addressing the Prince-- + +"We were not without some indications," he said +in French. "A good woman who was in the street +described to us somebody wearing a dress of the +sort as the thrower of the second bomb. We have +detained her at the Secretariat, and every one +in a Tcherkess coat we could lay our hands on +has been brought to her to look at. She kept on +crossing herself and shaking her head at them. +It was exasperating. . . . "He turned to +Razumov, and in Russian, with friendly reproach-- + +"Take a chair, Mr. Razumov--do. Why are you +standing? " + +Razumov sat down carelessly and looked at the +General. + +"This goggle-eyed imbecile understands nothing," +he thought. + +The Prince began to speak loftily. + +"Mr. Razumov is a young man of conspicuous +abilities. I have it at heart that his future +should not. . . ." + +"Certainly," interrupted the General, with a +movement of the hand. "Has he any weapons on +him, do you think, Mr. Razumov? " + +The General employed a gentle musical voice. +Razumov answered with suppressed irritation-- + +"No. But my razors are lying about--you +understand." + +The General lowered his head approvingly. + +"Precisely." + +Then to the Prince, explaining courteously-- + +"We want that bird alive. It will be the devil +if we can't make him sing a little before we are +done with him." + +The grave-like silence of the room with its mute +clock fell upon the polite modulations of this +terrible phrase. The Prince, hidden in the +chair, made no sound. + +The General unexpectedly developed a thought. + +"Fidelity to menaced institutions on which +depend the safety of a throne and of a people is +no child's play. We know that, _mon Prince,_ +and--_tenez_--"he went on with a sort of +flattering harshness, "Mr. Razumov here begins +to understand that too." + +His eyes which he turned upon Razumov seemed to +be starting out of his head. This grotesqueness +of aspect no longer shocked Razumov. He said +with gloomy conviction-- + +"Haldin will never speak." + +"That remains to be seen," muttered the General. + +"I am certain," insisted Razumov. "A man like +this never speaks. . . . Do you imagine that I +am here from fear?" he added violently. He felt +ready to stand by his opinion of Haldin to the +last extremity. + +"Certainly not," protested the General, with +great simplicity of tone. "And I don't mind +telling you, Mr. Razumov, that if he had not +come with his tale to such a staunch and loyal +Russian as you, he would have disappeared like a +stone in the water . . . which would have had a +detestable effect," he added, with a bright, +cruel smile under his stony stare. "So you see, +there can be no suspicion of any fear here." + +The Prince intervened, looking at Razumov round +the back of the armchair. + +"Nobody doubts the moral soundness of your +action. Be at ease in that respect, pray." + +He turned to the General uneasily. + +"That's why I am here. You may be surprised why +I should . . . ." + +The General hastened to interrupt. + +"Not at all. Extremely natural. You saw the +importance. . . ." + +"Yes," broke in the Prince. "And I venture to +ask insistently that mine and Mr. Razumov's +intervention should not become public. He is a +young man of promise--of remarkable aptitudes." + +"I haven't a doubt of it," murmured the General. + "He inspires confidence." + +"All sorts of pernicious views are so widespread +nowadays--they taint such unexpected quarters-- +that, monstrous as it seems, he might suffer. . +. his studies. . . his. . ." + +The General, with his elbows on the desk, took +his head between his hands. + +"Yes. Yes. I am thinking it out. . . . How +long is it since you left him at your rooms, Mr. +Razumov?" + +Razumov mentioned the hour which nearly +corresponded with the time of his distracted +flight from the big slum house. He had made up +his mind to keep Ziemianitch out of the affair +completely. To mention him at all would mean +imprisonment for the "bright soul," perhaps +cruel floggings, and in the end a journey to +Siberia in chains. Razumov, who had beaten +Ziemianitch, felt for him now a vague, +remorseful tenderness. + +The General, giving way for the first time to +his secret sentiments, exclaimed contemptuously-- + +"And you say he came in to make you this +confidence like this--for nothing--_a propos des +bottes_." + +Razumov felt danger in the air. The merciless +suspicion of despotism had spoken openly at +last. Sudden fear sealed Razumov's lips. The +silence of the room resembled now the silence of +a deep dungeon, where time does not count, and a +suspect person is sometimes forgotten for ever. +But the Prince came to the rescue. + +"Providence itself has led the wretch in a +moment of mental aberration to seek Mr. Razumov +on the strength of some old, utterly +misinterpreted exchange of ideas--some sort of +idle speculative conversation--months ago--I am +told--and completely forgotten till now by Mr. +Razumov." + +"Mr. Razumov," queried the General meditatively, +after a short silence, "do you often indulge in +speculative conversation?" + +"No, Excellency," answered Razumov, coolly, in a +sudden access of self-confidence. "I am a man +of deep convictions. Crude opinions are in the +air. They are not always worth combating. But +even the silent contempt of a serious mind may +be misinterpreted by headlong utopists." + +The General stared from between his hands. +Prince K--- murmured-- + +"A serious young man. _Un esprit superieur_." + +"I see that, _mon cher Prince_," said the +General. "Mr. Razumov is quite safe with me. I +am interested in him. He has, it seems, the +great and useful quality of inspiring +confidence. What I was wondering at is why the +other should mention anything at all--I mean +even the bare fact alone--if his object was only +to obtain temporary shelter for a few hours. +For, after all, nothing was easier than to say +nothing about it unless, indeed, he were trying, +under a crazy misapprehension of your true +sentiments, to enlist your assistance--eh, Mr. +Razumov?" + +It seemed to Razumov that the floor was moving +slightly. This grotesque man in a tight uniform +was terrible. It was right that he should be +terrible. + +"I can see what your Excellency has in your +mind. But I can only answer that I don't know +why." + +"I have nothing in my mind," murmured the +General, with gentle surprise. + +"I am his prey--his helpless prey," thought +Razumov. The fatigues and the disgusts of that +afternoon, the need to forget, the fear which he +could not keep off, reawakened his hate for +Haldin. + +"Then I can't help your Excellency. I don't +know what he meant. I only know there was a +moment when I wished to kill him. There was +also a moment when I wished myself dead. I said +nothing. I was overcome. I provoked no +confidence--I asked for no explanations--" + +Razumov seemed beside himself; but his mind was +lucid. It was really a calculated outburst. + +"It is rather a pity," the General said, "that +you did not. Don't you know at all what he +means to do?" Razumov calmed down and saw an +opening there. + +"He told me he was in hopes that a sledge would +meet him about half an hour after midnight at +the seventh lamp-post on the left from the upper +end of Karabelnaya. At any rate, he meant to be +there at that time. He did not even ask me for +a change of clothes." + +"_Ah voila_!" said the General, turning to +Prince K with an air of satisfaction. "There is +a way to keep your _protege_, Mr. Razumov, quite +clear of any connexion with the actual arrest. +We shall be ready for that gentleman in +Karabelnaya." + +The Prince expressed his gratitude. There was +real emotion in his voice. Razumov, motionless, +silent, sat staring at the carpet. The General +turned to him. + +"Half an hour after midnight. Till then we have +to depend on you, Mr. Razumov. You don't think +he is likely to change his purpose?" + +"How can I tell?" said Razumov. "Those men are +not of the sort that ever changes its purpose." + +" What men do you mean?" + +"Fanatical lovers of liberty in general. +Liberty with a capital L, Excellency. Liberty +that means nothing precise. Liberty in whose +name crimes are committed." + +The General murmured-- + +"I detest rebels of every kind. I can't help +it. It's my nature!" + +He clenched a fist and shook it, drawing back +his arm. "They shall be destroyed, then." + +"They have made a sacrifice of their lives +beforehand," said Razumov with malicious +pleasure and looking the General straight in the +face. "If Haldin does change his purpose to- +night, you may depend on it that it will not be +to save his life by flight in some other way. +He would have thought then of something else to +attempt. But that is not likely." + +The General repeated as if to himself, "They +shall be destroyed." + +Razumov assumed an impenetrable expression. + +The Prince exclaimed-- + +"What a terrible necessity!" + +The General's arm was lowered slowly. + +"One comfort there is. That brood leaves no +posterity. I've always said it, one effort, +pitiless, persistent, steady--and we are done +with them for ever." + +Razumov thought to himself that this man +entrusted with so much arbitrary power must have +believed what he said or else he could not have +gone on bearing the responsibility. + +"I detest rebels. These subversive minds! +These intellectual _debauches_! My existence +has been built on fidelity. It's a feeling. To +defend it I am ready to lay down my life--and +even my honour--if that were needed. But pray +tell me what honour can there be as against +rebels--against people that deny God Himself-- +perfect unbelievers! Brutes. It is horrible to +think of." + +During this tirade Razumov, facing the General, +had nodded slightly twice. Prince K---, +standing on one side with his grand air, +murmured, casting up his eyes-- + +"_Helas!_" + +Then lowering his glance and with great decision +declared-- + +"This young man, General, is perfectly fit to +apprehend the bearing of your memorable words." + +The General's whole expression changed from dull +resentment to perfect urbanity. + +"I would ask now, Mr. Razumov," he said, "to +return to his home. Note that I don't ask Mr. +Razumov whether he has justified his absence to +his guest. No doubt he did this sufficiently. +But I don't ask. Mr. Razumov inspires +confidence. It is a great gift. I only suggest +that a more prolonged absence might awaken the +criminal's suspicions and induce him perhaps to +change his plans." + +He rose and with a scrupulous courtesy escorted +his visitors to the ante-room encumbered with +flower-pots. + +Razumov parted with the Prince at the corner of +a street. In the carriage he had listened to +speeches where natural sentiment struggled with +caution. Evidently the Prince was afraid of +encouraging any hopes of future intercourse. +But there was a touch of tenderness in the voice +uttering in the dark the guarded general phrases +of goodwill. And the Prince too said-- + +"I have perfect confidence in you, Mr. Razumov." + +"They all, it seems, have confidence in me," +thought Razumov dully. He had an indulgent +contempt for the man sitting shoulder to +shoulder with him in the confined space. +Probably he was afraid of scenes with his wife. +She was said to be proud and violent. + +It seemed to him bizarre that secrecy should +play such a large part in the comfort and safety +of lives. But he wanted to put the Prince's +mind at ease; and with a proper amount of +emphasis he said that, being conscious of some +small abilities and confident in his power of +work, he trusted his future to his own +exertions. He expressed his gratitude for the +helping hand. Such dangerous situations did not +occur twice in the course of one life--he added. + +"And you have met this one with a firmness of +mind and correctness of feeling which give me a +high idea of your worth," the Prince said +solemnly. "You have now only to persevere--to +persevere." + +On getting out on the pavement Razumov saw an +ungloved hand extended to him through the +lowered window of the brougham. It detained his +own in its grasp for a moment, while the light +of a street lamp fell upon the Prince's long +face and old-fashioned grey whiskers. + +"I hope you are perfectly reassured now as to +the consequences. . . " + +"After what your Excellency has condescended to +do for me, I can only rely on my conscience." + +"_Adieu_," said the whiskered head with feeling. + +Razumov bowed. The brougham glided away with a +slight swish in the snow--he was alone on the +edge of the pavement. + +He said to himself that there was nothing to +think about, and began walking towards his home. + +He walked quietly. It was a common experience +to walk thus home to bed after an evening spent +somewhere with his fellows or in the cheaper +seats of a theatre. After he had gone a little +way the familiarity of things got hold of him. +Nothing was changed. There was the familiar +corner; and when he turned it he saw the +familiar dim light of the provision shop kept by +a German woman. There were loaves of stale +bread, bunches of onions and strings of sausages +behind the small window-panes. They were +closing it. The sickly lame fellow whom he knew +so well by sight staggered out into the snow +embracing a large shutter. + +Nothing would change. There was the familiar +gateway yawning black with feeble glimmers +marking the arches of the different staircases. + +The sense of life's continuity depended on +trifling bodily impressions. The trivialities +of daily existence were an armour for the soul. +And this thought reinforced the inward quietness +of Razumov as he began to climb the stairs +familiar to his feet in the dark, with his hand +on the familiar clammy banister. The +exceptional could not prevail against the +material contacts which make one day resemble +another. To-morrow would be like yesterday. + +It was only on the stage that the unusual was +outwardly acknowledged. + +"I suppose," thought Razumov, "that if I had +made up my mind to blow out my brains on the +landing I would be going up these stairs as +quietly as I am doing it now. What's a man to +do? What must be must be. Extraordinary things +do happen. But when they have happened they are +done with. Thus, too, when the mind is made up. + That question is done with. And the daily +concerns, the familiarities of our thought +swallow it up--and the life goes on as before +with its mysterious and secret sides quite out +of sight, as they should be. Life is a public +thing." + +Razumov unlocked his door and took the key out; +entered very quietly and bolted the door behind +him carefully. + +He thought, "He hears me," and after bolting the +door he stood still holding his breath. There +was not a sound. He crossed the bare outer +room, stepping deliberately in the darkness. +Entering the other, he felt all over his table +for the matchbox. The silence, but for the +groping of his hand, was profound. Could the +fellow be sleeping so soundly? + +He struck a light and looked at the bed. Haldin +was lying on his back as before, only both his +hands were under his head. His eyes were open. +He stared at the ceiling. + +Razumov held the match up. He saw the clear-cut +features, the firm chin, the white forehead and +the topknot of fair hair against the white +pillow. There he was, lying flat on his back. +Razumov thought suddenly, "I have walked over +his chest." + +He continued to stare till the match burnt +itself out; then struck another and lit the lamp +in silence without looking towards the bed any +more. He had turned his back on it and was +hanging his coat on a peg when he heard Haldin +sigh profoundly, then ask in a tired voice-- + +"Well! And what have you arranged?" + +The emotion was so great that Razumov was glad +to put his hands against the wall. A diabolical +impulse to say, "I have given you up to the +police," frightened him exceedingly. But he did +not say that. He said, without turning round, +in a muffled voice-- + +"It's done." + +Again he heard Haldin sigh. He walked to the +table, sat down with the lamp before him, and +only then looked towards the bed. + +In the distant corner of the large room far away +from the lamp, which was small and provided with +a very thick china shade, Haldin appeared like a +dark and elongated shape--rigid with the +immobility of death. This body seemed to have +less substance than its own phantom walked over +by Razumov in the street white with snow. It +was more alarming in its shadowy, persistent +reality than the distinct but vanishing illusion. + +Haldin was heard again. + +"You must have had a walk--such a walk. . ." he +murmured deprecatingly.'' This weather. . . ." + +Razumov answered with energy-- + +" Horrible walk. . . . A nightmare of a walk." + +He shuddered audibly. Haldin sighed once more, +then-- + +"And so you have seen Ziemianitch--brother?" + +"I've seen him." + +Razumov, remembering the time he had spent with +the Prince, thought it prudent to add, "I had to +wait some time." + +"A character--eh? It's extraordinary what a +sense of the necessity of freedom there is in +that man. And he has sayings too--simple, to +the point, such as only the people can invent in +their rough sagacity. A character that. . . ." + +"I, you understand, haven't had much +opportunity. . . ." Razumov muttered through +his teeth. + +Haldin continued to stare at the ceiling. + +"You see, brother, I have been a good deal in +that house of late. I used to take there books-- +leaflets. Not a few of the poor people who live +there can read. And, you see, the guests for +the feast of freedom must be sought for in +byways and hedges. The truth is, I have almost +lived in that house of late. I slept sometimes +in the stable. There is a stable. . . ." + +"That's where I had my interview with +Ziemianitch," interrupted Razumov gently. A +mocking spirit entered into him and he added, +"It was satisfactory in a sense. I came away +from it much relieved." + +"Ah! he's a fellow," went on Haldin, talking +slowly at the ceiling. "I came to know him in +that way, you see. For some weeks now, ever +since I resigned myself to do what had to be +done, I tried to isolate myself. I gave up my +rooms. What was the good of exposing a decent +widow woman to the risk of being worried out of +her mind by the police? I gave up seeing any of +our comrades. . . ." + +Razumov drew to himself a half-sheet of paper +and began to trace lines on it with a pencil. + +"Upon my word," he thought angrily, "he seems to +have thought of everybody's safety but mine." + +Haldin was talking on. + +"This morning--ah! this morning--that was +different. How can I explain to you? Before +the deed was done I wandered at night and lay +hid in the day, thinking it out, and I felt +restful. Sleepless but restful. What was there +for me to torment myself about? But this +morning--after! Then it was that I became +restless. I could not have stopped in that big +house full of misery. The miserable of this +world can't give you peace. Then when that +silly caretaker began to shout, I said to +myself, 'There is a young man in this town head +and shoulders above common prejudices.'" + +"Is he laughing at me?" .Razumov asked himself, +going on with his aimless drawing of triangles +and squares. And suddenly he thought: "My +behaviour must appear to him strange. Should he +take fright at my manner and rush off somewhere +I shall be undone completely. That infernal +General. . . ." + +He dropped the pencil and turned abruptly +towards the bed with the shadowy figure extended +full length on it--so much more indistinct than +the one over whose breast he had walked without +faltering. Was this, too, a phantom? + +The silence had lasted a long time. "He is no +longer here," was the thought against which +Razumov struggled desperately, quite frightened +at its absurdity. "He is already gone and this. +. .only. . . ." + +He could resist no longer. He sprang to his +feet, saying aloud, "I am intolerably anxious," +and in a few headlong strides stood by the side +of the bed. His hand fell lightly on Haldin's +shoulder, and directly he felt its reality he +was beset by an insane temptation to grip that +exposed throat and squeeze the breath out of +that body, lest it should escape his custody, +leaving only a phantom behind. + +Haldin did not stir a limb, but his overshadowed +eyes moving a little gazed upwards at Razumov +with wistful gratitude for this manifestation of +feeling. + +Razumov turned away and strode up and down the +room. "It would have been possibly a kindness," +he muttered to himself, and was appalled by the +nature of that apology for a murderous intention +his mind had found somewhere within him. And +all the same he could not give it up. He became +lucid about it. "What can he expect?" he +thought. "The halter--in the end. And I. . . ." + +This argument was interrupted by Haldin's voice. + +"Why be anxious for me? They can kill my body, +but they cannot exile my soul from this world. +I tell you what--I believe in this world so much +that I cannot conceive eternity otherwise than +as a very long life. That is perhaps the reason +I am so ready to die." + +"H'm," muttered Razumov, and biting his lower +lip he continued to walk up and down and to +carry on his strange argument. + +Yes, to a man in such a situation--of course it +would be an act of kindness. The question, +however, was not how to be kind, but how to be +firm. He was a slippery customer + +"I too, Victor Victorovitch, believe in this +world of ours," he said with force. "I too, +while I live. . . . But you seem determined to +haunt it. You can't seriously. . . mean" + +The voice of the motionless Haldin began-- + +"Haunt it! Truly, the oppressors of thought +which quickens the world, the destroyers of +souls which aspire to perfection of human +dignity, they shall be haunted. As to the +destroyers of my mere body, I have forgiven them +beforehand." + +Razumov had stopped apparently to listen, but at +the same time he was observing his own +sensations. He was vexed with himself for +attaching so much importance to what Haldin said. + +"The fellow's mad," he thought firmly, but this +opinion did not mollify him towards Haldin. It +was a particularly impudent form of lunacy--and +when it got loose in the sphere of public life +of a country, it was obviously the duty of every +good citizen. . . . + +This train of thought broke off short there and +was succeeded by a paroxysm of silent hatred +towards Haldin, so intense that Razumov hastened +to speak at random. + +"Yes. Eternity, of course. I, too, can't very +well represent it to myself. . . . I imagine +it, however, as something quiet and dull. There +would be nothing unexpected--don't you see? The +element of time would be wanting." + +He pulled out his watch and gazed at it. Haldin +turned over on his side and looked on intently. + +Razumov got frightened at this movement. A +slippery customer this fellow with a phantom. +It was not midnight yet. He hastened on-- + +"And unfathomable mysteries! Can you conceive +secret places in Eternity? Impossible. Whereas +life is full of them. There are secrets of +birth, for instance. One carries them on to the +grave. There is something comical. . . but +never mind. And there are secret motives of +conduct. A man's most open actions have a +secret side to them. That is interesting and so +unfathomable! For instance, a man goes out of a +room for a walk. Nothing more trivial in +appearance. And yet it may be momentous. He +comes back--he has seen perhaps a drunken brute, +taken particular notice of the snow on the +ground--and behold he is no longer the same man. + The most unlikely things have a secret power +over one's thoughts--the grey whiskers of a +particular person--the goggle eyes of another." + +Razumov's forehead was moist. He took a turn or +two in the room, his head low and smiling to +himself viciously. + +"Have you ever reflected on the power of goggle +eyes and grey whiskers? Excuse me. You seem to +think I must be crazy to talk in this vein at +such a time. But I am not talking lightly. I +have seen instances. It has happened to me once +to be talking to a man whose fate was affected +by physical facts of that kind. And the man did +not know it. Of course, it was a case of +conscience, but the material facts such as these +brought about the solution. . . . And you tell +me, Victor Victorovitch, not to be anxious! +Why! I am responsible for you," Razumov almost +shrieked. + +He avoided with difficulty a burst of +Mephistophelian laughter. Haldin, very pale, +raised himself on his elbow. + +"And the surprises of life," went on Razumov, +after glancing at the other uneasily. "Just +consider their astonishing nature. A mysterious +impulse induces you to come here. I don't say +you have done wrong. Indeed, from a certain +point of view you could not have done better. +You might have gone to a man with affections and +family ties. You have such ties yourself. As +to me, you know I have been brought up in an +educational institute where they did not give us +enough to eat. To talk of affection in such a +connexion--you perceive yourself. . . . As to +ties, the only ties I have in the world are +social. I must get acknowledged in some way +before I can act at all. I sit here working. . +. . And don't you think I am working for +progress too? I've got to find my own ideas of +the true way. . . . Pardon me," continued +Razumov, after drawing breath and with a short, +throaty laugh, "but I haven't inherited a +revolutionary inspiration together with a +resemblance from an uncle." + +He looked again at his watch and noticed with +sickening disgust that there were yet a good +many minutes to midnight. He tore watch and +chain off his waistcoat and laid them on the +table well in the circle of bright lamplight. +Haldin, reclining on his elbow, did not stir. +Razumov was made uneasy by this attitude. "What +move is he meditating over so quietly?" he +thought. "He must be prevented. I must keep on +talking to him." + +He raised his voice. + +"You are a son, a brother, a nephew, a cousin--I +don't know what--to no end of people. I am just +a man. Here I stand before you. A man with a +mind. Did it ever occur to you how a man who +had never heard a word of warm affection or +praise in his life would think on matters on +which you would think first with or against your +class, your domestic tradition--your fireside +prejudices?. . . Did you ever consider how a +man like that would feel? I have no domestic +tradition. I have nothing to think against. My +tradition is historical. What have I to look +back to but that national past from which you +gentlemen want to wrench away your future? Am I +to let my intelligence, my aspirations towards a +better lot, be robbed of the only thing it has +to go upon at the will of violent enthusiasts? +You come from your province, but all this land +is mine--or I have nothing. No doubt you shall +be looked upon as a martyr some day--a sort of +hero--a political saint. But I beg to be +excused. I am content in fitting myself to be a +worker. And what can you people do by +scattering a few drops of blood on the snow? On +this Immensity. On this unhappy Immensity! I +tell you," he cried, in a vibrating, subdued +voice, and advancing one step nearer the bed, +"that what it needs is not a lot of haunting +phantoms that I could walk through--but a man!" + +Haldin threw his arms forward as if to keep him +off in horror. + +"I understand it all now," he exclaimed, with +awestruck dismay. "I understand--at last." + +Razumov staggered back against the table. His +forehead broke out in perspiration while a cold +shudder ran down his spine. + +"What have I been saying?" he asked himself. +"Have I let him slip through my fingers after +all?" + +"He felt his lips go stiff like buckram, and +instead of a reassuring smile only achieved an +uncertain grimace. + +" What will you have?" he began in a +conciliating voice which got steady after the +first trembling word or two. "What will you +have? Consider--a man of studious, retired +habits--and suddenly like this. . . . I am not +practised in talking delicately. But. . . ." + +He felt anger, a wicked anger, get hold of him +again. + +"What were we to do together till midnight? Sit +here opposite each other and think of your--your- +shambles? " + +Haldin had a subdued, heartbroken attitude. He +bowed his head; his hands hung between his +knees. His voice was low and pained but calm. + +"I see now how it is, Razumov--brother. You are +a magnanimous soul, but my action is abhorrent +to you--alas. . . ." + +Razumov stared. From fright he had set his +teeth so hard that his whole face ached. It was +impossible for him to make a sound. + +"And even my person, too, is loathsome to you +perhaps," Haldin added mournfully, after a short +pause, looking up for a moment, then fixing his +gaze on the floor. "For indeed, unless one. . . +." + +He broke off evidently waiting for a word. +Razumov remained silent. Haldin nodded his head +dejectedly twice. + +"Of course. Of course," he murmured. . . . +"Ah! weary work!" + +He remained perfectly still for a moment, then +made Razumov's leaden heart strike a ponderous +blow by springing up briskly. + +"So be it," he cried sadly in a low, distinct +tone. "Farewell then." + +Razumov started forward, but the sight of +Haldin's raised hand checked him before he could +get away from the table. He leaned on it +heavily, listening to the faint sounds of some +town clock tolling the hour. Haldin, already at +the door, tall and straight as an arrow, with +his pale face and a hand raised attentively, +might have posed for the statue of a daring +youth listening to an inner voice. Razumov +mechanically glanced down at his watch. When he +looked towards the door again Haldin had +vanished. There was a faint rustling in the +outer room, the feeble click of a bolt drawn +back lightly. He was gone--almost as noiseless +as a vision. + +Razumov ran forward unsteadily, with parted, +voiceless lips. The outer door stood open. +Staggering out on the landing, he leaned far +over the banister. Gazing down into the deep +black shaft with a tiny glimmering flame at the +bottom, he traced by ear the rapid spiral +descent of somebody running down the stairs on +tiptoe. It was a light, swift, pattering sound, +which sank away from him into the depths: a +fleeting shadow passed over the glimmer--a wink +of the tiny flame. Then stillness. + +Razumov hung over, breathing the cold raw air +tainted by the evil smells of the unclean +staircase. All quiet. + +He went back into his room slowly, shutting the +doors after him. The peaceful steady light of +his reading-lamp shone on the watch. Razumov +stood looking down at the little white dial. It +wanted yet three minutes to midnight. He took +the watch into his hand fumblingly. + +"Slow," he muttered, and a strange fit of +nervelessness came over him. His knees shook, +the watch and chain slipped through his fingers +in an instant and fell on the floor. He was so +startled that he nearly fell himself. When at +last he regained enough confidence in his limbs +to stoop for it he held it to his ear at once. +After a while he growled-- + +"Stopped," and paused for quite a long time +before he muttered sourly-- + +"It's done. . . . And now to work." + +He sat down, reached haphazard for a book, +opened it in middle and began to read; but after +going conscientiously over two lines he lost his +hold on the print completely and did not try to +regain it. He thought-- + +"There was to a certainty a police agent of some +sort watching the house across the street." + +He imagined him lurking in a dark gateway, +goggle-eyed, muffled up in a cloak to the nose +and with a General's plumed, cocked hat on his +head. This absurdity made him start in the +chair convulsively. He literally had to shake +his head violently to get rid of it. The man +would be disguised perhaps as a peasant. . . a +beggar. . . . Perhaps he would be just buttoned +up in a dark overcoat and carrying a loaded +stick--a shifty-eyed rascal, smelling of raw +onions and spirits. + +This evocation brought on positive nausea. "Why +do I want to bother about this?" thought +Razumov with disgust. "Am I a gendarme? +Moreover, it is done." + +He got up in great agitation. It was not done. +Not yet. Not till half-past twelve. And the +watch had stopped. This reduced him to despair. + Impossible to know the time! The landlady and +all the people across the landing were asleep. +How could he go and. . . . God knows what they +would imagine, or how much they would guess. He +dared not go into the streets to find out. "I +am a suspect now. There's no use shirking that +fact," he said to himself bitterly. If Haldin +from some cause or another gave them the slip +and failed to turn up in the Karabelnaya the +police would be invading his lodging. And if he +were not in he could never clear himself. +Never. Razumov looked wildly about as if for +some means of seizing upon time which seemed to +have escaped him altogether. He had never, as +far as he could remember, heard the striking of +that town clock in his rooms before this night. +And he was not even sure now whether he had +heard it really on this night. + +He went to the window and stood there with +slightly bent head on the watch for the faint +sound. 'I will stay here till I hear +something," he said to himself. He stood still, +his ear turned to the panes. An atrocious +aching numbness with shooting pains in his back +and legs tortured him. He did not budge. His +mind hovered on the borders of delirium. He +heard himself suddenly saying, "I confess," as a +person might do on the rack. "I am on the +rack," he thought. He felt ready to swoon. The +faint deep boom of the distant clock seemed to +explode in his head--he heard it so clearly. . . +. One! + +If Haldin had not turned up the police would +have been already here ransacking the house. No +sound reached him. This time it was done. + +He dragged himself painfully to the table and +dropped into the chair. He flung the book away +and took a square sheet of paper. It was like +the pile of sheets covered with his neat minute +handwriting, only blank. He took a pen +brusquely and dipped it with a vague notion of +going on with the writing of his essay--but his +pen remained poised over the sheet. It hung +there for some time before it came down and +formed long scrawly letters. + +Still-faced and his lips set hard, Razumov began +to write. When he wrote a large hand his neat +writing lost its character altogether--became +unsteady, almost childish. He wrote five lines +one under the other. +History not Theory. +Patriotism not Internationalism. +Evolution not Revolution. +Direction not Destruction. +Unity not Disruption. + +He gazed at them dully. Then his eyes strayed +to the bed and remained fixed there for a good +many minutes, while his right hand groped all +over the table for the penknife. + +He rose at last, and walking up with measured +steps stabbed the paper with the penknife to the +lath and plaster wall at the head of the bed. +This done he stepped back a pace and flourished +his hand with a glance round the room. + +After that he never looked again at the bed. He +took his big cloak down from its peg and, +wrapping himself up closely, went to lie down on +the hard horse-hair sofa at the other side of +his room. A leaden sleep closed his eyelids at +once. Several times that night he woke up +shivering from a dream of walking through drifts +of snow in a Russia where he was as completely +alone as any betrayed autocrat could be; an +immense, wintry Russia which, somehow, his view +could embrace in all its enormous expanse as if +it were a map. But after each shuddering start +his heavy eyelids fell over his glazed eyes and +he slept again. + + +III + + +Approaching this part of Mr. Razumov's story, my +mind, the decent mind of an old teacher of +languages, feels more and more the difficulty of +the task. + +The task is not in truth the writing in the +narrative form a _precis_ of a strange human +document, but the rendering--I perceive it now +clearly--of the moral conditions ruling over a +large portion of this earth's surface; +conditions not easily to be understood, much +less discovered in the limits of a story, till +some key-word is found; a word that could stand +at the back of all the words covering the pages; +a word which, if not truth itself, may perchance +hold truth enough to help the moral discovery +which should be the object of every tale. + +I turn over for the hundredth time the leaves of +Mr. Razumov's record, I lay it aside, I take up +the pen--and the pen being ready for its office +of setting down black on white I hesitate. For +the word that persists in creeping under its +point is no other word than "cynicism." + +For that is the mark of Russian autocracy and of +Russian revolt. In its pride of numbers, in its +strange pretensions of sanctity, and in the +secret readiness to abase itself in suffering, +the spirit of Russia is the spirit of cynicism. +It informs the declarations of her statesmen, +the theories of her revolutionists, and the +mystic vaticinations of prophets to the point of +making freedom look like a form of debauch, and +the Christian virtues themselves appear actually +indecent. . . . But I must apologize for the +digression. It proceeds from the consideration +of the course taken by the story of Mr. Razumov +after his conservative convictions, diluted in a +vague liberalism natural to the ardour of his +age, had become crystallized by the shock of his +contact with Haldin. + +Razumov woke up for the tenth time perhaps with +a heavy shiver. Seeing the light of day in his +window, he resisted the inclination to lay +himself down again. He did not remember +anything, but he did not think it strange to +find himself on the sofa in his cloak and +chilled to the bone. The light coming through +the window seemed strangely cheerless, +containing no promise as the light of each new +day should for a young man. It was the +awakening of a man mortally ill, or of a man +ninety years old. He looked at the lamp which +had burnt itself out. It stood there, the +extinguished beacon of his labours, a cold +object of brass and porcelain, amongst the +scattered pages of his notes and small piles of +books--a mere litter of blackened paper--dead +matter--without significance or interest. + +He got on his feet, and divesting himself of his +cloak hung it on the peg, going through all the +motions mechanically. An incredible dullness, a +ditch-water stagnation was sensible to his +perceptions as though life had withdrawn itself +from all things and even from his own thoughts. +There was not a sound in the house. + +Turning away from the peg, he thought in that +same lifeless manner that it must be very early +yet; but when he looked at the watch on his +table he saw both hands arrested at twelve +o'clock. + +"Ah! yes," he mumbled to himself, and as if +beginning to get roused a little he took a +survey of his room. The paper stabbed to the +wall arrested his attention. He eyed it from +the distance without approval or perplexity; but +when he heard the servant-girl beginning to +bustle about in the outer room with the +_samovar_ for his morning tea, he walked up to +it and took it down with an air of profound +indifference. + +While doing this he glanced down at the bed on +which he had not slept that night. The hollow +in the pillow made by the weight of Haldin's +head was very noticeable. + +Even his anger at this sign of the man's passage +was dull. He did not try to nurse it into life. + He did nothing all that day; he neglected even +to brush his hair. The idea of going out never +occurred to him--and if he did not start a +connected train of thought it was not because he +was unable to think. It was because he was not +interested enough. + +He yawned frequently. He drank large quantities +of tea, he walked about aimlessly, and when he +sat down he did not budge for a long time. He +spent some time drumming on the window with his +finger-tips quietly. In his listless wanderings +round about the table he caught sight of his own +face in the looking-glass and that arrested him. + The eyes which returned his stare were the most +unhappy eyes he had ever seen. And this was the +first thing which disturbed the mental +stagnation of that day. + +He was not affected personally. He merely +thought that life without happiness is +impossible. What was happiness? He yawned and +went on shuffling about and about between the +walls of his room. Looking forward was +happiness--that's all--nothing more. To look +forward to the gratification of some desire, to +the gratification of some passion, love, +ambition, hate--hate too indubitably. Love and +hate. And to escape the dangers of existence, +to live without fear, was also happiness. There +was nothing else. Absence of fear--looking +forward. "Oh! the miserable lot of humanity!" +he exclaimed mentally; and added at once in his +thought, "I ought to be happy enough as far as +that goes." But he was not excited by that +assurance. On the contrary, he yawned again as +he had been yawning all day. He was mildly +surprised to discover himself being overtaken by +night. The room grew dark swiftly though time +had seemed to stand still. How was it that he +had not noticed the passing of that day? Of +course, it was the watch being stopped. . . . + +He did not light his lamp, but went over to the +bed and threw himself on it without any +hesitation. Lying on his back, he put his hands +under his head and stared upward. After a +moment he thought, "I am lying here like that +man. I wonder if he slept while I was +struggling with the blizzard in the streets. +No, he did not sleep. But why should I not +sleep?" and he felt the silence of the night +press upon all his limbs like a weight. + +In the calm of the hard frost outside, the clear- +cut strokes of the town clock counting off +midnight penetrated the quietness of his +suspended animation. + +Again he began to think. It was twenty-four +hours since that man left his room. Razumov had +a distinct feeling that Haldin in the fortress +was sleeping that night. It was a certitude +which made him angry because he did not want to +think of Haldin, but he justified it to himself +by physiological and psychological reasons. The +fellow had hardly slept for weeks on his own +confession, and now every incertitude was at an +end for him. No doubt he was looking forward to +the consummation of his martyrdom. A man who +resigns himself to kill need not go very far for +resignation to die. Haldin slept perhaps more +soundly than General T---, whose task--weary +work too--was not done, and over whose head hung +the sword of revolutionary vengeance. + +Razumov, remembering the thick-set man with his +heavy jowl resting on the collar of his uniform, +the champion of autocracy, who had let no sign +of surprise, incredulity, or joy escape him, but +whose goggle eyes could express a mortal hatred +of all rebellion--Razumov moved uneasily on the +bed. + +"He suspected me," he thought. "I suppose he +must suspect everybody. He would be capable of +suspecting his own wife, if Haldin had gone to +her boudoir with his confession." + +Razumov sat up in anguish. Was he to remain a +political suspect all his days? Was he to go +through life as a man not wholly to be trusted-- +with a bad secret police note tacked on to his +record? What sort of future could he look +forward to? + +"I am now a suspect," he thought again; but the +habit of reflection and that desire of safety, +of an ordered life, which was so strong in him +came to his assistance as the night wore on. +His quiet, steady, and laborious existence would +vouch at length for his loyalty. There were +many permitted ways to serve one's country. +There was an activity that made for progress +without being revolutionary. The field of +influence was great and infinitely varied--once +one had conquered a name. + +His thought like a circling bird reverted after +four-and-twenty hours to the silver medal, and +as it were poised itself there. + +When the day broke he had not slept, not for a +moment, but he got up not very tired and quite +sufficiently self-possessed for all practical +purposes. + +He went out and attended three lectures in the +morning. But the work in the library was a mere +dumb show of research. He sat with many volumes +open before him trying to make notes and +extracts. His new tranquillity was like a +flimsy garment, and seemed to float at the mercy +of a casual word. Betrayal! Why! the fellow +had done all that was necessary to betray +himself. Precious little had been needed to +deceive him. + +"I have said no word to him that was not +strictly true. Not one word," Razumov argued +with himself. + +Once engaged on this line of thought there could +be no question of doing useful work. The same +ideas went on passing through his mind, and he +pronounced mentally the same words over and over +again. He shut up all the books and rammed all +his papers into his pocket with convulsive +movements, raging inwardly against Haldin. + +As he was leaving the library a long bony +student in a threadbare overcoat joined him, +stepping moodily by his side. Razumov answered +his mumbled greeting without looking at him at +all. + +"What does he want with me? "he thought with a +strange dread of the unexpected which he tried +to shake off lest it should fasten itself upon +his life for good and all. And the other, +muttering cautiously with downcast eyes, +supposed that his comrade had seen the news of +de P---'s executioner--that was the expression +he used--having been arrested the night before +last. . . . + +"I've been ill--shut up in my rooms," Razumov +mumbled through his teeth. + +The tall student, raising his shoulders, shoved +his hands deep into his pockets. He had a +hairless, square, tallowy chin which trembled +slightly as he spoke, and his nose nipped bright +red by the sharp air looked like a false nose of +painted cardboard between the sallow cheeks. +His whole appearance was stamped with the mark +of cold and hunger. He stalked deliberately at +Razumov's elbow with his eyes on the ground. + +"It's an official statement," he continued in +the same cautious mutter." It may be a lie. +But there was somebody arrested between midnight +and one in the morning on Tuesday. This is +certain." + +And talking rapidly under the cover of his +downcast air, he told Razumov that this was +known through an inferior Government clerk +employed at the Central Secretariat. That man +belonged to one of the revolutionary circles. +"The same, in fact, I am affiliated to," +remarked the student. + +They were crossing a wide quadrangle. An +infinite distress possessed Razumov, annihilated +his energy, and before his eyes everything +appeared confused and as if evanescent. He +dared not leave the fellow there. "He may be +affiliated to the police," was the thought that +passed through his mind. "Who could tell?" But +eyeing the miserable frost-nipped, famine-struck +figure of his companion he perceived the +absurdity of his suspicion. + +"But I--you know--I don't belong to any circle. +I. . . ." + +He dared not say any more. Neither dared he +mend his pace. The other, raising and setting +down his lamentably shod feet with exact +deliberation, protested in a low tone that it +was not necessary for everybody to belong to an +organization. The most valuable personalities +remained outside. Some of the best work was +done outside the organization. Then very fast, +with whispering, feverish lips-- + +"The man arrested in the street was Haldin." + +And accepting Razumov's dismayed silence as +natural enough, he assured him that there was no +mistake. That Government clerk was on night +duty at the Secretariat. Hearing a great noise +of footsteps in the hall and aware that +political prisoners were brought over sometimes +at night from the fortress, he opened the door +of the room in which he was working, suddenly. +Before the gendarme on duty could push him back +and slam the door in his face, he had seen a +prisoner being partly carried, partly dragged +along the hall by a lot of policemen. He was +being used very brutally. And the clerk had +recognized Haldin perfectly. Less than half an +hour afterwards General T--- arrived at the +Secretariat to examine that prisoner personally. + +"Aren't you astonished?" concluded the gaunt +student. + +"No," said Razumov roughly--and at once +regretted his answer. + +"Everybody supposed Haldin was in the provinces-- +with his people. Didn't you? " + +The student turned his big hollow eyes upon +Razumov, who said unguardedly-- + +"His people are abroad." + +He could have bitten his tongue out with +vexation. The student pronounced in a tone of +profound meaning- + +" So! You alone were aware. . ." and stopped. + +"They have sworn my ruin," thought Razumov." +Have you spoken of this to anyone else?" he +asked with bitter curiosity. + +The other shook his head. + +"No, only to you. Our circle thought that as +Haldin had been often heard expressing a warm +appreciation of your character. . . ." + +Razumov could not restrain a gesture of angry +despair which the other must have misunderstood +in some way, because he ceased speaking and +turned away his black, lack-lustre eyes. + +They moved side by side in silence. Then the +gaunt student began to whisper again, with +averted gaze-- + +"As we have at present no one affiliated inside +the fortress so as to make it possible to +furnish him with a packet of poison, we have +considered already some sort of retaliatory +action--to follow very soon. . . ." + +Razumov trudging on interrupted-- + +"Were you acquainted with Haldin? Did he know +where you live?" + +"I had the happiness to hear him speak twice," +his companion answered in the feverish whisper +contrasting with the gloomy apathy of his face +and bearing. "He did not know where I live. . . +. I am lodging poorly with an artisan family. . +. . I have just a corner in a room. It is not +very practicable to see me there, but if you +should need me for anything I am ready. . . . + +Razumov trembled with rage and fear. He was +beside himself, but kept his voice low. + +"You are not to come near me. You are not to +speak to me. Never address a single word to me. + I forbid you." + +"Very well," said the other submissively, +showing no surprise whatever at this abrupt +prohibition. "You don't wish for secret +reasons. . . perfectly. . . I understand." + +He edged away at once, not looking up even; and +Razumov saw his gaunt, shabby, famine-stricken +figure cross the street obliquely with lowered +head and that peculiar exact motion of the feet. + +He watched him as one would watch a vision out +of a nightmare, then he continued on his way, +trying not to think. On his landing the +landlady seemed to be waiting for him. She was +a short, thick, shapeless woman with a large +yellow face wrapped up everlastingly in a black +woollen shawl. When she saw him come up the +last flight of stairs she flung both her arms up +excitedly, then clasped her hands before her +face. + +"Kirylo Sidorovitch--little father--what have +you been doing? And such a quiet young man, +too! The police are just gone this moment after +searching your rooms." + +Razumov gazed down at her with silent, +scrutinizing attention. Her puffy yellow +countenance was working with emotion. She +screwed up her eyes at him entreatingly. + +"Such a sensible young man! Anybody can see you +are sensible. And now--like this--all at once. +. . . What is the good of mixing yourself up +with these Nihilists? Do give over, little +father. They are unlucky people." + +Razumov moved his shoulders slightly. + +"Or is it that some secret enemy has been +calumniating you, Kirylo Sidorovitch? The world +is full of black hearts and false denunciations +nowadays. There is much fear about." + +"Have you heard that I have been denounced by +some one?" asked Razumov, without taking his +eyes off her quivering face. + +But she had not heard anything. She had tried +to find out by asking the police captain while +his men were turning the room upside down. The +police captain of the district had known her for +the last eleven years and was a humane person. +But he said to her on the landing, looking very +black and vexed-- + +"My good woman, do not ask questions. I don't +know anything myself. The order comes from +higher quarters." + +And indeed there had appeared, shortly after the +arrival of the policemen of the district, a very +superior gentleman in a fur coat and a shiny +hat, who sat down in the room and looked through +all the papers himself. He came alone and went +away by himself, taking nothing with him. She +had been trying to put things straight a little +since they left. + +Razumov turned away brusquely and entered his +rooms. + +All his books had been shaken and thrown on the +floor. His landlady followed him, and stooping +painfully began to pick them up into her apron. +His papers and notes which were kept always +neatly sorted (they all related to his studies) +had been shuffled up and heaped together into a +ragged pile in the middle of the table. + +This disorder affected him profoundly, +unreasonably. He sat down and stared. He had a +distinct sensation of his very existence being +undermined in some mysterious manner, of his +moral supports falling away from him one by one. + He even experienced a slight physical giddiness +and made a movement as if to reach for something +to steady himself with. + +The old woman, rising to her feet with a low +groan, shot all the books she had collected in +her apron on to the sofa and left the room +muttering and sighing. + +It was only then that he noticed that the sheet +of paper which for one night had remained +stabbed to the wall above his empty bed was +lying on top of the pile. + +When he had taken it down the day before he had +folded it in four, absent-mindedly, before +dropping it on the table. And now he saw it +lying uppermost, spread out, smoothed out even +and covering all the confused pile of pages, the +record of his intellectual life for the last +three years. It had not been flung there. It +had been placed there--smoothed out, too! He +guessed in that an intention of profound meaning- +-or perhaps some inexplicable mockery. + +He sat staring at the piece of paper till his +eyes began to smart. He did not attempt to put +his papers in order, either that evening or the +next day--which he spent at home in a state of +peculiar irresolution. This irresolution bore +upon the question whether he should continue to +live--neither more nor less. But its nature was +very far removed from the hesitation of a man +contemplating suicide. The idea of laying +violent hands upon his body did not occur to +Razumov. The unrelated organism bearing that +label, walking, breathing, wearing these +clothes, was of no importance to anyone, unless +maybe to the landlady. The true Razumov had his +being in the willed, in the determined future-- +in that future menaced by the lawlessness of +autocracy--for autocracy knows no law--and the +lawlessness of revolution. The feeling that his +moral personality was at the mercy of these +lawless forces was so strong that he asked +himself seriously if it were worth while to go +on accomplishing the mental functions of that +existence which seemed no longer his own. + +"What is the good of exerting my intelligence, +of pursuing the systematic development of my +faculties and all my plans of work?" he asked +himself. "I want to guide my conduct by +reasonable convictions, but what security have I +against something--some destructive horror-- +walking in upon me as I sit here?. . ." + +Razumov looked apprehensively towards the door +of the outer room as if expecting some shape of +evil to turn the handle and appear before him +silently. + +"A common thief," he said to himself," finds +more guarantees in the law he is breaking, and +even a brute like Ziemianitch has his +consolation." Razumov envied the materialism of +the thief and the passion of the incorrigible +lover. The consequences of their actions were +always clear and their lives remained their own. + +But he slept as soundly that night as though he +had been consoling himself in the manner of +Ziemianitch. He dropped off suddenly, lay like +a log, remembered no dream on waking. But it +was as if his soul had gone out in the night to +gather the flowers of wrathful wisdom. He got +up in a mood of grim determination and as if +with a new knowledge of his own nature. He +looked mockingly on the heap of papers on his +table; and left his room to attend the lectures, +muttering to himself, "We shall see." + +He was in no humour to talk to anybody or hear +himself questioned as to his absence from +lectures the day before. But it was difficult +to repulse rudely a very good comrade with a +smooth pink face and fair hair, bearing the +nickname amongst his fellow-students of "Madcap +Kostia." He was the idolized only son of a very +wealthy and illiterate Government contractor, +and attended the lectures only during the +periodical fits of contrition following upon +tearful paternal remonstrances. Noisily +blundering like a retriever puppy, his elated +voice and great gestures filled the bare academy +corridors with the joy of thoughtless animal +life, provoking indulgent smiles at a great +distance. His usual discourses treated of +trotting horses, wine-parties in expensive +restaurants, and the merits of persons of easy +virtue, with a disarming artlessness of outlook. + He pounced upon Razumov about midday, somewhat +less uproariously than his habit was, and led +him aside. + +"Just a moment, Kirylo Sidorovitch. A few words +here in this quiet corner." + +He felt Razumov's reluctance, and insinuated his +hand under his arm caressingly. + +"No--pray do. I don't want to talk to you about +any of my silly scrapes. What are my scrapes? +Absolutely nothing. Mere childishness. The +other night I flung a fellow out of a certain +place where I was having a fairly good time. A +tyrannical little beast of a quill-driver from +the Treasury department. He was bullying the +people of the house. I rebuked him. 'You are +not behaving humanely to God's creatures that +are a jolly sight more estimable than yourself,' + I said. I can't bear to see any tyranny, +Kirylo Sidorovitch. Upon my word I can't. He +didn't take it in good part at all. 'Who's that +impudent puppy ?' he begins to shout. I was in +excellent form as it happened, and he went +through the closed window very suddenly. He +flew quite a long way into the yard. I raged +like--like a--minotaur. The women clung to me +and screamed, the fiddlers got under the table. +. . . Such fun! My dad had to put his hand +pretty deep into his pocket, I can tell you." +He chuckled. + +"My dad is a very useful man. Jolly good thing +it is for me, too. I do get into unholy +scrapes." + +His elation fell. That was just it. What was +his life? Insignificant; no good to anyone; a +mere festivity. It would end some fine day in +his getting his skull split with a champagne +bottle in a drunken brawl. At such times, too, +when men were sacrificing themselves to ideas. +But he could never get any ideas into his head. +His head wasn't worth anything better than to be +split by a champagne bottle. + +Razumov, protesting that he had no time, made an +attempt to get away. The other's tone changed +to confidential earnestness. + +"For God's sake, Kirylo, my dear soul, let me +make some sort of sacrifice. It would not be a +sacrifice really. I have my rich dad behind me. + There's positively no getting to the bottom of +his pocket." + +And rejecting indignantly Razumov's suggestion +that this was drunken raving, he offered to lend +him some money to escape abroad with. He could +always get money from his dad. He had only to +say that he had lost it at cards or something of +that sort, and at the same time promise solemnly +not to miss a single lecture for three months on +end. That would fetch the old man; and he, +Kostia, was quite equal to the sacrifice. +Though he really did not see what was the good +for him to attend the lectures. It was +perfectly hopeless. + +"Won't you let me be of some use?" he pleaded to +the silent Razumov, who with his eyes on the +ground and utterly unable to penetrate the real +drift of the other's intention, felt a strange +reluctance to clear up the point. + +"What makes you think I want to go abroad?" he +asked at last very quietly. + +Kostia lowered his voice. + +"You had the police in your rooms yesterday. +There are three or four of us who have heard of +that. Never mind how we know. It is sufficient +that we do. So we have been consulting +together." + +"Ah! You got to know that so soon," muttered +Razumov negligently. + +"Yes. We did. And it struck us that a man like +you. . . " + +"What sort of a man do you take me to be?" +Razumov interrupted him. + +"A man of ideas--and a man of action too. But +you are very deep, Kirylo. There's no getting +to the bottom of your mind. Not for fellows +like me. But we all agreed that you must be +preserved for our country. Of that we have no +doubt whatever--I mean all of us who have heard +Haldin speak of you on certain occasions. A man +doesn't get the police ransacking his rooms +without there being some devilry hanging over +his head. . . . And so if you think that it +would be better for you to bolt at once. . . ." + +Razumov tore himself away and walked down the +corridor, leaving the other motionless with his +mouth open. But almost at once he returned and +stood before the amazed Kostia, who shut his +mouth slowly. Razumov looked him straight in +the eyes, before saying with marked deliberation +and separating his words- + +"I thank--you--very--much." + +He went away again rapidly. Kostia, recovering +from his surprise at these manoeuvres, ran up +behind him pressingly. + +"No! Wait! Listen. I really mean it. It would +be like giving your compassion to a starving +fellow. Do you hear, Kirylo? And any disguise +you may think of, that too I could procure from +a costumier, a Jew I know. Let a fool be made +serviceable according to his folly. Perhaps +also a false beard or something of that kind may +be needed. + +"Razumov turned at bay. + +"There are no false beards needed in this +business, Kostia--you good-hearted lunatic, you. + What do you know of my ideas? My ideas may be +poison to you." The other began to shake his +head in energetic protest. + +"What have you got to do with ideas? Some of +them would make an end of your dad's money-bags. + Leave off meddling with what you don't +understand. Go back to your trotting horses and +your girls, and then you'll be sure at least of +doing no harm to anybody, and hardly any to +yourself." + +The enthusiastic youth was overcome by this +disdain. + +"You're sending me back to my pig's trough, +Kirylo. That settles it. I am an unlucky beast- +-and I shall die like a beast too. But mind-- +it's your contempt that has done for me." + +Razumov went off with long strides. That this +simple and grossly festive soul should have +fallen too under the revolutionary curse +affected him as an ominous symptom of the time. +He reproached himself for feeling troubled. +Personally he ought to have felt reassured. +There was an obvious advantage in this +conspiracy of mistaken judgment taking him for +what he was not. But was it not strange? + +Again he experienced that sensation of his +conduct being taken out of his hands by Haldin's +revolutionary tyranny. His solitary and +laborious existence had been destroyed--the only +thing he could call his own on this earth. By +what right? he asked himself furiously. In +what name? + +What infuriated him most was to feel that the +"thinkers" of the University were evidently +connecting him with Haldin--as a sort of +confidant in the background apparently. A +mysterious connexion! Ha ha!. . . He had been +made a personage without knowing anything about +it. How that wretch Haldin must have talked +about him! Yet it was likely that Haldin had +said very little. The fellow's casual +utterances were caught up and treasured and +pondered over by all these imbeciles. And was +not all secret revolutionary action based upon +folly, self-deception, and lies? + +"Impossible to think of anything else," muttered +Razumov to himself. "I'll become an idiot if +this goes on. The scoundrels and the fools are +murdering my intelligence." + +He lost all hope of saving his future, which +depended on the free use of his intelligence. + +He reached the doorway of his house in a state +of mental discouragement which enabled him to +receive with apparent indifference an official- +looking envelope from the dirty hand of the +dvornik. + +"A gendarme brought it," said the man. " He +asked if you were at home. I told him 'No, he's +not at home.' So he left it. 'Give it into his +own hands,' says he. Now you've got it--eh?" + +He went back to his sweeping, and Razumov +climbed his stairs, envelope in hand. Once in +his room he did not hasten to open it. Of +course this official missive was from the +superior direction of the police. A suspect! A +suspect! + +He stared in dreary astonishment at the +absurdity of his position. He thought with a +sort of dry, unemotional melancholy; three years +of good work gone, the course of forty more +perhaps jeopardized--turned from hope to terror, +because events started by human folly link +themselves into a sequence which no sagacity can +foresee and no courage can break through. +Fatality enters your rooms while your landlady's +back is turned; you come home and find it in +possession bearing a man's name, clothed in +flesh--wearing a brown cloth coat and long boots- +-lounging against the stove. It asks you, "Is +the outer door closed?"--and you don't know +enough to take it by the throat and fling it +downstairs. You don't know. You welcome the +crazy fate. "Sit down," you say. And it is all +over. You cannot shake it off any more. It +will cling to you for ever. Neither halter nor +bullet can give you back the freedom of your +life and the sanity of your thought. . . . It +was enough to dash one's head against a wall. + +Razumov looked slowly all round the walls as if +to select a spot to dash his head against. Then +he opened the letter. It directed the student +Kirylo Sidorovitch Razumov to present himself +without delay at the General Secretariat. + +Razumov had a vision of General T---'s goggle +eyes waiting for him--the embodied power of +autocracy, grotesque and terrible. He embodied +the whole power of autocracy because he was its +guardian. He was the incarnate suspicion, the +incarnate anger, the incarnate ruthlessness of a +political and social regime on its defence. He +loathed rebellion by instinct. And Razumov +reflected that the man was simply unable to +understand a reasonable adherence to the +doctrine of absolutism. + +"What can he want with me precisely--I wonder?" +he asked himself. + +As if that mental question had evoked the +familiar phantom, Haldin stood suddenly before +him in the room with an extraordinary +completeness of detail. Though the short winter +day had passed already into the sinister +twilight of a land buried in snow, Razumov saw +plainly the narrow leather strap round the +Tcherkess coat. The illusion of that hateful +presence was so perfect that he half expected it +to ask, "Is the outer door closed?" He looked at +it with hatred and contempt. Souls do not take +a shape of clothing. Moreover, Haldin could not +be dead yet. Razumov stepped forward menacingly; +the vision vanished--and turning short on his +heel he walked out of his room with infinite +disdain. + +But after going down the first flight of stairs +it occurred to him that perhaps the superior +authorities of police meant to confront him with +Haldin in the flesh. This thought struck him +like a bullet, and had he not clung with both +hands to the banister he would have rolled down +to the next landing most likely. His legs were +of no use for a considerable time. . . . But +why? For what conceivable reason? To what end? + +There could be no rational answer to these +questions; but Razumov remembered the promise +made by the General to Prince K---. His action +was to remain unknown. + +He got down to the bottom of the stairs, +lowering himself as it were from step to step, +by the banister. Under the gate he regained much +of his firmness of thought and limb. He went +out into the street without staggering visibly. +Every moment he felt steadier mentally. And yet +he was saying to himself that General T--- was +perfectly capable of shutting him up in the +fortress for an indefinite time. His +temperament fitted his remorseless task, and his +omnipotence made him inaccessible to reasonable +argument. + +But when Razumov arrived at the Secretariat he +discovered that he would have nothing to do with +General T---. It is evident from Mr. Razumov's +diary that this dreaded personality was to +remain in the background. A civilian of +superior rank received him in a private room +after a period of waiting in outer offices where +a lot of scribbling went on at many tables in a +heated and stuffy atmosphere. + +The clerk in uniform who conducted him said in +the corridor-- + +"You are going before Gregor Matvieitch Mikulin." + +There was nothing formidable about the man +bearing that name. His mild, expectant glance +was turned on the door already when Razumov +entered. At once, with the penholder he was +holding in his hand, he pointed to a deep sofa +between two windows. He followed Razumov with +his eyes while that last crossed the room and +sat down. The mild gaze rested on him, not +curious, not inquisitive--certainly not +suspicious--almost without expression. In its +passionless persistence there was something +resembling sympathy. + +Razumov, who had prepared his will and his +intelligence to encounter General T--- himself, +was profoundly troubled. All the moral bracing +up against the possible excesses of power and +passion went for nothing before this sallow man, +who wore a full unclipped beard. It was fair, +thin, and very fine. The light fell in coppery +gleams on the protuberances of a high, rugged +forehead. And the aspect of the broad, soft +physiognomy was so homely and rustic that the +careful middle parting of the hair seemed a +pretentious affectation. + +The diary of Mr. Razumov testifies to some +irritation on his part. I may remark here that +the diary proper consisting of the more or less +daily entries seems to have been begun on that +very evening after Mr. Razumov had returned home. + +Mr. Razumov, then, was irritated. His strung-up +individuality had gone to pieces within him very +suddenly. + +"I must be very prudent with him," he warned +himself in the silence during which they sat +gazing at each other. It lasted some little +time, and was characterized (for silences have +their character) by a sort of sadness imparted +to it perhaps by the mild and thoughtful manner +of the bearded official. Razumov learned later +that he was the chief of a department in the +General Secretariat, with a rank in the civil +service equivalent to that of a colonel in the +army. + +Razumov's mistrust became acute. The main point +was, not to be drawn into saying too much. He +had been called there for some reason. What +reason? To be given to understand that he was a +suspect--and also no doubt to be pumped. As to +what precisely? There was nothing. Or perhaps +Haldin had been telling lies. . . . Every +alarming uncertainty beset Razumov. He could +bear the silence no longer, and cursing himself +for his weakness spoke first, though he had +promised himself not to do so on any account. + +"I haven't lost a moment's time," he began in a +hoarse, provoking tone; and then the faculty of +speech seemed to leave him and enter the body of +Councillor Mikulin, who chimed in approvingly-- + +"Very proper. Very proper. Though as a matter +of fact. . . ." + +But the spell was broken, and Razumov +interrupted him boldly, under a sudden +conviction that this was the safest attitude to +take. With a great flow of words he complained +of being totally misunderstood. Even as he +talked with a perception of his own audacity he +thought that the word "misunderstood" was better +than the word "mistrusted," and he repeated it +again with insistence. Suddenly he ceased, +being seized with fright before the attentive +immobility of the official. "What am I talking +about?" he thought, eyeing him with a vague +gaze. Mistrusted--not misunderstood--was the +right symbol for these people. Misunderstood +was the other kind of curse. Both had been +brought on his head by that fellow Haldin. And +his head ached terribly. He passed his hand +over his brow--an involuntary gesture of +suffering, which he was too careless to +restrain. At that moment Razumov beheld his own +brain suffering on the rack--a long, pale figure +drawn asunder horizontally with terrific force +in the darkness of a vault, whose face he failed +to see. It was as though he had dreamed for an +infinitesimal fraction of time of some dark +print of the Inquisition. + +It is not to be seriously supposed that Razumov +had actually dozed off and had dreamed in the +presence of Councillor Mikulin, of an old print +of the Inquisition. He was indeed extremely +exhausted, and he records a remarkably dream- +like experience of anguish at the circumstance +that there was no one whatever near the pale and +extended figure. The solitude of the racked +victim was particularly horrible to behold. The +mysterious impossibility to see the face, he +also notes, inspired a sort of terror. All +these characteristics of an ugly dream were +present. Yet he is certain that he never lost +the consciousness of himself on the sofa, +leaning forward with his hands between his knees +and turning his cap round and round in his +fingers. But everything vanished at the voice +of Councillor Mikulin. Razumov felt profoundly +grateful for the even simplicity of its tone. + +"Yes. I have listened with interest. I +comprehend in a measure your. . . But, indeed, +you are mistaken in what you. . . . "Councillor +Mikulin uttered a series of broken sentences. +Instead of finishing them he glanced down his +beard. It was a deliberate curtailment which +somehow made the phrases more impressive. But +he could talk fluently enough, as became +apparent when changing his tone to +persuasiveness he went on: "By listening to you +as I did, I think I have proved that I do not +regard our intercourse as strictly official. In +fact, I don't want it to have that character at +all. . . . Oh yes! I admit that the request for +your presence here had an official form. But I +put it to you whether it was a form which would +have been used to secure the attendance of a. . +. ." + +"Suspect," exclaimed Razumov, looking straight +into the official's eyes. They were big with +heavy eyelids, and met his boldness with a dim, +steadfast gaze. "A suspect." The open +repetition of that word which had been haunting +all his waking hours gave Razumov a strange sort +of satisfaction. Councillor Mikulin shook his +head slightly. "Surely you do know that I've +had my rooms searched by the police?" + +"I was about to say a 'misunderstood person,' +when you interrupted me," insinuated quietly +Councillor Mikulin. + +Razumov smiled without bitterness. The renewed +sense of his intellectual superiority sustained +him in the hour of danger. He said a little +disdainfully-- + +"I know I am but a reed. But I beg you to allow +me the superiority of the thinking reed over the +unthinking forces that are about to crush him +out of existence. Practical thinking in the +last instance is but criticism. I may perhaps +be allowed to express my wonder at this action +of the police being delayed for two full days +during which, of course, I could have +annihilated everything compromising by burning +it--let us say--and getting rid of the very +ashes, for that matter." + +"You are angry," remarked the official, with an +unutterable simplicity of tone and manner. "Is +that reasonable? " + +Razumov felt himself colouring with annoyance. + +"I am reasonable. I am even--permit me to say-- +a thinker, though to be sure, this name nowadays +seems to be the monopoly of hawkers of +revolutionary wares, the slaves of some French +or German thought--devil knows what foreign +notions. But I am not an intellectual mongrel. +I think like a Russian. I think faithfully--and +I take the liberty to call myself a thinker. It +is not a forbidden word, as far as I know." + +" No. Why should it be a forbidden word?" +Councillor Mikulin turned in his seat with +crossed legs and resting his elbow on the table +propped his head on the knuckles of a half- +closed hand. Razumov noticed a thick forefinger +clasped by a massive gold band set with a blood- +red stone--a signet ring that, looking as if it +could weigh half a pound, was an appropriate +ornament for that ponderous man with the +accurate middle-parting of glossy hair above a +rugged Socratic forehead. + +"Could it be a wig?" Razumov detected himself +wondering with an unexpected detachment. His +self-confidence was much shaken. He resolved to +chatter no more. Reserve ! Reserve ! All he +had to do was to keep the Ziemianitch episode +secret with absolute determination, when the +questions came. Keep Ziemianitch strictly out +of all the answers. + +Councillor Mikulin looked at him dimly. +Razumov's self-confidence abandoned him +completely. It seemed impossible to keep +Ziemianitch out. Every question would lead to +that, because, of course, there was nothing +else. He made an effort to brace himself up. +It was a failure. But Councillor Mikulin was +surprisingly detached too. + +"Why should it be forbidden?" he repeated. "I +too consider myself a thinking man, I assure +you. The principal condition is to think +correctly. I admit it is difficult sometimes at +first for a young man abandoned to himself--with +his generous impulses undisciplined, so to speak- +-at the mercy of every wild wind that blows. +Religious belief, of course, is a great. . . ." + +Councillor Mikulin glanced down his beard, and +Razumov, whose tension was relaxed by that +unexpected and discursive turn, murmured with +gloomy discontent- + +"That man, Haldin, believed in God." + +"Ah! You are aware," breathed out Councillor +Mikulin, making the point softly, as if with +discretion, but making it nevertheless plainly +enough, as if he too were put off his guard by +Razumov's remark. The young man preserved an +impassive, moody countenance, though he +reproached himself bitterly for a pernicious +fool, to have given thus an utterly false +impression of intimacy. He kept his eyes on the +floor. "I must positively hold my tongue unless +I am obliged to speak," he admonished himself. +And at once against his will the question, +"Hadn't I better tell him everything?" +presented itself with such force that he had to +bite his lower lip. Councillor Mikulin could +not, however, have nourished any hope of +confession. He went on-- + +"You tell me more than his judges were able to +get out of him. He was judged by a commission +of three. He would tell them absolutely +nothing. I have the report of the +interrogatories here, by me. After every +question there stands "Refuses to answer-- +refuses to answer.' It's like that page after +page. You see, I have been entrusted with some +further investigations around and about this +affair. He has left me nothing to begin my +investigations on. A hardened miscreant. And +so, you say, he believed in. . . ." + +Again Councillor Mikulin glanced down his beard +with a faint grimace; but he did not pause for +long. Remarking with a shade of scorn that +blasphemers also had that sort of belief, he +concluded by supposing that Mr. Razumov had +conversed frequently with Haldin on the subject. + +"No," said Razumov loudly, without looking up. +"He talked and I listened. That is not a +conversation." + +"Listening is a great art," observed Mikulin +parenthetically. + +"And getting people to talk is another," mumbled +Razumov. + +"Well, no--that is not very difficult," Mikulin +said innocently, "except, of course, in special +cases. For instance, this Haldin. Nothing +could induce him to talk. He was brought four +times before the delegated judges. Four secret +interrogatories--and even during the last, when +your personality was put forward. . . ." + +"My personality put forward?" repeated Razumov, +raising his head brusquely. "I don't +understand." Councillor Mikulin turned squarely +to the table, and taking up some sheets of grey +foolscap dropped them one after another, +retaining only the last in his hand. He held it +before his eyes while speaking. + +"It was--you see--judged necessary. In a case +of that gravity no means of action upon the +culprit should be neglected. You understand +that yourself, I am certain." + +Razumov stared with enormous wide eyes at the +side view of Councillor Mikulin, who now was not +looking at him at all. + +"So it was decided (I was consulted by General T- +--) that a certain question should be put to the +accused. But in deference to the earnest wishes +of Prince K--- your name has been kept out of +the documents and even from the very knowledge +of the judges themselves. Prince K--- +recognized the propriety, the necessity of what +we proposed to do, but he was concerned for your +safety. Things do leak out--that we can't deny. + One cannot always answer for the discretion of +inferior officials. There was, of course, the +secretary of the special tribunal--one or two +gendarmes in the room. Moreover, as I have +said, in deference to Prince K--- even the +judges themselves were to be left in ignorance. +The question ready framed was sent to them by +General T--- (I wrote it out with my own hand) +with instructions to put it to the prisoner the +very last of all. Here it is." + +Councillor Mikulin threw back his head into +proper focus and went on reading monotonously: +"Question--Has the man well known to you, in +whose rooms you remained for several hours on +Monday and on whose information you have been +arrested--has he had any previous knowledge of +your intention to commit a political murder?. . +. Prisoner refuses to reply. + +"Question repeated. Prisoner preserves the same +stubborn silence. + +"The venerable Chaplain of the Fortress being +then admitted and exhorting the prisoner to +repentance, entreating him also to atone for his +crime by an unreserved and full confession which +should help to liberate from the sin of +rebellion against the Divine laws and the sacred +Majesty of the Ruler, our Christ-loving land-- +the prisoner opens his lips for the first time +during this morning's audience and in a loud, +clear voice rejects the venerable Chaplain's +ministrations. + +"At eleven o'clock the Court pronounces in +summary form the death sentence. + +"The execution is fixed for four o'clock in the +afternoon, subject to further instructions from +superior authorities." + +Councillor Mikulin dropped the page of foolscap, +glanced down his beard, and turning to Razumov, +added in an easy, explanatory tone-- + +"We saw no object in delaying the execution. +The order to carry out the sentence was sent by +telegraph at noon. I wrote out the telegram +myself. He was hanged at four o'clock this +afternoon." + +The definite information of Haldin's death gave +Razumov the feeling of general lassitude which +follows a great exertion or a great excitement. +He kept very still on the sofa, but a murmur +escaped him- + +"He had a belief in a future existence." + +Councillor Mikulin shrugged his shoulders +slightly, and Razumov got up with an effort. +There was nothing now to stay for in that room. +Haldin had been hanged at four o'clock. There +could be no doubt of that. He had, it seemed, +entered upon his future existence, long boots, +Astrakhan fur cap and all, down to the very +leather strap round his waist. A flickering, +vanishing sort of existence. It was not his +soul, it was his mere phantom he had left behind +on this earth--thought Razumov, smiling +caustically to himself while he crossed the +room, utterly forgetful of where he was and of +Councillor Mikulin's existence. The official +could have set a lot of bells ringing all over +the building without leaving his chair. He let +Razumov go quite up to the door before he spoke. + +"Come, Kirylo Sidorovitch--what are you doing?" + +Razumov turned his head and looked at him in +silence. He was not in the least disconcerted. +Councillor Mikulin's arms were stretched out on +the table before him and his body leaned forward +a little with an effort of his dim gaze. + +"Was I actually going to clear out like this?" +Razumov wondered at himself with an impassive +countenance. And he was aware of this +impassiveness concealing a lucid astonishment. + +"Evidently I was going out if he had not +spoken," he thought. "What would he have done +then? I must end this affair one way or +another. I must make him show his hand." + +For a moment longer he reflected behind the mask +as it were, then let go the door-handle and came +back to the middle of the room. + +"I'll tell you what you think," he said +explosively, but not raising his voice. "You +think that you are dealing with a secret +accomplice of that unhappy man. No, I do not +know that he was unhappy. He did not tell me. +He was a wretch from my point of view, because +to keep alive a false idea is a greater crime +than to kill a man. I suppose you will not deny +that? I hated him! Visionaries work +everlasting evil on earth. Their Utopias +inspire in the mass of mediocre minds a disgust +of reality and a contempt for the secular logic +of human development." + +Razumov shrugged his shoulders and stared. +"What a tirade!" he thought. The silence and +immobility of Councillor Mikulin impressed him. +The bearded bureaucrat sat at his post, +mysteriously self-possessed like an idol with +dim, unreadable eyes. Razumov's voice changed +involuntarily. + +"If you were to ask me where is the necessity of +my hate for such as Haldin, I would answer you-- +there is nothing sentimental in it. I did not +hate him because he had committed the crime of +murder. Abhorrence is not hate. I hated him +simply because I am sane. It is in that +character that he outraged me. His death. . ." + +Razumov felt his voice growing thick in his +throat. The dimness of Councillor Mikulin's +eyes seemed to spread all over his face and made +it indistinct to Razumov's sight. He tried to +disregard these phenomena. + +"Indeed," he pursued, pronouncing each word +carefully, "what is his death to me? If he were +lying here on the floor I could walk over his +breast. . . . The fellow is a mere phantom. . . +." + +Razumov's voice died out very much against his +will. Mikulin behind the table did not allow +himself the slightest movement. The silence +lasted for some little time before Razumov could +go on again. + +"He went about talking of me. Those +intellectual fellows sit in each other's rooms +and get drunk on foreign ideas in the same way +young Guards' officers treat each other with +foreign wines. Merest debauchery. . . . Upon +my Word,"--Razumov, enraged by a sudden +recollection of Ziemianitch, lowered his voice +forcibly,--"upon my word, we Russians are a +drunken lot. Intoxication of some sort we must +have: to get ourselves wild with sorrow or +maudlin with resignation; to lie inert like a +log or set fire to the house. What is a sober +man to do, I should like to know? To cut oneself +entirely from one's kind is impossible. To live +in a desert one must be a saint. But if a +drunken man runs out of the grog-shop, falls on +your neck and kisses you on both cheeks because +something about your appearance has taken his +fancy, what then--kindly tell me? You may break, +perhaps, a cudgel on his back and yet not +succeed in beating him off. . . ." + +Councillor Mikulin raised his hand and passed it +down his face deliberately. + +"That's. . . of course," he said in an undertone. + +The quiet gravity of that gesture made Razumov +pause. It was so unexpected, too. What did it +mean? It had an alarming aloofness. Razumov +remembered his intention of making him show his +hand. + +"I have said all this to Prince K---," he began +with assumed indifference, but lost it on seeing +Councillor Mikulin's slow nod of assent. "You +know it? You've heard. . . . Then why should I +be called here to be told of Haldin's execution? + Did you want to confront me with his silence +now that the man is dead? What is his silence +to me! This is incomprehensible. "You want in +some way to shake my moral balance." + +"No. Not that," murmured Councillor Mikulin, +just audibly. "The service you have rendered is +appreciated. . . ." + +"Is it?'' interrupted Razumov ironically. + +". . .and your position too." Councillor +Mikulin did not raise his voice. "But only +think! You fall into Prince K---'s study as if +from the sky with your startling information. . +. . You are studying yet, Mr. Razumov, but we +are serving already--don't forget that. . . . +And naturally some curiosity was bound to. . . ." + +Councillor Mikulin looked down his beard. +Razumov's lips trembled. + +"An occurrence of that sort marks a man," the +homely murmur went on. "I admit I was curious +to see you. General T--- thought it would be +useful, too. . . . Don't think I am incapable +of understanding your sentiments. When I was +young like you I studied. . . ." + +"Yes--you wished to see me," said Razumov in a +tone of profound distaste. "Naturally you have +the right--I mean the power. It all amounts to +the same thing. But it is perfectly useless, if +you were to look at me and listen to me for a +year. I begin to think there is something about +me which people don't seem able to make out. +It's unfortunate. I imagine, however, that +Prince K--- understands. He seemed to." + +Councillor Mikulin moved slightly and spoke. + +"Prince K--- is aware of everything that is +being done, and I don't mind informing you that +he approved my intention of becoming personally +acquainted with you." + +Razumov concealed an immense disappointment +under the accents of railing surprise. + +"So he is curious too!. . . Well--after all, +Prince K--- knows me very little. It is really +very unfortunate for me, but--it is not exactly +my fault." + +Councillor Mikulin raised a hasty deprecatory +hand and inclined his head slightly over his +shoulder. + +"Now, Mr. Razumov--is it necessary to take it in +that way? Everybody I am sure can. . . ." + +He glanced rapidly down his beard, and when he +looked up again there was for a moment an +interested expression in his misty gaze. +Razumov discouraged it with a cold, repellent +smile. + +"No. That's of no importance to be sure--except +that in respect of all this curiosity being +aroused by a very simple matter. . . . What is +to be done with it? It is unappeasable. I mean +to say there is nothing to appease it with. I +happen to have been born a Russian with +patriotic instincts--whether inherited or not I +am not in a position to say." + +Razumov spoke consciously with elaborate +steadiness. + +"Yes, patriotic instincts developed by a faculty +of independent thinking--of detached thinking. +In that respect I am more free than any social +democratic revolution could make me. It is more +than probable that I don't think exactly as you +are thinking. Indeed, how could it be? You +would think most likely at this moment that I am +elaborately lying to cover up the track of my +repentance." + +Razumov stopped. His heart had grown too big +for his breast. Councillor Mikulin did not +flinch. + +"Why so?" he said simply. "I assisted +personally at the search of your rooms. I +looked through all the papers myself. I have +been greatly impressed by a sort of political +confession of faith. A very remarkable +document. Now may I ask for what purpose. . . ." + +"To deceive the police naturally," said Razumov +savagely. . . . "What is all this mockery? Of +course you can send me straight from this room +to Siberia. That would be intelligible. To +what is intelligible I can submit. But I +protest against this comedy of persecution. The +whole affair is becoming too comical altogether +for my taste. A comedy of errors, phantoms, and +suspicions. It's positively indecent. . . ." + +Councillor Mikulin turned an attentive ear. +"Did you say phantoms?" he murmured. + +"I could walk over dozens of them." Razumov, +with an impatient wave of his hand, went on +headlong, "But, really, I must claim the right +to be done once for all with that man. And in +order to accomplish this I shall take the +liberty. . . ." + +Razumov on his side of the table bowed slightly +to the seated bureaucrat. + +". . . To retire--simply to retire," he finished +with great resolution. + +He walked to the door, thinking, "Now he must +show his hand. He must ring and have me +arrested before I am out of the building, or he +must let me go. And either way. . . ." + +An unhurried voice said-- + +"Kirylo Sidorovitch." Razumov at the door +turned his head. + +"To retire," he repeated. + +"Where to?" asked Councillor Mikulin softly. + + + +PART SECOND + + + +I + + +In the conduct of an invented story there are, +no doubt, certain proprieties to be observed for +the sake of clearness and effect. A man of +imagination, however inexperienced in the art of +narrative, has his instinct to guide him in the +choice of his words, and in the development of +the action. A grain of talent excuses many +mistakes. But this is not a work of +imagination; I have no talent; my excuse for +this undertaking lies not in its art, but in its +artlessness. Aware of my limitations and strong +in the sincerity of my purpose, I would not try +(were I able) to invent anything. I push my +scruples so far that I would not even invent a +transition. + +Dropping then Mr. Razumov's record at the point +where Councillor Mikulin's question "Where to?" +comes in with the force of an insoluble problem, +I shall simply say that I made the acquaintance +of these ladies about six months before that +time. By "these ladies" I mean, of course, the +mother and the sister of the unfortunate Haldin. + +By what arguments he had induced his mother to +sell their little property and go abroad for an +indefinite time, I cannot tell precisely. I +have an idea that Mrs. Haldin, at her son's +wish, would have set fire to her house and +emigrated to the moon without any sign of +surprise or apprehension; and that Miss Haldin-- +Nathalie, caressingly Natalka--would have given +her assent to the scheme. + +Their proud devotion to that young man became +clear to me in a very short time. Following his +directions they went straight to Switzerland--to +Zurich--where they remained the best part of a +year. From Zurich, which they did not like, +they came to Geneva. A friend of mine in +Lausanne, a lecturer in history at the +University (he had married a Russian lady, a +distant connection of Mrs. Haldin's), wrote to +me suggesting I should call on these ladies. It +was a very kindly meant business suggestion. +Miss Haldin wished to go through a course of +reading the best English authors with a +competent teacher. + +Mrs. Haldin received me very kindly. Her bad +French, of which she was smilingly conscious, +did away with the formality of the first +interview. She was a tall woman in a black silk +dress. A wide brow, regular features, and +delicately cut lips, testified to her past +beauty. She sat upright in an easy chair and in +a rather weak, gentle voice told me that her +Natalka simply thirsted after knowledge. Her +thin hands were lying on her lap, her facial +immobility had in it something monachal. "In +Russia," she went on, "all knowledge was tainted +with falsehood. Not chemistry and all that, but +education generally," she explained. The +Government corrupted the teaching for its own +purposes. Both her children felt that. Her +Natalka had obtained a diploma of a Superior +School for Women and her son was a student at +the St. Petersburg University. He had a +brilliant intellect, a most noble unselfish +nature, and he was the oracle of his comrades. +Early next year, she hoped he would join them +and they would then go to Italy together. In +any other country but their own she would have +been certain of a great future for a man with +the extraordinary abilities and the lofty +character of her son--but in Russia. . . . + +The young lady sitting by the window turned her +head and said-- + +"Come, mother. Even with us things change with +years." + +Her voice was deep, almost harsh, and yet +caressing in its harshness. She had a dark +complexion, with red lips and a full figure. +She gave the impression of strong vitality. The +old lady sighed. + +"You are both young--you two. It is easy for +you to hope. But I, too, am not hopeless. +Indeed, how could I be with a son like this." + +I addressed Miss Haldin, asking her what authors +she wished to read. She directed upon me her +grey eyes shaded by black eyelashes, and I +became aware, notwithstanding my years, how +attractive physically her personality could be +to a man capable of appreciating in a woman +something else than the mere grace of +femininity. Her glance was as direct and +trustful as that of a young man yet unspoiled by +the world's wise lessons. And it was intrepid, +but in this intrepidity there was nothing +aggressive. A naive yet thoughtful assurance is +a better definition. She had reflected already +(in Russia the young begin to think early), but +she had never known deception as yet because +obviously she had never yet fallen under the +sway of passion. She was--to look at her was +enough--very capable of being roused by an idea +or simply by a person. At least, so I judged +with I believe an unbiassed mind; for clearly my +person could not be the person--and as to my +ideas!. . . + +We became excellent friends in the course of our +reading. It was very pleasant. Without fear of +provoking a smile, I shall confess that I became +very much attached to that young girl. At the +end of four months I told her that now she could +very well go on reading English by herself. It +was time for the teacher to depart. My pupil +looked unpleasantly surprised. + +Mrs. Haldin, with her immobility of feature and +kindly expression of the eyes, uttered from her +armchair in her uncertain French, "_Mais l'ami +reviendra._" And so it was settled. I returned- +-not four times a week as before, but pretty +frequently. In the autumn we made some short +excursions together in company with other +Russians. My friendship with these ladies gave +me a standing in the Russian colony which +otherwise I could not have had. + +The day I saw in the papers the news of Mr. de P- +--'s assassination--it was a Sunday--I met the +two ladies in the street and walked with them +for some distance. Mrs. Haldin wore a heavy +grey cloak, I remember, over her black silk +dress, and her fine eyes met mine with a very +quiet expression. + +"We have been to the late service," she said. +"Natalka came with me. Her girl-friends, the +students here, of course don't. . . . With us +in Russia the church is so identified with +oppression, that it seems almost necessary when +one wishes to be free in this life, to give up +all hope of a future existence. But I cannot +give up praying for my son." + +She added with a sort of stony grimness, +colouring slightly, and in French, "_Ce n'est +peut etre qu'une habitude._" ("It may be only +habit.") + +Miss Haldin was carrying the prayer-book. She +did not glance at her mother. + +"You and Victor are both profound believers," +she said. + +I communicated to them the news from their +country which I had just read in a cafe. For a +whole minute we walked together fairly briskly +in silence. Then Mrs. Haldin murmured-- + +"There will be more trouble, more persecutions +for this. They may be even closing the +University. There is neither peace nor rest in +Russia for one but in the grave. + +"Yes. The way is hard," came from the daughter, +looking straight before her at the Chain of Jura +covered with snow, like a white wall closing the +end of the street. "But concord is not so very +far off." + +"That is what my children think," observed Mrs. +Haldin to me. + +I did not conceal my feeling that these were +strange times to talk of concord. Nathalie +Haldin surprised me by saying, as if she had +thought very much on the subject, that the +occidentals did not understand the situation. +She was very calm and youthfully superior. + +"You think it is a class conflict, or a conflict +of interests, as social contests are with you in +Europe. But it is not that at all. It is +something quite different." + +"It is quite possible that I don't understand," +I admitted. + +That propensity of lifting every problem from +the plane of the understandable by means of some +sort of mystic expression, is very Russian. I +knew her well enough to have discovered her +scorn for all the practical forms of political +liberty known to the western world. I suppose +one must be a Russian to understand Russian +simplicity, a terrible corroding simplicity in +which mystic phrases clothe a naive and hopeless +cynicism. I think sometimes that the +psychological secret of the profound difference +of that people consists in this, that they +detest life, the irremediable life of the earth +as it is, whereas we westerners cherish it with +perhaps an equal exaggeration of its sentimental +value. But this is a digression indeed. . . . + +I helped these ladies into the tramcar and they +asked me to call in the afternoon. At least +Mrs. Haldin asked me as she climbed up, and her +Natalka smiled down at the dense westerner +indulgently from the rear platform of the moving +car. The light of the clear wintry forenoon was +softened in her grey eyes. + +Mr. Razumov's record, like the open book of +fate, revives for me the memory of that day as +something startlingly pitiless in its freedom +from all forebodings. Victor Haldin was still +with the living, but with the living whose only +contact with life is the expectation of death. +He must have been already referring to the last +of his earthly affections, the hours of that +obstinate silence, which for him was to be +prolonged into eternity. That afternoon the +ladies entertained a good many of their +compatriots--more than was usual for them to +receive at one time; and the drawing-room on the +ground floor of a large house on the Boulevard +des Philosophes was very much crowded. + +I outstayed everybody; and when I rose Miss +Haldin stood up too. I took her hand and was +moved to revert to that morning's conversation +in the street. + +"Admitting that we occidentals do not understand +the character of your. . . ." I began. + +It was as if she had been prepared for me by +some mysterious fore-knowledge. She checked me +gently-- + +"Their impulses--their. . . " she sought the +proper expression and found it, but in French. . +." their _mouvements d'ame._" + +Her voice was not much above a whisper. + +"Very well," I said. " But still we are looking +at a conflict. You say it is not a conflict of +classes and not a conflict of interests. +Suppose I admitted that. Are antagonistic ideas +then to be reconciled more easily--can they be +cemented with blood and violence into that +concord which you proclaim to be so near?" + +She looked at me searchingly with her clear grey +eyes, without answering my reasonable question-- +my obvious, my unanswerable question. + +"It is inconceivable," I added, with something +like annoyance. + +"Everything is inconceivable," she said. "The +whole world is inconceivable to the strict logic +of ideas. And yet the world exists to our +senses, and we exist in it. There must be a +necessity superior to our conceptions. It is a +very miserable and a very false thing to belong +to the majority. We Russians shall find some +better form of national freedom than an +artificial conflict of parties--which is wrong +because it is a conflict and contemptible +because it is artificial. It is left for us +Russians to discover a better way." + +Mrs. Haldin had been looking out of the window. +She turned upon me the almost lifeless beauty of +her face, and the living benign glance of her +big dark eyes. + +"That's what my children think," she declared. + +"I suppose," I addressed Miss Haldin, "that you +will be shocked if I tell you that I haven't +understood--I won't say a single word; I've +understood all the words. . . . But what can be +this era of disembodied concord you are looking +forward to. Life is a thing of form. It has +its plastic shape and a definite intellectual +aspect. The most idealistic conceptions of love +and forbearance must be clothed in flesh as it +were before they can be made understandable." + +I took my leave of Mrs. Haldin, whose beautiful +lips never stirred. She smiled with her eyes +only. Nathalie Haldin went with me as far as +the door, very amiable. + +"Mother imagines that I am the slavish echo of +my brother Victor. It is not so. He +understands me better than I can understand him. + When he joins us and you come to know him you +will see what an exceptional soul it is." She +paused. "He is not a strong man in the +conventional sense, you know," she added. "But +his character is without a flaw" + +"I believe that it will not be difficult for me +to make friends with your brother Victor." + +"Don't expect to understand him quite," she +said, a little maliciously. "He is not at all-- +at all--western at bottom." + +And on this unnecessary warning I left the room +with another bow in the doorway to Mrs. Haldin +in her armchair by the window. The shadow of +autocracy all unperceived by me had already +fallen upon the Boulevard des Philosophes, in +the free, independent and democratic city of +Geneva, where there is a quarter called "La +Petite Russie." Whenever two Russians come +together, the shadow of autocracy is with them, +tinging their thoughts, their views, their most +intimate feelings, their private life, their +public utterances--haunting the secret of their +silences. + +What struck me next in the course of a week or +so was the silence of these ladies. I used to +meet them walking in the public garden near the +University. They greeted me with their usual +friendliness, but I could not help noticing +their taciturnity. By that time it was +generally known that the assassin of M. de P--- +had been caught, judged, and executed. So much +had been declared officially to the news +agencies. But for the world at large he +remained anonymous. The official secrecy had +withheld his name from the public. I really +cannot imagine for what reason. + +One day I saw Miss Haldin walking alone in the +main valley of the Bastions under the naked +trees. + +"Mother is not very well," she explained. + +As Mrs.Haldin had, it seemed, never had a day's +illness in her life, this indisposition was +disquieting. It was nothing definite, too. + +"I think she is fretting because we have not +heard from my brother for rather a long time." + +"No news--good news," I said cheerfully, and we +began to walk slowly side by side. + +"Not in Russia," she breathed out so low that I +only just caught the words. I looked at her +with more attention. + +"You too are anxious? " + +She admitted after a moment of hesitation that +she was. + +"It is really such a long time since we heard. . +. ." + +And before I could offer the usual banal +suggestions she confided in me. + +"Oh! But it is much worse than that. I wrote +to a family we know in Petersburg. They had not +seen him for more than a month. They thought he +was already with us. They were even offended a +little that he should have left Petersburg +without calling on them. The husband of the +lady went at once to his lodgings. Victor had +left there and they did not know his address." + +I remember her catching her breath rather +pitifully. Her brother had not been seen at +lectures for a very long time either. He only +turned up now and then at the University gate to +ask the porter for his letters. And the +gentleman friend was told that the student +Haldin did not come to claim the last two +letters for him. But the police came to inquire +if the student Haldin ever received any +correspondence at the University and took them +away. + +"My two last letters," she said. + +We faced each other. A few snow-flakes +fluttered under the naked boughs. The sky was +dark. + +"What do you think could have happened?" I +asked. + +Her shoulders moved slightly. + +"One can never tell--in Russia." + +I saw then the shadow of autocracy lying upon +Russian lives in their submission or their +revolt. I saw it touch her handsome open face +nestled in a fur collar and darken her clear +eyes that shone upon me brilliantly grey in the +murky light of a beclouded, inclement afternoon. + +"Let us move on," she said." It is cold +standing--to-day." + +She shuddered a little and stamped her little +feet. We moved briskly to the end of the alley +and back to the great gates of the garden. + +"Have you told your mother? " I ventured to ask. + +"No. Not yet. I came out to walk off the +impression of this letter." + +I heard a rustle of paper somewhere. It came +from her muff. She had the letter with her in +there. + +"What is it that you are afraid of?" I asked. + +To us Europeans of the West, all ideas of +political plots and conspiracies seem childish, +crude inventions for the theatre or a novel. I +did not like to be more definite in my inquiry. + +"For us--for my mother specially, what I am +afraid of is incertitude. People do disappear. +Yes, they do disappear. I leave you to imagine +what it is--the cruelty of the dumb weeks-- +months--years! This friend of ours has +abandoned his inquiries when he heard of the +police getting hold of the letters. I suppose +he was afraid of compromising himself. He has a +wife and children--and why should he, after all. +. . . Moreover, he is without influential +connections and not rich. What could he do?. . +. Yes, I am afraid of silence--for my poor +mother. She won't be able to bear it. For my +brother I am afraid of. . ." she became almost +indistinct, "of anything." + +We were now near the gate opposite the theatre. +She raised her voice. + +"But lost people do turn up even in Russia. Do +you know what my last hope is? Perhaps the next +thing we know, we shall see him walking into our +rooms." + +I raised my hat and she passed out of the +gardens, graceful and strong, after a slight +movement of the head to me, her hands in the +muff, crumpling the cruel Petersburg letter. + +On returning home I opened the newspaper I +receive from London, and glancing down the +correspondence from Russia--not the telegrams +but the correspondence--the first thing that +caught my eye was the name of Haldin. Mr. de P-- +-'s death was no longer an actuality, but the +enterprising correspondent was proud of having +ferreted out some unofficial information about +that fact of modern history. He had got hold of +Haldin's name, and had picked up the story of +the midnight arrest in the street. But the +sensation from a journalistic point of view was +already well in the past. He did not allot to +it more than twenty lines out of a full column. +It was quite enough to give me a sleepless +night. I perceived that it would have been a +sort of treason to let Miss Haldin come without +preparation upon that journalistic discovery +which would infallibly be reproduced on the +morrow by French and Swiss newspapers. I had a +very bad time of it till the morning, wakeful +with nervous worry and night-marish with the +feeling of being mixed up with something +theatrical and morbidly affected. The +incongruity of such a complication in those two +women's lives was sensible to me all night in +the form of absolute anguish. It seemed due to +their refined simplicity that it should remain +concealed from them for ever. Arriving at an +unconscionably early hour at the door of their +apartment, I felt as if I were about to commit +an act of vandalism. . . . + +The middle-aged servant woman led me into the +drawing-room where there was a duster on a chair +and a broom leaning against the centre table. +The motes danced in the sunshine; I regretted I +had not written a letter instead of coming +myself, and was thankful for the brightness of +the day. Miss Haldin in a plain black dress +came lightly out of her mother's room with a +fixed uncertain smile on her lips. + +I pulled the paper out of my pocket. I did not +imagine that a number of the _Standard_ could +have the effect of Medusa's head. Her face went +stony in a moment--her eyes--her limbs. The +most terrible thing was that being stony she +remained alive. One was conscious of her +palpitating heart. I hope she forgave me the +delay of my clumsy circumlocution. It was not +very prolonged; she could not have kept so still +from head to foot for more than a second or two; +and then I heard her draw a breath. As if the +shock had paralysed her moral resistance, and +affected the firmness of her muscles, the +contours of her face seemed to have given way. +She was frightfully altered. She looked aged-- +ruined. But only for a moment. She said with +decision-- + +"I am going to tell my mother at once." + +"Would that be safe in her state?" I objected. + +"What can be worse than the state she has been +in for the last month? We understand this in +another way. The crime is not at his door. +Don't imagine I am defending him before you." + +She went to the bedroom door, then came back to +ask me in a low murmur not to go till she +returned. For twenty interminable minutes not a +sound reached me. At last Miss Haldin came out +and walked across the room with her quick light +step. When she reached the armchair she dropped +into it heavily as if completely exhausted. + +Mrs. Haldin, she told me, had not shed a tear. +She was sitting up in bed, and her immobility, +her silence, were very alarming. At last she +lay down gently and had motioned her daughter +away. + +"She will call me in presently," added Miss +Haldin. "I left a bell near the bed." + +I confess that my very real sympathy had no +standpoint. The Western readers for whom this +story is written will understand what I mean. +It was, if I may say so, the want of experience. + Death is a remorseless spoliator. The anguish +of irreparable loss is familiar to us all. +There is no life so lonely as to be safe against +that experience. But the grief I had brought to +these two ladies had gruesome associations. It +had the associations of bombs and gallows--a +lurid, Russian colouring which made the +complexion of my sympathy uncertain. + +I was grateful to Miss Haldin for not +embarrassing me by an outward display of deep +feeling. I admired her for that wonderful +command over herself, even while I was a little +frightened at it. It was the stillness of a +great tension. What if it should suddenly snap? + Even the door of Mrs. Haldin's room, with the +old mother alone in there, had a rather awful +aspect. + +Nathalie Haldin murmured sadly-- + +"I suppose you are wondering what my feelings +are?" + +Essentially that was true. It was that very +wonder which unsettled my sympathy of a dense +Occidental. I could get hold of nothing but of +some commonplace phrases, those futile phrases +that give the measure of our impotence before +each other's trials I mumbled something to the +effect that, for the young, life held its hopes +and compensations. It held duties too--but of +that I was certain it was not necessary to +remind her. + +She had a handkerchief in her hands and pulled +at it nervously. + +"I am not likely to forget my mother," she said. + "We used to be three. Now we are two--two +women. She's not so very old. She may live +quite a long time yet. What have we to look for +in the future ? For what hope and what +consolation?" + +"You must take a wider view," I said resolutely, +thinking that with this exceptional creature +this was the right note to strike. She looked +at me steadily for a moment, and then the tears +she had been keeping down flowed unrestrained. +She jumped up and stood in the window with her +back to me. + +I slipped away without attempting even to +approach her. Next day I was told at the door +that Mrs. Haldin was better. The middle-aged +servant remarked that a lot of people--Russians-- +had called that day, but Miss Haldin bad not +seen anybody. A fortnight later, when making my +daily call, I was asked in and found Mrs. Haldin +sitting in her usual place by the window. + +At first one would have thought that nothing was +changed. I saw across the room the familiar +profile, a little sharper in outline and +overspread by a uniform pallor as might have +been expected in an invalid. But no disease +could have accounted for the change in her black +eyes, smiling no longer with gentle irony. She +raised them as she gave me her hand. I observed +the three weeks' old number of the _Standard_ +folded with the correspondence from Russia +uppermost, lying on a little table by the side +of the armchair. Mrs. Haldin's voice was +startlingly weak and colourless. Her first +words to me framed a question. + +"Has there been anything more in papers?" + +I released her long emaciated hand, shook my +head negatively, and sat down. + +"The English press is wonderful. Nothing can be +kept secret from it, and all the world must +hear. Only our Russian news is not always easy +to understand. Not always easy. . . . But +English mothers do not look for news like that. +. . ." + +She laid her hand on the newspaper and took it +away again. I said-- + +"We too have had tragic times in our history." + +"A long time ago. A very long time ago." + +"Yes." + +"There are nations that have made their bargain +with fate," said Miss Haldin, who had approached +us. "We need not envy them." + +"Why this scorn?" I asked gently. "It may be +that our bargain was not a very lofty one. But +the terms men and nations obtain from Fate are +hallowed by the price." + +Mrs. Haldin turned her head away and looked out +of the window for a time, with that new, sombre, +extinct gaze of her sunken eyes which so +completely made another woman of her. + +"That Englishman, this correspondent," she +addressed me suddenly, "do you think it is +possible that he knew my son?" + +To this strange question I could only say that +it was possible of course. She saw my surprise. + +"If one knew what sort of man he was one could +perhaps write to him," she murmured. + +"Mother thinks," explained Miss Haldin, standing +between us, with one hand resting on the back of +my chair, "that my poor brother perhaps did not +try to save himself." + +I looked up at Miss Haldin in sympathetic +consternation, but Miss Haldin was looking down +calmly at her mother. The latter said-- + +"We do not know the address of any of his +friends. Indeed, we know nothing of his +Petersburg comrades. He had a multitude of +young friends, only he never spoke much of them. + One could guess that they were his disciples +and that they idolized him. But he was so +modest. One would think that with so many +devoted. . . ." + +She averted her head again and looked down the +Boulevard des Philosophes, a singularly arid and +dusty thoroughfare, where nothing could be seen +at the moment but two dogs, a little girl in a +pinafore hopping on one leg, and in the distance +a workman wheeling a bicycle. + +"Even amongst the Apostles of Christ there was +found a Judas," she whispered as if to herself, +but with the evident intention to be heard by me. + +The Russian visitors assembled in little knots, +conversed amongst themselves meantime, in low +murmurs, and with brief glances in our +direction. It was a great contrast to the usual +loud volubility of these gatherings. Miss +Haldin followed me into the ante-room. + +"People will come," she said. "We cannot shut +the door in their faces." + +While I was putting on my overcoat she began to +talk to me of her mother. Poor Mrs. Haldin was +fretting after more news. She wanted to go on +hearing about her unfortunate son. She could +not make up her mind to abandon him quietly to +the dumb unknown. She would persist in pursuing +him in there through the long days of motionless +silence face to face with the empty Boulevard +des Philosophes. She could not understand why +he had not escaped--as so many other +revolutionists and conspirators had managed to +escape in other instances of that kind. It was +really inconceivable that the means of secret +revolutionary organisations should have failed +so inexcusably to preserve her son. But in +reality the inconceivable that staggered her +mind was nothing but the cruel audacity of Death +passing over her head to strike at that young +and precious heart. + +Miss Haldin mechanically, with an absorbed look, +handed me my hat. I understood from her that +the poor woman was possessed by the sombre and +simple idea that her son must have perished +because he did not want to be saved. It could +not have been that he despaired of his country's +future. That was impossible. Was it possible +that his mother and sister had not known how to +merit his confidence; and that, after having +done what he was compelled to do, his spirit +became crushed by an intolerable doubt, his mind +distracted by a sudden mistrust. + +I was very much shocked by this piece of +ingenuity. + +"Our three lives were like that!" Miss Haldin +twined the fingers of both her hands together in +demonstration, then separated them slowly, +looking straight into my face. "That's what +poor mother found to torment herself and me +with, for all the years to come," added the +strange girl. At that moment her indefinable +charm was revealed to me in the conjunction of +passion and stoicism. I imagined what her life +was likely to be by the side of Mrs. Haldin's +terrible immobility, inhabited by that fixed +idea. But my concern was reduced to silence by +my ignorance of her modes of feeling. +Difference of nationality is a terrible obstacle +for our complex Western natures. But Miss +Haldin probably was too simple to suspect my +embarrassment. She did not wait for me to say +anything, but as if reading my thoughts on my +face she went on courageously-- + +"At first poor mother went numb, as our peasants +say; then she began to think and she will go on +now thinking and thinking in that unfortunate +strain. You see yourself how cruel that is. . . +." + +I never spoke with greater sincerity than when I +agreed with her that it would be deplorable in +the highest degree. She took an anxious breath. + +"But all these strange details in the English +paper," she exclaimed suddenly. "What is the +meaning of them? I suppose they are true? But +is it not terrible that my poor brother should +be caught wandering alone, as if in despair, +about the streets at night. . . ." + +We stood so close to each other in the dark +anteroom that I could see her biting her lower +lip to suppress a dry sob. After a short pause +she said-- + +"I suggested to mother that he may have been +betrayed by some false friend or simply by some +cowardly creature. It may be easier for her to +believe that." + +I understood now the poor woman's whispered +allusion to Judas. + +"It may be easier," I admitted, admiring +inwardly the directness and the subtlety of the +girl's outlook. She was dealing with life as it +was made for her by the political conditions of +her country. She faced cruel realities, not +morbid imaginings of her own making. I could +not defend myself from a certain feeling of +respect when she added simply-- + +"Time they say can soften every sort of +bitterness. But I cannot believe that it has +any power over remorse. It is better that +mother should think some person guilty of +Victor's death, than that she should connect it +with a weakness of her son or a shortcoming of +her own." + +"But you, yourself, don't suppose that. . . ." +I began. + +She compressed her lips and shook her head. She +harboured no evil thoughts against any one, she +declared--and perhaps nothing that happened was +unnecessary. On these words, pronounced low and +sounding mysterious in the half obscurity of the +ante-room, we parted with an expressive and warm +handshake. The grip of her strong, shapely hand +had a seductive frankness, a sort of exquisite +virility. I do not know why she should have +felt so friendly to me. It may be that she +thought I understood her much better than I was +able to do. The most precise of her sayings +seemed always to me to have enigmatical +prolongations vanishing somewhere beyond my +reach. I am reduced to suppose that she +appreciated my attention and my silence. The +attention she could see was quite sincere, so +that the silence could not be suspected of +coldness. It seemed to satisfy her. And it is +to be noted that if she confided in me it was +clearly not with the expectation of receiving +advice, for which, indeed she never asked. + + +II + + +Our daily relations were interrupted at this +period for something like a fortnight. I had to +absent myself unexpectedly from Geneva. On my +return I lost no time in directing my steps up +the Boulevard des Philosophes. + +Through the open door of the drawing-room I was +annoyed to hear a visitor holding forth steadily +in an unctuous deep voice. + +Mrs. Haldin's armchair by the window stood +empty. On the sofa, Nathalie Haldin raised her +charming grey eyes in a glance of greeting +accompanied by the merest hint of a welcoming +smile. But she made no movement. With her +strong white hands lying inverted in the lap of +her mourning dress she faced a man who presented +to me a robust back covered with black +broadcloth, and well in keeping with the deep +voice. He turned his head sharply over his +shoulder, but only for a moment. + +"Ah! your English friend. I know. I know. +That's nothing." + +He wore spectacles with smoked glasses, a tall +silk hat stood on the floor by the side of his +chair. Flourishing slightly a big soft hand he +went on with his discourse, precipitating his +delivery a little more. + +"I have never changed the faith I held while +wandering in the forests and bogs of Siberia. +It sustained me then--it sustains me now. The +great Powers of Europe are bound to disappear-- +and the cause of their collapse will be very +simple. They will exhaust themselves struggling +against their proletariat. In Russia it is +different. In Russia we have no classes to +combat each other, one holding the power of +wealth, and the other mighty with the strength +of numbers. We have only an unclean bureaucracy +in the face of a people as great and as +incorruptible as the ocean. No, we have no +classes. But we have the Russian woman. The +admirable Russian woman! I receive most +remarkable letters signed by women. So elevated +in tone, so courageous, breathing such a noble +ardour of service! The greatest part of our +hopes rests on women. I behold their thirst for +knowledge. It is admirable. Look how they +absorb, how they are making it their own. It is +miraculous. But what is knowledge? . . . I +understand that you have not been studying +anything especially--medicine for instance. No? + That's right. Had I been honoured by being +asked to advise you on the use of your time when +you arrived here I would have been strongly +opposed to such a course. Knowledge in itself +is mere dross." + +He had one of those bearded Russian faces +without shape, a mere appearance of flesh and +hair with not a single feature having any sort +of character. His eyes being hidden by the dark +glasses there was an utter absence of all +expression. I knew him by sight. He was a +Russian refugee of mark. All Geneva knew his +burly black-coated figure. At one time all +Europe was aware of the story of his life +written by himself and translated into seven or +more languages. In his youth he had led an +idle, dissolute life. Then a society girl he +was about to marry died suddenly and thereupon +he abandoned the world of fashion, and began to +conspire in a spirit of repentance, and, after +that, his native autocracy took good care that +the usual things should happen to him. He was +imprisoned in fortresses, beaten within an inch +of his life, and condemned to work in mines, +with common criminals. The great success of his +book, however, was the chain. + +I do not remember now the details of the weight +and length of the fetters riveted on his limbs +by an "Administrative" order, but it was in the +number of pounds and the thickness of links an +appalling assertion of the divine right of +autocracy. Appalling and futile too, because +this big man managed to carry off that simple +engine of government with him into the woods. +The sensational clink of these fetters is heard +all through the chapters describing his escape-- +a subject of wonder to two continents. He had +begun by concealing himself successfully from +his guard in a hole on a river bank. It was the +end of the day; with infinite labour he managed +to free one of his legs. Meantime night fell. +He was going to begin on his other leg when he +was overtaken by a terrible misfortune. He +dropped his file. + +All this is precise yet symbolic; and the file +had its pathetic history. It was given to him +unexpectedly one evening, by a quiet, pale-faced +girl. The poor creature had come out to the +mines to join one of his fellow convicts, a +delicate young man, a mechanic and a social +democrat, with broad cheekbones and large +staring eyes. She had worked her way across +half Russia and nearly the whole of Siberia to +be near him, and, as it seems, with the hope of +helping him to escape. But she arrived too +late. Her lover had died only a week before. + +Through that obscure episode, as he says, in the +history of ideas in Russia, the file came into +his hands, and inspired him with an ardent +resolution to regain his liberty. When it +slipped through his fingers it was as if it had +gone straight into the earth. He could by no +manner of means put his hand on it again in the +dark. He groped systematically in the loose +earth, in the mud, in the water; the night was +passing meantime, the precious night on which he +counted to get away into the forests, his only +chance of escape. For a moment he was tempted +by despair to give up; but recalling the quiet, +sad face of the heroic girl, he felt profoundly +ashamed of his weakness. She had selected him +for the gift of liberty and he must show himself +worthy of the favour conferred by her feminine, +indomitable soul. It appeared to be a sacred +trust. To fail would have been a sort of +treason against the sacredness of self-sacrifice +and womanly love. + +There are in his book whole pages of self- +analysis whence emerges like a white figure from +a dark confused sea the conviction of woman's +spiritual superiority--his new faith confessed +since in several volumes. His first tribute to +it, the great act of his conversion, was his +extraordinary existence in the endless forests +of the Okhotsk Province, with the loose end of +the chain wound about his waist. A strip torn +off his convict shirt secured the end firmly. +Other strips fastened it at intervals up his +left leg to deaden the clanking and to prevent +the slack links from getting hooked in the +bushes. He became very fierce. He developed an +unsuspected genius for the arts of a wild and +hunted existence. He learned to creep into +villages without betraying his presence by +anything more than an occasional faint jingle. +He broke into outhouses with an axe he managed +to purloin in a wood-cutters' camp. In the +deserted tracts of country he lived on wild +berries and hunted for honey. His clothing +dropped off him gradually. His naked tawny +figure glimpsed vaguely through the bushes with +a cloud of mosquitoes and flies hovering about +the shaggy head, spread tales of terror through +whole districts. His temper grew savage as the +days went by, and he was glad to discover that +that there was so much of a brute in him. He +had nothing else to put his trust in. For it +was as though there had been two human beings +indissolubly joined in that enterprise. The +civilized man, the enthusiast of advanced +humanitarian ideals thirsting for the triumph of +spiritual love and political liberty; and the +stealthy, primeval savage, pitilessly cunning in +the preservation of his freedom from day to day, +like a tracked wild beast. + +The wild beast was making its way instinctively +eastward to the Pacific coast, and the civilised +humanitarian in fearful anxious dependence +watched the proceedings with awe. Through all +these weeks he could never make up his mind to +appeal to human compassion. In the wary +primeval savage this shyness might have been +natural, but the other too, the civilized +creature, the thinker, the escaping "political" +had developed an absurd form of morbid +pessimism, a form of temporary insanity, +originating perhaps in the physical worry and +discomfort of the chain. These links, he +fancied, made him odious to the rest of mankind. + It was a repugnant and suggestive load. Nobody +could feel any pity at the disgusting sight of a +man escaping with a broken chain. His +imagination became affected by his fetters in a +precise, matter-of-fact manner. It seemed to +him impossible that people could resist the +temptation of fastening the loose end to a +staple in the wall while they went for the +nearest police official. Crouching in holes or +hidden in thickets, he had tried to read the +faces of unsuspecting free settlers working in +the clearings or passing along the paths within +a foot or two of his eyes. His feeling was that +no man on earth could be trusted with the +temptation of the chain. + +One day, however, he chanced to come upon a +solitary woman. It was on an open slope of +rough grass outside the forest. She sat on the +bank of a narrow stream; she had a red +handkerchief on her head and a small basket was +lying on the ground near her hand. At a little +distance could be seen a cluster of log cabins, +with a water-mill over a dammed pool shaded by +birch trees and looking bright as glass in the +twilight. He approached her silently, his +hatchet stuck in his iron belt, a thick cudgel +in his hand; there were leaves and bits of twig +in his tangled hair, in his matted beard; +bunches of rags he had wound round the links +fluttered from his waist. A faint clink of his +fetters made the woman turn her head. Too +terrified by this savage apparition to jump up +or even to scream, she was yet too stout-hearted +to faint. . . . Expecting nothing less than to +be murdered on the spot she covered her eyes +with her hands to avoid the sight of the +descending axe. When at last she found courage +to look again, she saw the shaggy wild man +sitting on the bank six feet away from her. His +thin, sinewy arms hugged his naked legs; the +long beard covered the knees on which he rested +his chin; all these clasped, folded limbs, the +bare shoulders, the wild head with red staring +eyes, shook and trembled violently while the +bestial creature was making efforts to speak. +It was six weeks since he had heard the sound of +his own voice. It seemed as though he had lost +the faculty of speech. He had become a dumb and +despairing brute, till the woman's sudden, +unexpected cry of profound pity, the insight of +her feminine compassion discovering the complex +misery of the man under the terrifying aspect of +the monster, restored him to the ranks of +humanity. This point of view is presented in +his book, with a very effective eloquence. She +ended, he says, by shedding tears over him, +sacred, redeeming tears, while he also wept with +joy in the manner of a converted sinner. +Directing him to hide in the bushes and wait +patiently (a police patrol was expected in the +Settlement) she went away towards the houses, +promising to return at night. + +As if providentially appointed to be the newly +wedded wife of the village blacksmith, the woman +persuaded her husband to come out with her, +bringing some tools of his trade, a hammer, a +chisel, a small anvil. . . . "My fetters"--the +book says--" were struck off on the banks of the +stream, in the starlight of a calm night by an +athletic, taciturn young man of the people, +kneeling at my feet, while the woman like a +liberating genius stood by with clasped hands." +Obviously a symbolic couple. At the same time +they furnished his regained humanity with some +decent clothing, and put heart into the new man +by the information that the seacoast of the +Pacific was only a very few miles away. It +could be seen, in fact, from the top of the next +ridge. . . . + +The rest of his escape does not lend itself to +mystic treatment and symbolic interpretation. +He ended by finding his way to the West by the +Suez Canal route in the usual manner. Reaching +the shores of South Europe he sat down to write +his autobiography--the great literary success of +its year. This book was followed by other books +written with the declared purpose of elevating +humanity. In these works he preached generally +the cult of the woman. For his own part he +practised it under the rites of special devotion +to the transcendental merits of a certain Madame +de S---, a lady of advanced views, no longer +very young, once upon a time the intriguing wife +of a now dead and forgotten diplomat. Her loud +pretensions to be one of the leaders of modern +thought and of modern sentiment, she sheltered +(like Voltaire and Mme. de Stael) on the +republican territory of Geneva. Driving through +the streets in her big landau she exhibited to +the indifference of the natives and the stares +of the tourists a long-waisted, youthful figure +of hieratic stiffness, with a pair of big +gleaming eyes, rolling restlessly behind a short +veil of black lace, which, coming down no +further than her vividly red lips, resembled a +mask. Usually the "heroic fugitive" (this name +was bestowed upon him in a review of the English +edition of his book)--the " heroic fugitive " +accompanied her, sitting, portentously bearded +and darkly bespectacled, not by her side, but +opposite her, with his back to the horses. +Thus, facing each other, with no one else in the +roomy carriage, their airings suggested a +conscious public manifestation. Or it may have +been unconscious. Russian simplicity often +marches innocently on the edge of cynicism for +some lofty purpose. But it is a vain enterprise +for sophisticated Europe to try and understand +these doings. Considering the air of gravity +extending even to the physiognomy of the +coachman and the action of the showy horses, +this quaint display might have possessed a +mystic significance, but to the corrupt +frivolity of a Western mind, like my own, it +seemed hardly decent. + +However, it is not becoming for an obscure +teacher of languages to criticize a "heroic +fugitive" of worldwide celebrity. I was aware +from hearsay that he was an industrious busy- +body, hunting up his compatriots in hotels, in +private lodgings, and--I was told--conferring +upon them the honour of his notice in public +gardens when a suitable opening presented +itself. I was under the impression that after a +visit or two, several months before, he had +given up the ladies Haldin--no doubt +reluctantly, for there could be no question of +his being a determined person. It was perhaps +to be expected that he should reappear again on +this terrible occasion, as a Russian and a +revolutionist, to say the right thing, to strike +the true, perhaps a comforting, note. But I did +not like to see him sitting there. I trust that +an unbecoming jealousy of my privileged position +had nothing to do with it. I made no claim to a +special standing for my silent friendship. +Removed by the difference of age and nationality +as if into the sphere of another existence, I +produced, even upon myself, the effect of a dumb +helpless ghost, of an anxious immaterial thing +that could only hover about without the power to +protect or guide by as much as a whisper. Since +Miss Haldin with her sure instinct had refrained +from introducing me to the burly celebrity, I +would have retired quietly and returned later +on, had I not met a peculiar expression in her +eyes which I interpreted as a request to stay, +with the view, perhaps, of shortening an +unwelcome visit. + +He picked up his hat, but only to deposit it on +his knees. + +"We shall meet again, Natalia Victorovna. To- +day I have called only to mark those feelings +towards your honoured mother and yourself, the +nature of which you cannot doubt. I needed no +urging, but Eleanor--Madame de S--- herself has +in a way sent me. She extends to you the hand +of feminine fellowship. There is positively in +all the range of human sentiments no joy and no +sorrow that woman cannot understand, elevate, +and spiritualize by her interpretation. That +young man newly arrived from St. Petersburg, I +have mentioned to you, is already under the +charm." + +At this point Miss Haldin got up abruptly. I +was glad. He did not evidently expect anything +so decisive and, at first, throwing his head +back, he tilted up his dark glasses with bland +curiosity. At last, recollecting himself, he +stood up hastily, seizing his hat off his knees +with great adroitness. + +"How is it, Natalia Victorovna, that you have +kept aloof so long, from what after all is--let +disparaging tongues say what they like--a unique +centre of intellectual freedom and of effort to +shape a high conception of our future? In the +case of your honoured mother I understand in a +measure. At her age new ideas--new faces are +not perhaps. . . . But you! Was it mistrust-- +or indifference? You must come out of your +reserve. We Russians have no right to be +reserved with each other. In our circumstances +it is almost a crime against humanity. The +luxury of private grief is not for us. Nowadays +the devil is not combated by prayers and +fasting. And what is fasting after all but +starvation. You must not starve yourself, +Natalia Victorovna. Strength is what we want. +Spiritual strength, I mean. As to the other +kind, what could withstand us Russians if we +only put it forth? Sin is different in our day, +and the way of salvation for pure souls is +different too. It is no longer to be found in +monasteries but in the world, in the. . . ." + +The deep sound seemed to rise from under the +floor, and one felt steeped in it to the lips. +Miss Haldin's interruption resembled the effort +of a drowning person to keep above water. She +struck in with an accent of impatience-- + +"But, Peter Ivanovitch, I don't mean to retire +into a monastery. Who would look for salvation +there?" + +"I spoke figuratively," he boomed. + +"Well, then, I am speaking figuratively too. +But sorrow is sorrow and pain is pain in the old +way. They make their demands upon people. One +has got to face them the best way one can. I +know that the blow which has fallen upon us so +unexpectedly is only an episode in the fate of a +people. You may rest assured that I don't +forget that. But just now I have to think of my +mother. How can you expect me to leave her to +herself. . . ?" + +"That is putting it in a very crude way," he +protested in his great effortless voice. + +Miss Haldin did not wait for the vibration to +die out. + +"And run about visiting amongst a lot of strange +people. The idea is distasteful for me; and I +do not know what else you may mean?" + +He towered before her, enormous, deferential, +cropped as close as a convict and this big +pinkish poll evoked for me the vision of a wild +head with matted locks peering through parted +bushes, glimpses of naked, tawny limbs slinking +behind the masses of sodden foliage under a +cloud of flies and mosquitoes. It was an +involuntary tribute to the vigour of his +writing. Nobody could doubt that he had +wandered in Siberian forests, naked and girt +with a chain. The black broadcloth coat +invested his person with a character of austere +decency--something recalling a missionary. + +"Do you know what I want, Natalia Victorovna?" +he uttered solemnly. "I want you to be a +fanatic." + +"A fanatic?" + +"Yes. Faith alone won't do." + +His voice dropped to a still lower tone. He +raised for a moment one thick arm; the other +remained hanging down against his thigh, with +the fragile silk hat at the end. + +"I shall tell you now something which I entreat +you to ponder over carefully. Listen, we need a +force that would move heaven and earth--nothing +less." + +The profound, subterranean note of this "nothing +less" made one shudder, almost, like the deep +muttering of wind in the pipes of an organ. + +"And are we to find that force in the salon of +Madame de S---? Excuse me, Peter Ivanovitch, if +I permit myself to doubt it. Is not that lady a +woman of the great world, an aristocrat?" + +"Prejudice!" he cried. "You astonish me. And +suppose she was all that! She is also a woman +of flesh and blood. There is always something +to weigh down the spiritual side in all of us. +But to make of it a reproach is what I did not +expect from you. No! I did not expect that. +One would think you have listened to some +malevolent scandal." + +"I have heard no gossip, I assure you. In our +province how could we? But the world speaks of +her. What can there be in common in a lady of +that sort and an obscure country girl like me?" + +"She is a perpetual manifestation of a noble and +peerless spirit," he broke in. "Her charm--no, +I shall not speak of her charm. But, of course, +everybody who approaches her falls under the +spell. . . . Contradictions vanish, trouble +falls away from one. . . . Unless I am mistaken- +-but I never make a mistake in spiritual matters- +-you are troubled in your soul, Natalia +Victorovna." + +Miss Haldin's clear eyes looked straight at his +soft enormous face; I received the impression +that behind these dark spectacles of his he +could be as impudent as he chose. + +"Only the other evening walking back to town +from Chateau Borel with our latest interesting +arrival from Petersburg, I could notice the +powerful soothing influence--I may say +reconciling influence. . . . There he was, all +these kilometres along the shores of the lake, +silent, like a man who has been shown the way of +peace. I could feel the leaven working in his +soul, you understand. For one thing he listened +to me patiently. I myself was inspired that +evening by the firm and exquisite genius of +Eleanor--Madame de S---, you know. It was a +full moon and I could observe his face. I +cannot be deceived. . . ." + +Miss Haldin, looking down, seemed to hesitate. + +"Well! I will think of what you said, Peter +Ivanovitch. I shall try to call as soon as I +can leave mother for an hour or two safely." + +Coldly as these words were said I was amazed at +the concession. He snatched her right hand with +such fervour that I thought he was going to +press it to his lips or his breast. But he only +held it by the finger-tips in his great paw and +shook it a little up and down while he delivered +his last volley of words. + +"That's right. That's right. I haven't +obtained your full confidence as yet, Natalia +Victorovna, but that will come. All in good +time. The sister of Viktor Haldin cannot be +without importance. . . . It's simply +impossible. And no woman can remain sitting on +the steps. Flowers, tears, applause--that has +had its time; it's a mediaeval conception. The +arena, the arena itself is the place for women!" + +He relinquished her hand with a flourish, as if +giving it to her for a gift, and remained still, +his head bowed in dignified submission before +her femininity. + +"The arena! . . . You must descend into the +arena, Natalia." + +He made one step backwards, inclined his +enormous body, and was gone swiftly. The door +fell to behind him. But immediately the +powerful resonance of his voice was heard +addressing in the ante-room the middle-aged +servant woman who was letting him out. Whether +he exhorted her too to descend into the arena I +cannot tell. The thing sounded like a lecture, +and the slight crash of the outer door cut it +short suddenly. + + +III + + +We remained looking at each other for a time." + +"Do you know who he is?" + +Miss Haldin, coming forward, put this question +to me in English. + +I took her offered hand. + +"Everybody knows. He is a revolutionary +feminist, a great writer, if you like, and--how +shall I say it--the--the familiar guest of +Madame de S---'s mystic revolutionary salon." + +Miss Haldin passed her hand over her forehead. + +"You know, he was with me for more than an hour +before you came in. I was so glad mother was +lying down. She has many nights without sleep, +and then sometimes in the middle of the day she +gets a rest of several hours. It is sheer +exhaustion--but still, I am thankful. . . . If +it were not for these intervals. . . ." + +She looked at me and, with that extraordinary +penetration which used to disconcert me, shook +her head. + +"No. She would not go mad." + +"My dear young lady," I cried, by way of +protest, the more shocked because in my heart I +was far from thinking Mrs. Haldin quite sane. + +"You don't know what a fine, lucid intellect +mother had," continued Nathalie Haldin, with her +calm, clear-eyed simplicity, which seemed to me +always to have a quality of heroism. + +"I am sure. . . ." I murmured. + +"I darkened mother's room and came out here. +I've wanted for so long to think quietly." + +She paused, then, without giving any sign of +distress, added, "It's so difficult," and looked +at me with a strange fixity, as if watching for +a sign of dissent or surprise. + +I gave neither. I was irresistibly impelled to +say-- + +"The visit from that gentleman has not made it +any easier, I fear." + +Miss Haldin stood before me with a peculiar +expression in her eyes. + +"I don't pretend to understand completely. Some +guide one must have, even if one does not wholly +give up the direction of one's conduct to him. +I am an inexperienced girl, but I am not +slavish, There has been too much of that in +Russia. Why should I not listen to him? There +is no harm in having one's thoughts directed. +But I don't mind confessing to you that I have +not been completely candid with Peter +Ivanovitch. I don't quite know what prevented +me at the moment. . . ." + +She walked away suddenly from me to a distant +part of the room; but it was only to open and +shut a drawer in a bureau. She returned with a +piece of paper in her hand. It was thin and +blackened with close handwriting. It was +obviously a letter. + +"I wanted to read you the very words," she said. + "This is one of my poor brother's letters. He +never doubted. How could he doubt? They make +only such a small handful, these miserable +oppressors, before the unanimous will of our +people." + +"Your brother believed in the power of a +people's will to achieve anything?" + +"It was his religion," declared Miss Haldin. + +I looked at her calm face and her animated eyes. + +"Of course the will must be awakened, inspired, +concentrated," she went on. "That is the true +task of real agitators. One has got to give up +one's life to it. The degradation of servitude, +the absolutist lies must be uprooted and swept +out. Reform is impossible. There is nothing to +reform. There is no legality, there are no +institutions. There are only arbitrary decrees. + There is only a handful of cruel--perhaps blind- +-officials against a nation." + +The letter rustled slightly in her hand. I +glanced down at the flimsy blackened pages whose +very handwriting seemed cabalistic, +incomprehensible to the experience of Western +Europe. + +"Stated like this," I confessed, "the problem +seems simple enough. But I fear I shall not see +it solved. And if you go back to Russia I know +that I shall not see you again. Yet once more I +say: go back! Don't suppose that I am thinking +of your preservation. No! I know that you will +not be returning to personal safety. But I had +much rather think of you in danger there than +see you exposed to what may be met here." + +"I tell you what," said Miss Haldin, after a +moment of reflection. "I believe that you hate +revolution; you fancy it's not quite honest. +You belong to a people which has made a bargain +with fate and wouldn't like to be rude to it. +But we have made no bargain. It was never +offered to us--so much liberty for so much hard +cash. You shrink from the idea of revolutionary +action for those you think well of as if it were +something--how shall I say it--not quite decent." + +I bowed my head. + +"You are quite right," I said. "I think very +highly of you" + +"Don't suppose I do not know it," she began +hurriedly. "Your friendship has been very +valuable." + +"I have done little else but look on." + +She was a little flushed under the eyes. + +"There is a way of looking on which is valuable +I have felt less lonely because of it. It's +difficult to explain." + +"Really? Well, I too have felt less lonely. +That's easy to explain, though. But it won't go +on much longer. The last thing I want to tell +you is this: in a real revolution--not a simple +dynastic change or a mere reform of institutions- +-in a real revolution the best characters do not +come to the front. A violent revolution falls +into the hands of narrow-minded fanatics and of +tyrannical hypocrites at first. Afterwards +comes the turn of all the pretentious +intellectual failures of the time. Such are the +chiefs and the leaders. You will notice that I +have left out the mere rogues. The scrupulous +and the just, the noble, humane, and devoted +natures; the unselfish and the intelligent may +begin a movement--but it passes away from them. +They are not the leaders of a revolution. They +are its victims: the victims of disgust, of +disenchantment--often of remorse. Hopes +grotesquely betrayed, ideals caricatured--that +is the definition of revolutionary success. +There have been in every revolution hearts +broken by such successes. But enough of that. +My meaning is that I don't want you to be a +victim." + +"If I could believe all you have said I still +wouldn't think of myself," protested Miss +Haldin. "I would take liberty from any hand as +a hungry man would snatch at a piece of bread. +The true progress must begin after. And for +that the right men shall be found. They are +already amongst us. One comes upon them in +their obscurity, unknown, preparing themselves. +. . ." + +She spread out the letter she had kept in her +hand all the time, and looking down at it-- + +"Yes! One comes upon such men!" she repeated, +and then read out the words, "Unstained, lofty, +and solitary existences." + +Folding up the letter, while I looked at her +interrogatively, she explained-- + +"These are the words which my brother applies to +a young man he came to know in St. Petersburg. +An intimate friend, I suppose. It must be. His +is the only name my brother mentions in all his +correspondence with me. Absolutely the only +one, and--would you believe it?--the man is +here. He arrived recently in Geneva." + +"Have you seen him?" I inquired. "But, of +course; you must have seen him." + +"No! No! I haven't! I didn't know he was +here. It's Peter Ivanovitch himself who told +me. You have heard him yourself mentioning a +new arrival from Petersburg. . . . Well, that +is the man of 'unstained, lofty, and solitary +existence.' My brother's friend!" + +"Compromised politically, I suppose," I remarked. + +"I don't know. Yes. It must be so. Who knows! + Perhaps it was this very friendship with my +brother which. . . . But no! It is scarcely +possible. Really, I know nothing except what +Peter Ivanovitch told me of him. He has brought +a letter of introduction from Father Zosim--you +know, the priest-democrat; you have heard of +Father Zosim?" + +"Oh yes. The famous Father Zosim was staying +here in Geneva for some two months about a year +ago," I said. " When he left here he seems to +have disappeared from the world." + +"It appears that he is at work in Russia again. +Somewhere in the centre," Miss Haldin said, with +animation. "But please don't mention that to +any one--don't let it slip from you, because if +it got into the papers it would be dangerous for +him." + +"You are anxious, of course, to meet that friend +of your brother?" I asked. + +Miss Haldin put the letter into her pocket. Her +eyes looked beyond my shoulder at the door of +her mother's room. + +"Not here," she murmured. "Not for the first +time, at least." + +After a moment of silence I said good-bye, but +Miss Haldin followed me into the ante-room, +closing the door behind us carefully. + +"I suppose you guess where I mean to go +tomorrow?" + +"You have made up your mind to call on Madame de +S---." + +"Yes. I am going to the Chateau Borel. I must." + +"What do you expect to hear there?" I asked, in +a low voice. + +I wondered if she were not deluding herself with +some impossible hope. It was not that, however. + +"Only think--such a friend. The only man +mentioned in his letters. He would have +something to give me, if nothing more than a few +poor words. It may be something said and +thought in those last days. Would you want me +to turn my back on what is left of my poor +brother--a friend?" + +"Certainly not," I said. "I quite understand +your pious curiosity." + +"--Unstained, lofty, and solitary existences," +she murmured to herself. "There are! There +are! Well, let me question one of them about +the loved dead." + +"How do you know, though, that you will meet him +there? Is he staying in the Chateau as a guest-- +do you suppose?" + +"I can't really tell," she confessed. "He +brought a written introduction from Father Zosim- +-who, it seems, is a friend of Madame de S--- +too. She can't be such a worthless woman after +all." + +"There were all sorts of rumours afloat about +Father Zosim himself," I observed. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Calumny is a weapon of our government too. +It's well known. Oh yes! It is a fact that +Father Zosim had the protection of the Governor- +General of a certain province. We talked on the +subject with my brother two years ago, I +remember. But his work was good. And now he is +proscribed. What better proof can one require. +But no matter what that priest was or is. All +that cannot affect my brother's friend. If I +don't meet him there I shall ask these people +for his address. And, of course, mother must +see him too, later on. There is no guessing +what he may have to tell us. It would be a +mercy if mamma could be soothed. You know what +she imagines. Some explanation perhaps may be +found, or--or even made up, perhaps. It would +be no sin." + +"Certainly," I said, "it would be no sin. It +may be a mistake, though." + +"I want her only to recover some of her old +spirit. While she is like this I cannot think +of anything calmly." + +"Do you mean to invent some sort of pious fraud +for your mother's sake?" I asked. + +"Why fraud? Such a friend is sure to know +something of my brother in these last days. He +could tell us. . . . There is something in the +facts which will not let me rest. I am certain +he meant to join us abroad--that he had some +plans--some great patriotic action in view; not +only for himself, but for both of us. I trusted +in that. I looked forward to the time! Oh! +with such hope and impatience. I could have +helped. And now suddenly this appearance of +recklessness--as if he had not cared. . . ." + +She remained silent for a time, then obstinately +she concluded-- + +"I want to know. . . ." + +Thinking it over, later on, while I walked +slowly away from the Boulevard des Philosophes, +I asked myself critically, what precisely was it +that she wanted to know? What I had heard of +her history was enough to give me a clue. In +the educational establishment for girls where +Miss Haldin finished her studies she was looked +upon rather unfavourably. She was suspected of +holding independent views on matters settled by +official teaching. Afterwards, when the two +ladies returned to their country place, both +mother and daughter, by speaking their minds +openly on public events, had earned for +themselves a reputation of liberalism. The +three-horse trap of the district police-captain +began to be seen frequently in their village. +"I must keep an eye on the peasants"--so he +explained his visits up at the house. "Two +lonely ladies must be looked after a little." +He would inspect the walls as though he wanted +to pierce them with his eyes, peer at the +photographs, turn over the books in the drawing- +room negligently, and after the usual +refreshments, would depart. But the old priest +of the village came one evening in the greatest +distress and agitation, to confess that he--the +priest--had been ordered to watch and ascertain +in other ways too (such as using his spiritual +power with the servants) all that was going on +in the house, and especially in respect of the +visitors these ladies received, who they were, +the length of their stay, whether any of them +were strangers to that part of the country, and +so on. The poor, simple old man was in an agony +of humiliation and terror. "I came to warn you. + Be cautious in your conduct, for the love of +God. I am burning with shame, but there is no +getting out from under the net. I shall have to +tell them what I see, because if I did not there +is my deacon. He would make the worst of things +to curry favour. And then my son-in-law, the +husband of my Parasha, who is a writer in the +Government Domain office; they would soon kick +him out--and maybe send him away somewhere." +The old man lamented the necessities of the +times--"when people do not agree somehow" and +wiped his eyes. He did not wish to spend the +evening of his days with a shaven head in the +penitent's cell of some monastery--"and +subjected to all the severities of +ecclesiastical discipline; for they would show +no mercy to an old man," he groaned. He became +almost hysterical, and the two ladies, full of +commiseration, soothed him the best they could +before they let him go back to his cottage. +But, as a matter of fact, they had very few +visitors. The neighbours--some of them old +friends--began to keep away; a few from +timidity, others with marked disdain, being +grand people that came only for the summer--Miss +Haldin explained to me--aristocrats, +reactionaries. It was a solitary existence for +a young girl. Her relations with her mother +were of the tenderest and most open kind; but +Mrs. Haldin had seen the experiences of her own +generation, its sufferings, its deceptions, its +apostasies too. Her affection for her children +was expressed by the suppression of all signs of +anxiety. She maintained a heroic reserve. To +Nathalie Haldin, her brother with his Petersburg +existence, not enigmatical in the least (there +could be no doubt of what he felt or thought) +but conducted a little mysteriously, was the +only visible representative of a proscribed +liberty. All the significance of freedom, its +indefinite promises, lived in their long +discussions, which breathed the loftiest hope of +action and faith in success. Then, suddenly, +the action, the hopes, came to an end with the +details ferreted out by the English journalist. +The concrete fact, the fact of his death +remained! but it remained obscure in its deeper +causes. She felt herself abandoned without +explanation. But she did not suspect him. What +she wanted was to learn almost at any cost how +she could remain faithful to his departed spirit. + + +IV + + +Several days elapsed before I met Nathalie +Haldin again. I was crossing the place in front +of the theatre when I made out her shapely +figure in the very act of turning between the +gate pillars of the unattractive public +promenade of the Bastions. She walked away from +me, but I knew we should meet as she returned +down the main alley--unless, indeed, she were +going home. In that case, I don't think I +should have called on her yet. My desire to +keep her away from these people was as strong as +ever, but I had no illusions as to my power. I +was but a Westerner, and it was clear that Miss +Haldin would not, could not listen to my wisdom; +and as to my desire of listening to her voice, +it were better, I thought, not to indulge +overmuch in that pleasure. No, I should not +have gone to the Boulevard des Philosophes; but +when at about the middle of the principal alley +I saw Miss Haldin coming towards me, I was too +curious, and too honest, perhaps, to run away. + +There was something of the spring harshness in +the air. The blue sky was hard, but the young +leaves clung like soft mist about the +uninteresting range of trees; and the clear sun +put little points of gold into the grey of Miss +Haldin's frank eyes, turned to me with a +friendly greeting. + +I inquired after the health of her mother. + +She had a slight movement of the shoulders and a +little sad sigh. + +"But, you see, I did come out for a walk. . .for +exercise, as you English say." + +I smiled approvingly, and she added an +unexpected remark-- + +" It is a glorious day." + +Her voice, slightly harsh, but fascinating with +its masculine and bird-like quality, had the +accent of spontaneous conviction. I was glad of +it. It was as though she had become aware of +her youth--for there was but little of spring- +like glory in the rectangular railed space of +grass and trees, framed visibly by the orderly +roof-slopes of that town, comely without grace, +and hospitable without sympathy. In the very +air through which she moved there was but little +warmth; and the sky, the sky of a land without +horizons, swept and washed clean by the April +showers, extended a cold cruel blue, without +elevation, narrowed suddenly by the ugly, dark +wall of the Jura where, here and there, lingered +yet a few miserable trails and patches of snow. +All the glory of the season must have been +within herself--and I was glad this feeling had +come into her life, if only for a little time. + +"I am pleased to hear you say these words." She +gave me a quick look. Quick, not stealthy. If +there was one thing of which she was absolutely +incapable, it was stealthiness, Her sincerity +was expressed in the very rhythm of her walk. +It was I who was looking at her covertly--if I +may say so. I knew where she had been, but I +did not know what she had seen and heard in that +nest of aristocratic conspiracies. I use the +word aristocratic, for want of a better term. +The Chateau Borel, embowered in the trees and +thickets of its neglected grounds, had its fame +in our day, like the residence of that other +dangerous and exiled woman, Madame de Stael, in +the Napoleonic era. Only the Napoleonic +despotism, the booted heir of the Revolution, +which counted that intellectual woman for an +enemy worthy to be watched, was something quite +unlike the autocracy in mystic vestments, +engendered by the slavery of a Tartar conquest. +And Madame de S--- was very far from resembling +the gifted author of _Corinne_. She made a +great noise about being persecuted. I don't +know if she were regarded in certain circles as +dangerous. As to being watched, I imagine that +the Chateau Borel could be subjected only to a +most distant observation. It was in its +exclusiveness an ideal abode for hatching +superior plots--whether serious or futile. But +all this did not interest me. I wanted to know +the effect its extraordinary inhabitants and its +special atmosphere had produced on a girl like +Miss Haldin, so true, so honest, but so +dangerously inexperienced! Her unconsciously +lofty ignorance of the baser instincts of +mankind left her disarmed before her own +impulses. And there was also that friend of her +brother, the significant new arrival from +Russia. . . . I wondered whether she had +managed to meet him. + +We walked for some time, slowly and in silence. + +"You know," I attacked her suddenly, "if you +don't intend telling me anything, you must say +so distinctly, and then, of course, it shall be +final. But I won't play at delicacy. I ask you +point-blank for all the details." + +She smiled faintly at my threatening tone. + +"You are as curious as a child." + +"No. I am only an anxious old man," I replied +earnestly. + +She rested her glance on me as if to ascertain +the degree of my anxiety or the number of my +years. My physiognomy has never been +expressive, I believe, and as to my years I am +not ancient enough as yet to be strikingly +decrepit. I have no long beard like the good +hermit of a romantic ballad; my footsteps are +not tottering, my aspect not that of a slow, +venerable sage. Those picturesque advantages +are not mine. I am old, alas, in a brisk, +commonplace way. And it seemed to me as though +there were some pity for me in Miss Haldin's +prolonged glance. She stepped out a little +quicker. + +"You ask for all the details. Let me see. I +ought to remember them. It was novel enough for +a--a village girl like me." + +After a moment of silence she began by saying +that the Chateau Borel was almost as neglected +inside as outside. It was nothing to wonder at, +a Hamburg banker, I believe, retired from +business, had it built to cheer his remaining +days by the view of that lake whose precise, +orderly, and well-to-do beauty must have been +attractive to the unromantic imagination of a +business man. But he died soon. His wife +departed too (but only to Italy), and this house +of moneyed ease, presumably unsaleable, had +stood empty for several years. One went to it +up a gravel drive, round a large, coarse grass- +plot, with plenty of time to observe the +degradation of its stuccoed front. Miss Haldin +said that the impression was unpleasant. It +grew more depressing as one came nearer. + +She observed green stains of moss on the steps +of the terrace. The front door stood wide open. + There was no one about. She found herself in a +wide, lofty, and absolutely empty hall, with a +good many doors. These doors were all shut. A +broad, bare stone staircase faced her, and the +effect of the whole was of an untenanted house. +She stood still, disconcerted by the solitude, +but after a while she became aware of a voice +speaking continuously somewhere. + +"You were probably being observed all the time," +I suggested. " There must have been eyes." + +"I don't see how that could be," she retorted. +"I haven't seen even a bird in the grounds. I +don't remember hearing a single twitter in the +trees. The whole place appeared utterly +deserted except for the voice." + +She could not make out the language--Russian, +French, or German. No one seemed to answer it. +It was as though the voice had been left behind +by the departed inhabitants to talk to the bare +walls. It went on volubly, with a pause now and +then. It was lonely and sad. The time seemed +very long to Miss Haldin. An invincible +repugnance prevented her from opening one of the +doors in the hall. It was so hopeless. No one +would come, the voice would never stop. She +confessed to me that she had to resist an +impulse to turn round and go away unseen, as she +had come. + +''Really? You had that impulse?" I cried, full +of regret. "What a pity you did not obey it." + +She shook her head. + +"What a strange memory it would have been for +one. Those deserted grounds, that empty hall, +that impersonal, voluble voice, and--nobody, +nothing, not a soul." + +The memory would have been unique and harmless. +But she was not a girl to run away from an +intimidating impression of solitude and mystery. + "No, I did not run away," she said. "I stayed +where I was--and I did see a soul. Such a +strange soul." + +As she was gazing up the broad staircase, and +had concluded that the voice came from somewhere +above, a rustle of dress attracted her +attention. She looked down and saw a woman +crossing the hall, having issued apparently +through one of the many doors. Her face was +averted, so that at first she was not aware of +Miss Haldin. + +On turning her head and seeing a stranger, she +appeared very much startled. From her slender +figure Miss Haldin had taken her for a young +girl; but if her face was almost childishly +round, it was also sallow and wrinkled, with +dark rings under the eyes. A thick crop of +dusty brown hair was parted boyishly on the side +with a lateral wave above the dry, furrowed +forehead. After a moment of dumb blinking, she +suddenly squatted down on the floor. + +"What do you mean by squatted down?" I asked, +astonished. "This is a very strange detail." + +Miss Haldin explained the reason. This person +when first seen was carrying a small bowl in her +hand. She had squatted down to put it on the +floor for the benefit of a large cat, which +appeared then from behind her skirts, and hid +its head into the bowl greedily. She got up, +and approaching Miss Haldin asked with nervous +bluntness-- + +"What do you want? Who are you?" + +Miss Haldin mentioned her name and also the name +of Peter Ivanovitch. The girlish, elderly woman +nodded and puckered her face into a momentary +expression of sympathy. Her black silk blouse +was old and even frayed in places; the black +serge skirt was short and shabby. She continued +to blink at close quarters, and her eyelashes +and eyebrows seemed shabby too. Miss Haldin, +speaking gently to her, as if to an unhappy and +sensitive person, explained how it was that her +visit could not be an altogether unexpected +event to Madame de S---. + +"Ah! Peter Ivanovitch brought you an +invitation. How was I to know? A _dame de +compangnie_ is not consulted, as you may +imagine." + +The shabby woman laughed a little. Her teeth, +splendidly white and admirably even, looked +absurdly out of place, like a string of pearls +on the neck of a ragged tramp. "Peter +Ivanovitch is the greatest genius of the century +perhaps, but he is the most inconsiderate man +living. So if you have an appointment with him +you must not be surprised to hear that he is not +here." + +Miss Haldin explained that she had no +appointment with Peter Ivanovitch. She became +interested at once in that bizarre person. + +"Why should he put himself out for you or any +one else? Oh! these geniuses. If you only +knew! Yes! And their books--I mean, of course, +the books that the world admires, the inspired +books. But you have not been behind the scenes. + Wait till you have to sit at a table for a half +a day with a pen in your hand. He can walk up +and down his rooms for hours and hours. I used +to get so stiff and numb that I was afraid I +would lose my balance and fall off the chair all +at once." + +She kept her hands folded in front of her, and +her eyes, fixed on Miss Haldin's face, betrayed +no animation whatever. Miss Haldin, gathering +that the lady who called herself a _dame de +compangnie_ was proud of having acted as +secretary to Peter Ivanovitch, made an amiable +remark. + +"You could not imagine a more trying +experience," declared the lady. "There is an +Anglo-American journalist interviewing Madame de +S--- now, or I would take you up," she continued +in a changed tone and glancing towards the +staircase. "I act as master of ceremonies." + +It appeared that Madame de S--- could not bear +Swiss servants about her person; and, indeed, +servants would not stay for very long in the +Chateau Borel. There were always difficulties. +Miss Haldin had already noticed that the hall +was like a dusty barn of marble and stucco with +cobwebs in the corners and faint tracks of mud +on the black and white tessellated floor. + +"I look also after this animal," continued the +_dame de compagnie_, keeping her hands folded +quietly in front of her; and she bent her worn +gaze upon the cat. "I don't mind a bit. +Animals have their rights; though, strictly +speaking, I see no reason why they should not +suffer as well as human beings. Do you? But of +course they never suffer so much. That is +impossible. Only, in their case it is more +pitiful because they cannot make a revolution. +I used to be a Republican. I suppose you are a +Republican?" + +Miss Haldin confessed to me that she did not +know what to say. But she nodded slightly, and +asked in her turn-- + +"And are you no longer a Republican?" + +"After taking down Peter Ivanovitch from +dictation for two years, it is difficult for me +to be anything. First of all, you have to sit +perfectly motionless. The slightest movement +you make puts to flight the ideas of Peter +Ivanovitch. You hardly dare to breathe. And as +to coughing--God forbid! Peter Ivanovitch +changed the position of the table to the wall +because at first I could not help raising my +eyes to look out of the window, while waiting +for him to go on with his dictation. That was +not allowed. He said I stared so stupidly. I +was likewise not permitted to look at him over +my shoulder. Instantly Peter Ivanovitch stamped +his foot, and would roar, 'Look down on the +paper!' It seems my expression, my face, put +him off. Well, I know that I am not beautiful, +and that my expression is not hopeful either. +He said that my air of unintelligent expectation +irritated him. These are his own words." + +Miss Haldin was shocked, but admitted to me that +she was not altogether surprised. + +"Is it possible that Peter Ivanovitch could +treat any woman so rudely?" she cried. + +The _dame de compagnie_ nodded several times +with an air of discretion, then assured Miss +Haldin that she did not mind in the least. The +trying part of it was to have the secret of the +composition laid bare before her; to see the +great author of the revolutionary gospels grope +for words as if he were in the dark as to what +he meant to say. + +"I am quite willing to be the blind instrument +of higher ends. To give one's life for the +cause is nothing. But to have one's illusions +destroyed--that is really almost more than one +can bear. I really don't exaggerate," she +insisted. "It seemed to freeze my very beliefs +in me--the more so that when we worked in winter +Peter Ivanovitch, walking up and down the room, +required no artificial heat to keep himself +warm. Even when we move to the South of France +there are bitterly cold days, especially when +you have to sit still for six hours at a +stretch. The walls of these villas on the +Riviera are so flimsy. Peter Ivanovitch did not +seem to be aware of anything. It is true that I +kept down my shivers from fear of putting him +out. I used to set my teeth till my jaws felt +absolutely locked. In the moments when Peter +Ivanovitch interrupted his dictation, and +sometimes these intervals were very long--often +twenty minutes, no less, while he walked to and +fro behind my back muttering to himself--I felt +I was dying by inches, I assure you. Perhaps if +I had let my teeth rattle Peter Ivanovitch might +have noticed my distress, but I don't think it +would have had any practical effect. She's very +miserly in such matters." + +The _dame de compagnie_ glanced up the +staircase. The big cat had finished the milk +and was rubbing its whiskered cheek sinuously +against her skirt. She dived to snatch it up +from the floor. + +"Miserliness is rather a quality than otherwise, +you know," she continued, holding the cat in her +folded arms. "With us it is misers who can +spare money for worthy objects--not the so- +called generous natures. But pray don't think I +am a sybarite. My father was a clerk in the +Ministry of Finances with no position at all. +You may guess by this that our home was far from +luxurious, though of course we did not actually +suffer from cold. I ran away from my parents, +you know, directly I began to think by myself. +It is not very easy, such thinking. One has got +to be put in the way of it, awakened to the +truth. I am indebted for my salvation to an old +apple-woman, who had her stall under the gateway +of the house we lived in. She had a kind +wrinkled face, and the most friendly voice +imaginable. One day, casually, we began to talk +about a child, a ragged little girl we had seen +begging from men in the streets at dusk; and +from one thing to another my eyes began to open +gradually to the horrors from which innocent +people are made to suffer in this world, only in +order that governments might exist. After I +once understood the crime of the upper classes, +I could not go on living with my parents. Not a +single charitable word was to be heard in our +home from year's end to year's end; there was +nothing but the talk of vile office intrigues, +and of promotion and of salaries, and of +courting the favour of the chiefs. The mere +idea of marrying one day such another man as my +father made me shudder. I don't mean that there +was anyone wanting to marry me. There was not +the slightest prospect of anything of the kind. +But was it not sin enough to live on a +Government salary while half Russia was dying of +hunger? The Ministry of Finances! What a +grotesque horror it is! What does the starving, +ignorant people want with a Ministry of +Finances? I kissed my old folks on both cheeks, +and went away from them to live in cellars, with +the proletariat. I tried to make myself useful +to the utterly hopeless. I suppose you +understand what I mean? I mean the people who +have nowhere to go and nothing to look forward +to in this life. Do you understand how +frightful that is--nothing to look forward to! +Sometimes I think that it is only in Russia that +there are such people and such a depth of misery +can be reached. Well, I plunged into it, and-- +do you know--there isn't much that one can do in +there. No, indeed--at least as long as there +are Ministries of Finances and such like +grotesque horrors to stand in the way. I +suppose I would have gone mad there just trying +to fight the vermin, if it had not been for a +man. It was my old friend and teacher, the poor +saintly apple-woman, who discovered him for me, +quite accidentally. She came to fetch me late +one evening in her quiet way. I followed her +where she would lead; that part of my life was +in her hands altogether, and without her my +spirit would have perished miserably. The man +was a young workman, a lithographer by trade, +and he had got into trouble in connexion with +that affair of temperance tracts--you remember. +There was a lot of people put in prison for +that. The Ministry of Finances again! What +would become of it if the poor folk ceased +making beasts of themselves with drink? Upon my +word, I would think that finances and all the +rest of it are an invention of the devil; only +that a belief in a supernatural source of evil +is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of +every wickedness. Finances indeed!" + +Hatred and contempt hissed in her utterance of +the word "finances," but at the very moment she +gently stroked the cat reposing in her arms. +She even raised them slightly, and inclining her +head rubbed her cheek against the fur of the +animal, which received this caress with the +complete detachment so characteristic of its +kind. Then looking at Miss Haldin she excused +herself once more for not taking her upstairs to +Madame S--- The interview could not be +interrupted. Presently the journalist would be +seen coming down the stairs. The best thing was +to remain in the hall; and besides, all these +rooms (she glanced all round at the many doors), +all these rooms on the ground floor were +unfurnished. + +"Positively there is no chair down here to offer +you," she continued. "But if you prefer your +own thoughts to my chatter, I will sit down on +the bottom step here and keep silent." + +Miss Haldin hastened to assure her that, on the +contrary, she was very much interested in the +story of the journeyman lithographer. He was a +revolutionist, of course. + +"A martyr, a simple man," said the _dame de +compangnie_, with a faint sigh, and gazing +through the open front door dreamily. She +turned her misty brown eyes on Miss Haldin. + +"I lived with him for four months. It was like +a nightmare." + +As Miss Haldin looked at her inquisitively she +began to describe the emaciated face of the man, +his fleshless limbs, his destitution. The room +into which the apple-woman had led her was a +tiny garret, a miserable den under the roof of a +sordid house. The plaster fallen off the walls +covered the floor, and when the door was opened +a horrible tapestry of black cobwebs waved in +the draught. He had been liberated a few days +before--flung out of prison into the streets. +And Miss Haldin seemed to see for the first +time, a name and a face upon the body of that +suffering people whose hard fate had been the +subject of so many conversations, between her +and her brother, in the garden of their country +house. + +He had been arrested with scores and scores of +other people in that affair of the lithographed +temperance tracts. Unluckily, having got hold +of a great many suspected persons, the police +thought they could extract from some of them +other information relating to the revolutionist +propaganda. + +"They beat him so cruelly in the course of +investigation," went on the _dame de compagnie_, +"that they injured him internally. When they +had done with him he was doomed. He could do +nothing for himself. I beheld him lying on a +wooden bedstead without any bedding, with his +head on a bundle of dirty rags, lent to him out +of charity by an old rag-picker, who happened to +live in the basement of the house. There he +was, uncovered, burning with fever, and there +was not even a jug in the room for the water to +quench his thirst with. There was nothing +whatever--just that bedstead and the bare floor." + +"Was there no one in all that great town amongst +the liberals and revolutionaries, to extend a +helping hand to a brother?" asked Miss Haldin +indignantly. + +"Yes. But you do not know the most terrible +part of that man's misery. Listen. It seems +that they ill-used him so atrociously that, at +last, his firmness gave way, and he did let out +some information. Poor soul, the flesh is weak, +you know. What it was he did not tell me. +There was a crushed spirit in that mangled body. + Nothing I found to say could make him whole. +When they let him out, he crept into that hole, +and bore his remorse stoically. He would not go +near anyone he knew. I would have sought +assistance for him, but, indeed, where could I +have gone looking for it? Where was I to look +for anyone who had anything to spare or any +power to help? The people living round us were +all starving and drunken. They were the victims +of the Ministry of Finances. Don't ask me how +we lived. I couldn't tell you. It was like a +miracle of wretchedness. I had nothing to sell, +and I assure you my clothes were in such a state +that it was impossible for me to go out in the +daytime. I was indecent. I had to wait till it +was dark before I ventured into the streets to +beg for a crust of bread, or whatever I could +get, to keep him and me alive. Often I got +nothing, and then I would crawl back and lie on +the floor by the side of his couch. Oh yes, I +can sleep quite soundly on bare boards. That is +nothing, and I am only mentioning it to you so +that you should not think I am a sybarite. It +was infinitely less killing than the task of +sitting for hours at a table in a cold study to +take the books of Peter Ivanovitch from +dictation. But you shall see yourself what that +is like, so I needn't say any more about it." + +"It is by no means certain that I will ever take +Peter Ivanovitch from dictation," said Miss +Haldin. + +"No!" cried the other incredulously. "Not +certain? You mean to say that you have not made +up your mind?" + +When Miss Haldin assured her that there never +had been any question of that between her and +Peter Ivanovitch, the woman with the cat +compressed her lips tightly for a moment. + +"Oh, you will find yourself settled at the table +before you know that you have made up your mind. + Don't make a mistake, it is disenchanting to +hear Peter Ivanovitch dictate, but at the same +time there is a fascination about it. He is a +man of genius. Your face is certain not to +irritate him; you may perhaps even help his +inspiration, make it easier for him to deliver +his message. As I look at you, I feel certain +that you are the kind of woman who is not likely +to check the flow of his inspiration." + +Miss Haldin thought it useless to protest +against all these assumptions. + +"But this man--this workman did he die under +your care?" she said, after a short silence. + +The _dame de compagnie_, listening up the stairs +where now two voices were alternating with some +animation, made no answer for a time. When the +loud sounds of the discussion had sunk into an +almost inaudible murmur, she turned to Miss +Haldin. + +"Yes, he died, but not, literally speaking, in +my arms, as you might suppose. As a matter of +fact, I was asleep when he breathed his last. +So even now I cannot say I have seen anybody +die. A few days before the end, some young men +found us out in our extremity. They were +revolutionists, as you might guess. He ought to +have trusted in his political friends when he +came out of prison. He had been liked and +respected before, and nobody would have dreamed +of reproaching him with his indiscretion before +the police. Everybody knows how they go to +work, and the strongest man has his moments of +weakness before pain. Why, even hunger alone is +enough to give one queer ideas as to what may be +done. A doctor came, our lot was alleviated as +far as physical comforts go, but otherwise he +could not be consoled--poor man. I assure you, +Miss Haldin, that he was very lovable, but I had +not the strength to weep. I was nearly dead +myself. But there were kind hearts to take care +of me. A dress was found to clothe my +nakedness. I tell you, I was not decent--and +after a time the revolutionists placed me with a +Jewish family going abroad, as governess. Of +course I could teach the children, I finished +the sixth class of the Lyceum; but the real +object was, that I should carry some important +papers across the frontier. I was entrusted +with a packet which I carried next my heart. +The gendarmes at the station did not suspect the +governess of a Jewish family, busy looking after +three children. I don't suppose those Hebrews +knew what I had on me, for I had been introduced +to them in a very roundabout way by persons who +did not belong to the revolutionary movement, +and naturally I had been instructed to accept a +very small salary. When we reached Germany I +left that family and delivered my papers to a +revolutionist in Stuttgart; after this I was +employed in various ways. But you do not want +to hear all that. I have never felt that I was +very useful, but I live in hopes of seeing all +the Ministries destroyed, finances and all. The +greatest joy of my life has been to hear what +your brother has done." + +She directed her round eyes again to the +sunshine outside, while the cat reposed within +her folded arms in lordly beatitude and sphinx- +like meditation. + +"Yes! I rejoiced," she began again. "For me +there is a heroic ring about the very name of +Haldin. They must have been trembling with fear +in their Ministries--all those men with fiendish +hearts. Here I stand talking to you, and when I +think of all the cruelties, oppressions, and +injustices that are going on at this very +moment, my head begins to swim. I have looked +closely at what would seem inconceivable if +one's own eyes had not to be trusted. I have +looked at things that made me hate myself for my +helplessness. I hated my hands that had no +power, my voice that could not be heard, my very +mind that would not become unhinged. Ah! I +have seen things. And you?" + +Miss Haldin was moved. She shook her head +slightly. + +"No, I have seen nothing for myself as yet," she +murmured "We have always lived in the country. +It was my brother's wish." + +"It is a curious meeting--this--between you and +me," continued the other. "Do you believe in +chance, Miss Haldin? How could I have expected +to see you, his sister, with my own eyes? Do +you know that when the news came the +revolutionaries here were as much surprised as +pleased, every bit? No one seemed to know +anything about your brother. Peter Ivanovitch +himself had not foreseen that such a blow was +going to be struck. I suppose your brother was +simply inspired. I myself think that such deeds +should be done by inspiration. It is a great +privilege to have the inspiration and the +opportunity. Did he resemble you at all? Don't +you rejoice, Miss Haldin?" + +"You must not expect too much from me," said +Miss Haldin, repressing an inclination to cry +which came over her suddenly. She succeeded, +then added calmly, "I am not a heroic person!" + +"You think you couldn't have done such a thing +yourself perhaps?" + +"I don't know. I must not even ask myself till +I have lived a little longer, seen more. . . ." + +The other moved her head appreciatively. The +purring of the cat had a loud complacency in the +empty hall. No sound of voices came from +upstairs. Miss Haldin broke the silence. + +"What is it precisely that you heard people say +about my brother? You said that they were +surprised. Yes, I supposed they were. Did it +not seem strange to them that my brother should +have failed to save himself after the most +difficult part--that is, getting away from the +spot--was over? Conspirators should understand +these things well. There are reasons why I am +very anxious to know how it is he failed to +escape." + +The _dame de compagnie_ had advanced to the open +hall-door. She glanced rapidly over her +shoulder at Miss Haldin, who remained within the +hall. + +"Failed to escape," she repeated absently. +"Didn't he make the sacrifice of his life? +Wasn't he just simply inspired? Wasn't it an +act of abnegation? Aren't you certain?" + +"What I am certain of," said Miss Haldin, "is +that it was not an act of despair. Have you not +heard some opinion expressed here upon his +miserable capture?" + +The _dame de compagnie_ mused for a while in the +doorway. + +"Did I hear? Of course, everything is discussed +here. Has not all the world been speaking about +your brother? For my part, the mere mention of +his achievement plunges me into an envious +ecstasy. Why should a man certain of +immortality think of his life at all?" + +She kept her back turned to Miss Haldin. +Upstairs from behind a great dingy white and +gold door, visible behind the balustrade of the +first floor landing, a deep voice began to drone +formally, as if reading over notes or something +of the sort. It paused frequently, and then +ceased altogether. + +"I don't think I can stay any longer now," said +Miss Haldin. "I may return another day." + +She waited for the _dame de compagnie_ to make +room for her exit; but the woman appeared lost +in the contemplation of sunshine and shadows, +sharing between themselves the stillness of the +deserted grounds. She concealed the view of the +drive from Miss Haldin. Suddenly she said-- + +"It will not be necessary; here is Peter +Ivanovitch himself coming up. But he is not +alone. He is seldom alone now." + +Hearing that Peter Ivanovitch was approaching, +Miss Haldin was not so pleased as she might have +been expected to be. Somehow she had lost the +desire to see either the heroic captive or +Madame de S---, and the reason of that shrinking +which came upon her at the very last minute is +accounted for by the feeling that those two +people had not been treating the woman with the +cat kindly. + +"Would you please let me pass?" said Miss Haldin +at last, touching lightly the shoulder of the +_dame de compagnie_. + +But the other, pressing the cat to her breast, +did not budge. + +"I know who is with him," she said, without even +looking back. + +More unaccountably than ever Miss Haldin felt a +strong impulse to leave the house. + +"Madame de S--- may be engaged for some time +yet, and what I have got to say to Peter +Ivanovitch is just a simple question which I +might put to him when I meet him in the grounds +on my way down. I really think I must go. I +have been some time here, and I am anxious to +get back to my mother. Will you let me pass, +please?" + +The _dame de compagnie_ turned her head at last. + +"I never supposed that you really wanted to see +Madame de S---," she said, with unexpected +insight. "Not for a moment." There was +something confidential and mysterious in her +tone. She passed through the door, with Miss +Haldin following her, on to the terrace, and +they descended side by side the moss-grown stone +steps. There was no one to be seen on the part +of the drive visible from the front of the house. + +"They are hidden by the trees over there," +explained Miss Haldin's new acquaintance, "but +you shall see them directly. I don't know who +that young man is to whom Peter Ivanovitch has +taken such a fancy. He must be one of us, or he +would not be admitted here when the others come. + You know what I mean by the others. But I must +say that he is not at all mystically inclined. +I don't know that I have made him out yet. +Naturally I am never for very long in the +drawing-room. There is always something to do +for me, though the establishment here is not so +extensive as the villa on the Riviera. But +still there are plenty of opportunities for me +to make myself useful." + +To the left, passing by the ivy-grown end of the +stables, appeared Peter Ivanovitch and his +companion. They walked very slowly, conversing +with some animation. They stopped for a moment, +and Peter Ivanovitch was seen to gesticulate, +while the young man listened motionless, with +his arms hanging down and his head bowed a +little. He was dressed in a dark brown suit and +a black hat. The round eyes of the _dame de +compagnie_ remained fixed on the two figures, +which had resumed their leisurely approach. + +"An extremely polite young man," she said. "You +shall see what a bow he will make; and it won't +altogether be so exceptional either. He bows in +the same way when he meets me alone in the hall." + +She moved on a few steps, with Miss Haldin by +her side, and things happened just as she had +foretold. The young man took off his hat, bowed +and fell back, while Peter Ivanovitch advanced +quicker, his black, thick arms extended +heartily, and seized hold of both Miss Haldin's +hands, shook them, and peered at her through his +dark glasses. + +"That's right, that's right!" he exclaimed +twice, approvingly. "And so you have been +looked after by. . . ." He frowned slightly at +the _dame de compagnie_, who was still nursing +the cat. "I conclude Eleanor--Madame de S--- is +engaged. I know she expected somebody to-day. +So the newspaper man did turn up, eh? She is +engaged?" + +For all answer the _dame de compagnie_ turned +away her head. + +"It is very unfortunate--very unfortunate +indeed. I very much regret that you should have +been. . . ." He lowered suddenly his voice. +"But what is it--surely you are not departing, +Natalia Victorovna? You got bored waiting, +didn't you?" + +"Not in the least," Miss Haldin protested. +"Only I have been here some time, and I am +anxious to get back to my mother." + +"The time seemed long, eh? I am afraid our +worthy friend here" (Peter Ivanovitch suddenly +jerked his head sideways towards his right +shoulder and jerked it up again),--"our worthy +friend here has not the art of shortening the +moments of waiting. No, distinctly she has not +the art; and in that respect good intentions +alone count for nothing." + +The _dame de compagnie_ dropped her arms, and +the cat found itself suddenly on the ground. It +remained quite still after alighting, one hind +leg stretched backwards. Miss Haldin was +extremely indignant on behalf of the lady +companion. + +"Believe me, Peter Ivanovitch, that the moments +I have passed in the hall of this house have +been not a little interesting, and very +instructive too. They are memorable. I do not +regret the waiting, but I see that the object of +my call here can be attained without taking up +Madame de S---'s time." + +At this point I interrupted Miss Haldin. The +above relation is founded on her narrative, +which I have not so much dramatized as might be +supposed. She had rendered, with extraordinary +feeling and animation, the very accent almost of +the disciple of the old apple-woman, the +irreconcilable hater of Ministries, the +voluntary servant of the poor. Miss Haldin's +true and delicate humanity had been extremely +shocked by the uncongenial fate of her new +acquaintance, that lady companion, secretary, +whatever she was. For my own part, I was +pleased to discover in it one more obstacle to +intimacy with Madame de S---. I had a positive +abhorrence for the painted, bedizened, dead- +faced, glassy-eyed Egeria of Peter Ivanovitch. +I do not know what was her attitude to the +unseen, but I know that in the affairs of this +world she was avaricious, greedy, and +unscrupulous. It was within my knowledge that +she had been worsted in a sordid and desperate +quarrel about money matters with the family of +her late husband, the diplomatist. Some very +august personages indeed (whom in her fury she +had insisted upon scandalously involving in her +affairs) had incurred her animosity. I find it +perfectly easy to believe that she had come to +within an ace of being spirited away, for +reasons of state, into some discreet _maison de +sante_--a madhouse of sorts, to be plain. It +appears, however, that certain high-placed +personages opposed it for reasons which. . . . + +But it's no use to go into details. + +Wonder may be expressed at a man in the position +of a teacher of languages knowing all this with +such definiteness. A novelist says this and +that of his personages, and if only he knows how +to say it earnestly enough he may not be +questioned upon the inventions of his brain in +which his own belief is made sufficiently +manifest by a telling phrase, a poetic image, +the accent of emotion. Art is great! But I +have no art, and not having invented Madame de S- +--, I feel bound to explain how I came to know +so much about her. + +My informant was the Russian wife of a friend of +mine already mentioned, the professor of +Lausanne University. It was from her that I +learned the last fact of Madame de S---'s +history, with which I intend to trouble my +readers. She told me, speaking positively, as a +person who trusts her sources, of the cause of +Madame de S---'s flight from Russia, some years +before. It was neither more nor less than this: +that she became suspect to the police in +connexion with the assassination of the Emperor +Alexander. The ground of this suspicion was +either some unguarded expressions that escaped +her in public, or some talk overheard in her +salon. Overheard, we must believe, by some +guest, perhaps a friend, who hastened to play +the informer, I suppose. At any rate, the +overheard matter seemed to imply her +foreknowledge of that event, and I think she was +wise in not waiting for the investigation of +such a charge. Some of my readers may remember +a little book from her pen, published in Paris, +a mystically bad-tempered, declamatory, and +frightfully disconnected piece of writing, in +which she all but admits the foreknowledge, more +than hints at its supernatural origin, and +plainly suggests in venomous innuendoes that the +guilt of the act was not with the terrorists, +but with a palace intrigue. When I observed to +my friend, the professor's wife, that the life +of Madame de S---, with its unofficial +diplomacy, its intrigues, lawsuits, favours, +disgrace, expulsions, its atmosphere of scandal, +occultism, and charlatanism, was more fit for +the eighteenth century than for the conditions +of our own time, she assented with a smile, but +a moment after went on in a reflective tone: +"Charlatanism?--yes, in a certain measure. +Still, times are changed. There are forces now +which were non-existent in the eighteenth +century. I should not be surprised if she were +more dangerous than an Englishman would be +willing to believe. And what's more, she is +looked upon as really dangerous by certain +people--_chez nous_." + +_Chez nous_ in this connexion meant Russia in +general, and the Russian political police in +particular. The object of my digression from +the straight course of Miss Haldin's relation +(in my own words) of her visit to the Chateau +Borel, was to bring forward that statement of my +friend, the professor's wife. I wanted to bring +it forward simply to make what I have to say +presently of Mr. Razumov's presence in Geneva, a +little more credible--for this is a Russian +story for Western ears, which, as I have +observed already, are not attuned to certain +tones of cynicism and cruelty, of moral +negation, and even of moral distress already +silenced at our end of Europe. And this I state +as my excuse for having left Miss Haldin +standing, one of the little group of two women +and two men who had come together below the +terrace of the Chateau Borel. + +The knowledge which I have just stated was in my +mind when, as I have said, I interrupted Miss +Haldin. I interrupted her with the cry of +profound satisfaction-- + +"So you never saw Madame de S---, after all?" + +Miss Haldin shook her head. It was very +satisfactory to me. She had not seen Madame de +S---! That was excellent, excellent! I +welcomed the conviction that she would never +know Madame de S--- now. I could not explain +the reason of the conviction but by the +knowledge that Miss Haldin was standing face to +face with her brother's wonderful friend. I +preferred him to Madame de S--- as the companion +and guide of that young girl, abandoned to her +inexperience by the miserable end of her +brother. But, at any rate, that life now ended +had been sincere, and perhaps its thoughts might +have been lofty, its moral sufferings profound, +its last act a true sacrifice. It is not for +us, the staid lovers calmed by the possession of +a conquered liberty, to condemn without appeal +the fierceness of thwarted desire. + +I am not ashamed of the warmth of my regard for +Miss Haldin. It was, it must be admitted, an +unselfish sentiment, being its own reward. The +late Victor Haldin--in the light of that +sentiment--appeared to me not as a sinister +conspirator, but as a pure enthusiast. I did +not wish indeed to judge him, but the very fact +that he did not escape, that fact which brought +so much trouble to both his mother and his +sister, spoke to me in his favour. Meantime, in +my fear of seeing the girl surrender to the +influence of the Chateau Borel revolutionary +feminism, I was more than willing to put my +trust in that friend of the late Victor Haldin. +He was nothing but a name, you will say. +Exactly! A name! And what's more, the only +name; the only name to be found in the +correspondence between brother and sister. The +young man had turned up; they had come face to +face, and, fortunately, without the direct +interference of Madame de S---. What will come +of it ? what will she tell me presently? I was +asking myself. + +It was only natural that my thought should turn +to the young man, the bearer of the only name +uttered in all the dream-talk of a future to be +brought about by a revolution. And my thought +took the shape of asking myself why this young +man had not called upon these ladies. He had +been in Geneva for some days before Miss Haldin +heard of him first in my presence from Peter +Ivanovitch. I regretted that last's presence at +their meeting. I would rather have had it +happen somewhere out of his spectacled sight. +But I supposed that, having both these young +people there, he introduced them to each other. + +I broke the silence by beginning a question on +that point-- + +"I suppose Peter Ivanovitch. . . ." + +Miss Haldin gave vent to her indignation. Peter +Ivanovitch directly he had got his answer from +her had turned upon the _dame de compagnie_ in a +shameful manner. + +"Turned upon her?" I wondered. "What about? +For what reason? " + +"It was unheard of; it was shameful," Miss +Haldin pursued, with angry eyes. " _Il lui a +fait une scene_--like this, before strangers. +And for what? You would never guess. For some +eggs. . . . Oh!" + +I was astonished. "Eggs, did you say?" + +"For Madame de S---. That lady observes a +special diet, or something of the sort. It +seems she complained the day before to Peter +Ivanovitch that the eggs were not rightly +prepared. Peter Ivanovitch suddenly remembered +this against the poor woman, and flew out at +her. It was most astonishing. I stood as if +rooted." + +"Do you mean to say that the great feminist +allowed himself to be abusive to a woman?" I +asked. + +"Oh, not that! It was something you have no +conception of. It was an odious performance. +Imagine, he raised his hat to begin with. He +made his voice soft and deprecatory. 'Ah! you +are not kind to us--you will not deign to +remember. . . .' This sort of phrases, that +sort of tone. The poor creature was terribly +upset. Her eyes ran full of tears. She did not +know where to look. I shouldn't wonder if she +would have preferred abuse, or even a blow." + +I did not remark that very possibly she was +familiar with both on occasions when no one was +by. Miss Haldin walked by my side, her head up +in scornful and angry silence. + +"Great men have their surprising peculiarities," +I observed inanely. "Exactly like men who are +not great. But that sort of thing cannot be +kept up for ever. How did the great feminist +wind up this very characteristic episode?" + +Miss Haldin, without turning her face my way, +told me that the end was brought about by the +appearance of the interviewer, who had been +closeted with Madame de S---. + +He came up rapidly, unnoticed, lifted his hat +slightly, and paused to say in French: "The +Baroness has asked me, in case I met a lady on +my way out, to desire her to come in at once." + +After delivering this message, he hurried down +the drive. The _dame de compagnie_ flew towards +the house, and Peter Ivanovitch followed her +hastily, looking uneasy. In a moment Miss +Haldin found herself alone with the young man, +who undoubtedly must have been the new arrival +from Russia. She wondered whether her brother's +friend had not already guessed who she was. + +I am in a position to say that, as a matter of +fact, he had guessed. It is clear to me that +Peter Ivanovitch, for some reason or other, had +refrained from alluding to these ladies' +presence in Geneva. But Razumov had guessed. +The trustful girl! Every word uttered by Haldin +lived in Razumov's memory. They were like +haunting shapes; they could not be exorcised. +The most vivid amongst them was the mention of +the sister. The girl had existed for him ever +since. But he did not recognize her at once. +Coming up with Peter Ivanovitch, he did observe +her; their eyes had met, even. He had +responded, as no one could help responding, to +the harmonious charm of her whole person, its +strength, its grace, its tranquil frankness--and +then he had turned his gaze away. He said to +himself that all this was not for him; the +beauty of women and the friendship of men were +not for him. He accepted that feeling with a +purposeful sternness, and tried to pass on. It +was only her outstretched hand which brought +about the recognition. It stands recorded in +the pages of his self-confession, that it nearly +suffocated him physically with an emotional +reaction of hate and dismay, as though her +appearance had been a piece of accomplished +treachery. + +He faced about. The considerable elevation of +the terrace concealed them from anyone lingering +in the doorway of the house; and even from the +upstairs windows they could not have been seen. +Through the thickets run wild, and the trees of +the gently sloping grounds, he had cold, placid +glimpses of the lake. A moment of perfect +privacy had been vouchsafed to them at this +juncture. I wondered to myself what use they +had made of that fortunate circumstance. + +"Did you have time for more than a few words?" I +asked. + +That animation with which she had related to me +the incidents of her visit to the Chateau Borel +had left her completely. Strolling by my side, +she looked straight before her; but I noticed a +little colour on her cheek. She did not answer +me. + +After some little time I observed that they +could not have hoped to remain forgotten for +very long, unless the other two had discovered +Madame de S--- swooning with fatigue, perhaps, +or in a state of morbid exaltation after the +long interview. Either would require their +devoted ministrations. I could depict to myself +Peter Ivanovitch rushing busily out of the house +again, bareheaded, perhaps, and on across the +terrace with his swinging gait, the black skirts +of the frock-coat floating clear of his stout +light grey legs. I confess to having looked +upon these young people as the quarry of the +"heroic fugitive." I had the notion that they +would not be allowed to escape capture. But of +that I said nothing to Miss Haldin, only as she +still remained uncommunicative, I pressed her a +little. + +"Well--but you can tell me at least your +impression." + +She turned her head to look at me, and turned +away again. + +"Impression?" she repeated slowly, almost +dreamily; then in a quicker tone-- + +"He seems to be a man who has suffered more from +his thoughts than from evil fortune." + +"From his thoughts, you say?" + +"And that is natural enough in a Russian," she +took me up." In a young Russian; so many of +them are unfit for action, and yet unable to +rest." + +"And you think he is that sort of man?" + +"No, I do not judge him. How could I, so +suddenly? You asked for my impression--I +explain my impression. I--I--don't know the +world, nor yet the people in it; I have been too +solitary--I am too young to trust my own +opinions." + +"Trust your instinct," I advised her. "Most +women trust to that, and make no worse mistakes +than men. In this case you have your brother's +letter to help you" + +She drew a deep breath like a light sigh. +"Unstained, lofty, and solitary existences," she +quoted as if to herself. But I caught the +wistful murmur distinctly. + +"High praise, "I whispered to her.'' + +"The highest possible." + +"So high that, like the award of happiness, it +is more fit to come only at the end of a life. +But still no common or altogether unworthy +personality could have suggested such a +confident exaggeration of praise and. . . ." + +"Ah!" She interrupted me ardently. "And if you +had only known the heart from which that +judgment has come!" + +She ceased on that note, and for a space I +reflected on the character of the words which I +perceived very well must tip the scale of the +girl's feelings in that young man's favour. +They had not the sound of a casual utterance. +Vague they were to my Western mind and to my +Western sentiment, but I could not forget that, +standing by Miss Haldin's side, I was like a +traveller in a strange country. It had also +become clear to me that Miss Haldin was +unwilling to enter into the details of the only +material part of their visit to the Chateau +Borel. But I was not hurt. Somehow I didn't +feel it to be a want of confidence. It was some +other difficulty--a difficulty I could not +resent. And it was without the slightest +resentment that I said-- + +"Very well. But on that high ground, which I +will not dispute, you, like anyone else in such +circumstances, you must have made for yourself a +representation of that exceptional friend, a +mental image of him, and--please tell me--you +were not disappointed?" + +"What do you mean? His personal appearance?" + +"I don't mean precisely his good looks, or +otherwise." + +We turned at the end of the alley and made a few +steps without looking at each other. + +"His appearance is not ordinary," said Miss +Haldin at last. + +"No, I should have thought not--from the little +you've said of your first impression. After +all, one has to fall back on that word. +Impression! What I mean is that something +indescribable which is likely to mark a 'not +ordinary' person." + +I perceived that she was not listening. There +was no mistaking her expression; and once more I +had the sense of being out of it--not because of +my age, which at any rate could draw inferences-- +but altogether out of it, on another plane +whence I could only watch her from afar. And so +ceasing to speak I watched her stepping out by +my side. + +"No, she exclaimed suddenly, "I could not have +been disappointed with a man of such strong +feeling." + +"Aha! Strong feeling, "I muttered, thinking to +myself censoriously: like this, at once, all in +a moment! + +"What did you say?" inquired Miss Haldin +innocently. + +"Oh, nothing. I beg your pardon. Strong +feeling. I am not surprised." + +"And you don't know how abruptly I behaved to +him!" she cried remorsefully. + +I suppose I must have appeared surprised, for, +looking at me with a still more heightened +colour, she said she was ashamed to admit that +she had not been sufficiently collected; she had +failed to control her words and actions as the +situation demanded. She lost the fortitude +worthy of both the men, the dead and the living; +the fortitude which should have been the note of +the meeting of Victor Haldin's sister with +Victor Haldin's only known friend. He was +looking at her keenly, but said nothing, and she +was--she confessed--painfully affected by his +want of comprehension. All she could say was: +"You are Mr. Razumov." A slight frown passed +over his forehead. After a short, watchful +pause, he made a little bow of assent, and +waited. + +At the thought that she had before her the man +so highly regarded by her brother, the man who +had known his value, spoken to him, understood +him, had listened to his confidences, perhaps +had encouraged him--her lips trembled, her eyes +ran full of tears; she put out her hand, made a +step towards him impulsively, saying with an +effort to restrain her emotion, "Can't you guess +who I am?" He did not take the proffered hand. +He even recoiled a pace, and Miss Haldin +imagined that he was unpleasantly affected. +Miss Haldin excused him, directing her +displeasure at herself. She had behaved +unworthily, like an emotional French girl. A +manifestation of that kind could not be welcomed +by a man of stern, self-contained character. + +He must have been stern indeed, or perhaps very +timid with women, not to respond in a more human +way to the advances of a girl like Nathalie +Haldin--I thought to myself. Those lofty and +solitary existences (I remembered the words +suddenly) make a young man shy and an old man +savage--often. + +"Well," I encouraged Miss Haldin to proceed. + +She was still very dissatisfied with herself. + +"I went from bad to worse," she said, with an +air of discouragement very foreign to her. "I +did everything foolish except actually bursting +into tears. I am thankful to say I did not do +that. But I was unable to speak for quite a +long time." + +She had stood before him, speechless, swallowing +her sobs, and when she managed at last to utter +something, it was only her brother's name-- +"Victor--Victor Haldin!" she gasped out, and +again her voice failed her. + +"Of course," she commented to me, "this +distressed him. He was quite overcome. I have +told you my opinion that he is a man of deep +feeling--it is impossible to doubt it. You +should have seen his face. He positively +reeled. He leaned against the wall of the +terrace. Their friendship must have been the +very brotherhood of souls! I was grateful to +him for that emotion, which made me feel less +ashamed of my own lack of self-control. Of +course I had regained the power of speech at +once, almost. All this lasted not more than a +few seconds. 'I am his sister,' I said. 'Maybe +you have heard of me.'" + +" And had he?" I interrupted. + +"I don't know. How could it have been +otherwise? And yet. . . . But what does that +matter? I stood there before him, near enough +to be touched and surely not looking like an +impostor. All I know is, that he put out both +his hands then to me, I may say flung them out +at me, with the greatest readiness and warmth, +and that I seized and pressed them, feeling that +I was finding again a little of what I thought +was lost to me for ever, with the loss of my +brother--some of that hope, inspiration, and +support which I used to get from my dear dead. . +. ." + +I understood quite well what she meant. We +strolled on slowly. I refrained from looking at +her. And it was as if answering my own thoughts +that I murmured-- + +"No doubt it was a great friendship--as you say. + And that young man ended by welcoming your +name, so to speak, with both hands. After that, +of course, you would understand each other. +Yes, you would understand each other quickly." + +It was a moment before I heard her voice. + +"Mr. Razumov seems to be a man of few words. A +reserved man--even when he is strongly moved." + +Unable to forget---or even to forgive--the bass- +toned expansiveness of Peter Ivanovitch, the +Archpatron of revolutionary parties, I said that +I took this for a favourable trait of character. + It was associated with sincerity--in my mind. + +"And, besides, we had not much time," she added. + +"No, you would not have, of course." My +suspicion and even dread of the feminist and his +Egeria was so ineradicable that I could not help +asking with real anxiety, which I made smiling-- + +"But you escaped all right?" + +She understood me, and smiled too, at my +uneasiness. + +"Oh yes! I escaped, if you like to call it +that. I walked away quickly. There was no need +to run. I am neither frightened nor yet +fascinated, like that poor woman who received me +so strangely." + +"And Mr.--Mr. Razumov. . .?" + +"He remained there, of course. I suppose he +went into the house after I left him. You +remember that he came here strongly recommended +to Peter Ivanovitch--possibly entrusted with +important messages for him." + +"Ah yes! From that priest who. . . ." + +"Father Zosim--yes. Or from others, perhaps." + +"You left him, then. But have you seen him +since, may I ask?" + +For some time Miss Haldin made no answer to this +very direct question, then-- + +"I have been expecting to see him here to-day," +she said quietly. + +"You have! Do you meet, then, in this garden? +In that case I had better leave you at once." + +"No, why leave me? And we don't meet in this +garden. I have not seen Mr. Razumov since that +first time. Not once. But I have been +expecting him. . . ." + +She paused. I wondered to myself why that young +revolutionist should show so little alacrity. + +"Before we parted I told Mr. Razumov that I +walked here for an hour every day at this time. +I could not explain to him then why I did not +ask him to come and see us at once. Mother must +be prepared for such a visit. And then, you +see, I do not know myself what Mr. Razumov has +to tell us. He, too, must be told first how it +is with poor mother. All these thoughts flashed +through my mind at once. So I told him +hurriedly that there was a reason why I could +not ask him to see us at home, but that I was in +the habit of walking here. . . . This is a +public place, but there are never many people +about at this hour. I thought it would do very +well. And it is so near our apartments. I +don't like to be very far away from mother. Our +servant knows where I am in case I should be +wanted suddenly." + +"Yes. It is very convenient from that point of +view," I agreed. + +In fact, I thought the Bastions a very +convenient place, since the girl did not think +it prudent as yet to introduce that young man to +her mother. It was here, then, I thought, +looking round at that plot of ground of +deplorable banality, that their acquaintance +will begin and go on in the exchange of generous +indignations and of extreme sentiments, too +poignant, perhaps, for a non-Russian mind to +conceive. I saw these two, escaped out of four +score of millions of human beings ground between +the upper and nether millstone, walking under +these trees, their young heads close together. +Yes, an excellent place to stroll and talk in. +It even occurred to me, while we turned once +more away from the wide iron gates, that when +tired they would have plenty of accommodation to +rest themselves. There was a quantity of tables +and chairs displayed between the restaurant +chalet and the bandstand, a whole raft of +painted deals spread out under the trees. In +the very middle of it I observed a solitary +Swiss couple, whose fate was made secure from +the cradle to the grave by the perfected +mechanism of democratic institutions in a +republic that could almost be held in the palm +of ones hand. The man, colourlessly uncouth, +was drinking beer out of a glittering glass; the +woman, rustic and placid, leaning back in the +rough chair, gazed idly around. + +There is little logic to be expected on this +earth, not only in the matter of thought, but +also of sentiment. I was surprised to discover +myself displeased with that unknown young man. +A week had gone by since they met. Was he +callous, or shy, or very stupid? I could not +make it out. + +"Do you think," I asked Miss Haldin, after we +had gone some distance up the great alley, "that +Mr Razumov understood your intention? " + +"Understood what I meant?" she wondered. "He +was greatly moved. That I know! In my own +agitation I could see it. But I spoke +distinctly. He heard me; he seemed, indeed, to +hang on my words. . ." + +Unconsciously she had hastened her pace. Her +utterance, too, became quicker. + +I waited a little before I observed thoughtfully- +- + +"And yet he allowed all these days to pass." + +"How can we tell what work he may have to do +here? He is not an idler travelling for his +pleasure. His time may not be his own--nor yet +his thoughts, perhaps." + +She slowed her pace suddenly, and in a lowered +voice added-- + +"Or his very life"--then paused and stood still +"For all I know, he may have had to leave Geneva +the very day he saw me." + +"Without telling you!" I exclaimed +incredulously. + +"I did not give him time. I left him quite +abruptly. I behaved emotionally to the end. I +am sorry for it. Even if I had given him the +opportunity he would have been justified in +taking me for a person not to be trusted. An +emotional, tearful girl is not a person to +confide in. But even if he has left Geneva for +a time, I am confident that we shall meet again." + +"Ah! you are confident. . . . I dare say. But +on what ground?" + +"Because I've told him that I was in great need +of some one, a fellow-countryman, a fellow- +believer, to whom I could give my confidence in +a certain matter." + +"I see. I don't ask you what answer he made. I +confess that this is good ground for your belief +in Mr. Razumov's appearance before long. But he +has not turned up to-day?" + +"No," she said quietly, "not to-day;" and we +stood for a time in silence, like people that +have nothing more to say to each other and let +their thoughts run widely asunder before their +bodies go off their different ways. Miss Haldin +glanced at the watch on her wrist and made a +brusque movement. She had already overstayed +her time, it seemed. + +"I don't like to be away from mother," she +murmured, shaking her head. "It is not that she +is very ill now. But somehow when I am not with +her I am more uneasy than ever." + +Mrs. Haldin had not made the slightest allusion +to her son for the last week or more. She sat, +as usual, in the arm-chair by the window, +looking out silently on that hopeless stretch of +the Boulevard des Philosophes. When she spoke, +a few lifeless words, it was of indifferent, +trivial things. + +"For anyone who knows what the poor soul is +thinking of, that sort of talk is more painful +than her silence. But that is bad too; I can +hardly endure it, and I dare not break it. + +Miss Haldin sighed, refastening a button of her +glove which had come undone. I knew well enough +what a hard time of it she must be having. The +stress, its causes, its nature, would have +undermined the health of an Occidental girl; but +Russian natures have a singular power of +resistance against the unfair strains of life. +Straight and supple, with a short jacket open on +her black dress, which made her figure appear +more slender and her fresh but colourless face +more pale, she compelled my wonder and +admiration. + +"I can't stay a moment longer. You ought to +come soon to see mother. You know she calls you +'_L'ami._' It is an excellent name, and she +really means it. And now _au revoir_; I must +run." + +She glanced vaguely down the broad walk--the +hand she put out to me eluded my grasp by an +unexpected upward movement, and rested upon my +shoulder. Her red lips were slightly parted, +not in a smile, however, but expressing a sort +of startled pleasure. She gazed towards the +gates and said quickly, with a gasp-- + +"There! I knew it. Here he comes!" + +I understood that she must mean Mr. Razumov. A +young man was walking up the alley, without +haste. His clothes were some dull shade of +brown, and he carried a stick. When my eyes +first fell on him, his head was hanging on his +breast as if in deep thought. While I was +looking at him he raised it sharply, and at once +stopped. I am certain he did, but that pause +was nothing more perceptible than a faltering +check in his gait, instantaneously overcome. +Then he continued his approach, looking at us +steadily. Miss Haldin signed to me to remain, +and advanced a step or two to meet him. + +I turned my head away from that meeting, and did +not look at them again till I heard Miss +Haldin's voice uttering his name in the way of +introduction. Mr. Razumov was informed, in a +warm, low tone, that, besides being a wonderful +teacher, I was a great support "in our sorrow +and distress." + +Of course I was described also as an Englishman. + Miss Haldin spoke rapidly, faster than I have +ever heard her speak, and that by contrast made +the quietness of her eyes more expressive. + +"I have given him my confidence," she added, +looking all the time at Mr. Razumov. That young +man did, indeed, rest his gaze on Miss Haldin, +but certainly did not look into her eyes which +were so ready for him. Afterwards he glanced +backwards and forwards at us both, while the +faint commencement of a forced smile, followed +by the suspicion of a frown, vanished one after +another; I detected them, though neither could +have been noticed by a person less intensely +bent upon divining him than myself. I don't +know what Nathalie Haldin had observed, but my +attention seized the very shades of these +movements. The attempted smile was given up, +the incipient frown was checked, and smoothed so +that there should be no sign; but I imagined him +exclaiming inwardly-- + +"Her confidence! To this elderly person--this +foreigner!" + +I imagined this because he looked foreign enough +to me. I was upon the whole favourably +impressed. He had an air of intelligence and +even some distinction quite above the average of +the students and other inhabitants of the +_Petite Russie_. His features were more decided +than in the generality of Russian faces; he had +a line of the jaw, a clean-shaven, sallow cheek; +his nose was a ridge, and not a mere +protuberance. He wore the hat well down over +his eyes, his dark hair curled low on the nape +of his neck; in the ill-fitting brown clothes +there were sturdy limbs; a slight stoop brought +out a satisfactory breadth of shoulders. Upon +the whole I was not disappointed. Studious-- +robust--shy. + +Before Miss Haldin had ceased speaking I felt +the grip of his hand on mine, a muscular, firm +grip, but unexpectedly hot and dry. Not a word +or even a mutter assisted this short and arid +handshake. + +I intended to leave them to themselves, but Miss +Haldin touched me lightly on the forearm with a +significant contact, conveying a distinct wish. +Let him smile who likes, but I was only too +ready to stay near Nathalie Haldin, and I am not +ashamed to say that it was no smiling matter to +me. I stayed, not as a youth would have stayed, +uplifted, as it were poised in the air, but +soberly, with my feet on the ground and my mind +trying to penetrate her intention. She had +turned to Razumov. + +"Well. This is the place. Yes, it is here that +I meant you to come. I have been walking every +day. . . . Don't excuse yourself--I understand. + I am grateful to you for coming to-day, but all +the same I cannot stay now. It is impossible. +I must hurry off home. Yes, even with you +standing before me, I must run off. I have been +too long away. . . . You know how it is?" + +These last words were addressed to me. I +noticed that Mr. Razumov passed the tip of his +tongue over his lips just as a parched, feverish +man might do. He took her hand in its black +glove, which closed on his, and held it-- +detained it quite visibly to me against a +drawing-back movement. + +"Thank you once more for--for understanding me," +she went on warmly. He interrupted her with a +certain effect of roughness. I didn't like him +speaking to this frank creature so much from +under the brim of his hat, as it were. And he +produced a faint, rasping voice quite like a man +with a parched throat. + +"What is there to thank me for? Understand you? +. . . How did I understand you? . . . You had +better know that I understand nothing. I was +aware that you wanted to see me in this garden. +I could not come before. I was hindered. And +even to-day, you see. . . late." + +She still held his hand. + +"I can, at any rate, thank you for not +dismissing me from your mind as a weak, +emotional girl. No doubt I want sustaining. I +am very ignorant. But I can be trusted. Indeed +I can!" + +"You are ignorant," he repeated thoughtfully. +He had raised his head, and was looking straight +into her face now, while she held his hand. +They stood like this for a long moment. She +released his hand. + +"Yes. You did come late. It was good of you to +come on the chance of me having loitered beyond +my time. I was talking with this good friend +here. I was talking of you. Yes, Kirylo +Sidorovitch, of you. He was with me when I +first heard of your being here in Geneva. He +can tell you what comfort it was to my +bewildered spirit to hear that news. He knew I +meant to seek you out. It was the only object +of my accepting the invitation of Peter +Ivanovitch. . . . + +"Peter Ivanovitch talked to you of me," he +interrupted, in that wavering, hoarse voice +which suggested a horribly dry throat. + +"Very little. Just told me your name, and that +you had arrived here. Why should I have asked +for more? What could he have told me that I did +not know already from my brother's letter? +Three lines! And how much they meant to me! I +will show them to you one day, Kirylo +Sidorovitch. But now I must go. The first talk +between us cannot be a matter of five minutes, +so we had better not begin. . . ." + +I had been standing a little aside, seeing them +both in profile. At that moment it occurred to +me that Mr. Razumov's face was older than his +age. + +"If mother"--the girl had turned suddenly to me +" were to wake up in my absence (so much longer +than usual) she would perhaps question me. She +seems to miss me more, you know, of late. She +would want to know what delayed me--and, you +see, it would be painful for me to dissemble +before her." + +I understood the point very well. For the same +reason she checked what seemed to be on Mr. +Razumov's part a movement to accompany her. + +"No! No! I go alone, but meet me here as soon +as possible." Then to me in a lower, +significant tone-- + +"Mother may be sitting at the window at this +moment, looking down the street. She must not +know anything of Mr. Razumov's presence here +till--till something is arranged." She paused +before she added a little louder, but still +speaking to me, "Mr. Razumov does not quite +understand my difficulty, but you know what it +is." + + +V + + +With a quick inclination of the head for us +both, and an earnest, friendly glance at the +young man, Miss Haldin left us covering our +heads and looking after her straight, supple +figure receding rapidly. Her walk was not that +hybrid and uncertain gliding affected by some +women, but a frank, strong, healthy movement +forward. Rapidly she increased the distance-- +disappeared with suddenness at last. I +discovered only then that Mr. Razumov, after +ramming his hat well over his brow, was looking +me over from head to foot. I dare say I was a +very unexpected fact for that young Russian to +stumble upon. I caught in his physiognomy, in +his whole bearing, an expression compounded of +curiosity and scorn, tempered by alarm--as +though he had been holding his breath while I +was not looking. But his eyes met mine with a +gaze direct enough. I saw then for the first +time that they were of a clear brown colour and +fringed with thick black eyelashes. They were +the youngest feature of his face. Not at all +unpleasant eyes. He swayed slightly, leaning on +his stick and generally hung in the wind. It +flashed upon me that in leaving us together Miss +Haldin had an intention--that something was +entrusted to me, since, by a mere accident I had +been found at hand. On this assumed ground I +put all possible friendliness into my manner. I +cast about for some right thing to say, and +suddenly in Miss Haldin's last words I perceived +the clue to the nature of my mission. + +"No," I said gravely, if with a smile, "you +cannot be expected to understand." + +His clean-shaven lip quivered ever so little +before he said, as if wickedly amused-- + +"But haven't you heard just now? I was thanked +by that young lady for understanding so well." + +I looked at him rather hard. Was there a hidden +and inexplicable sneer in this retort? No. It +was not that. It might have been resentment. +Yes. But what had he to resent? He looked as +though he had not slept very well of late. I +could almost feel on me the weight of his +unrefreshed, motionless stare, the stare of a +man who lies unwinking in the dark, angrily +passive in the toils of disastrous thoughts. +Now, when I know how true it was, I can honestly +affirm that this was the effect he produced on +me. It was painful in a curiously indefinite +way--for, of course, the definition comes to me +now while I sit writing in the fullness of my +knowledge. But this is what the effect was at +that time of absolute ignorance. This new sort +of uneasiness which he seemed to be forcing upon +me I attempted to put down by assuming a +conversational, easy familiarity. + +"That extremely charming and essentially +admirable young girl (I am--as you see--old +enough to be frank in my expressions) was +referring to her own feelings. Surely you must +have understood that much?" + +He made such a brusque movement that he even +tottered a little. + +"Must understand this! Not expected to +understand that! I may have other things to do. + And the girl is charming and admirable. Well-- +and if she is! I suppose I can see that for +myself." + +This sally would have been insulting if his +voice had not been practically extinct, dried up +in his throat; and the rustling effort of his +speech too painful to give real offence. + +I remained silent, checked between the obvious +fact and the subtle impression. It was open to +me to leave him there and then; but the sense of +having been entrusted with a mission, the +suggestion of Miss Haldin's last glance, was +strong upon me. After a moment of reflection I +said-- + +"Shall we walk together a little?" + +He shrugged his shoulders so violently that he +tottered again. I saw it out of the corner of +my eye as I moved on, with him at my elbow. He +had fallen back a little and was practically out +of my sight, unless I turned my head to look at +him. I did not wish to indispose him still +further by an appearance of marked curiosity. +It might have been distasteful to such a young +and secret refugee from under the pestilential +shadow hiding the true, kindly face of his land. + And the shadow, the attendant of his +countrymen, stretching across the middle of +Europe, was lying on him too, darkening his +figure to my mental vision. "Without doubt," I +said to myself, "he seems a sombre, even a +desperate revolutionist; but he is young, he may +be unselfish and humane, capable of compassion, +of. . . ." + +I heard him clear gratingly his parched throat, +and became all attention. + +"This is beyond everything," were his first +words. "It is beyond everything! I find you +here, for no reason that I can understand, in +possession of something I cannot be expected to +understand! A confidant! A foreigner! Talking +about an admirable Russian girl. Is the +admirable girl a fool, I begin to wonder? What +are you at? What is your object?" + +He was barely audible, as if his throat had no +more resonance than a dry rag, a piece of +tinder. It was so pitiful that I found it +extremely easy to control my indignation. + +"When you have lived a little longer, Mr. +Razumov, you will discover that no woman is an +absolute fool. I am not a feminist, like that +illustrious author, Peter Ivanovitch, who, to +say the truth, is not a little suspect to me. . +. ." + +He interrupted me, in a surprising note of +whispering astonishment. + +"Suspect to you! Peter Ivanovitch suspect to +you! To you! . . ." + +"Yes, in a certain aspect he is," I said, +dismissing my remark lightly. "As I was saying, +Mr. Razumov, when you have lived long enough, +you will learn to discriminate between the noble +trustfulness of a nature foreign to every +meanness and the flattered credulity of some +women; though even the credulous, silly as they +may be, unhappy as they are sure to be, are +never absolute fools. It is my belief that no +woman is ever completely deceived. Those that +are lost leap into the abyss with their eyes +open, if all the truth were known." + +"Upon my word," he cried at my elbow, "what is +it to me whether women are fools or lunatics? I +really don't care what you think of them. I--I +am not interested in them. I let them be. I am +not a young man in a novel. How do you know +that I want to learn anything about women? . . . + What is the meaning of all this?" + +"The object, you mean, of this conversation, +which I admit I have forced upon you in a +measure." + +"Forced! Object!" he repeated, still keeping +half a pace or so behind me. "You wanted to +talk about women, apparently. That's a subject. + But I don't care for it. I have never. . . . +In fact, I have had other subjects to think +about." + +"I am concerned here with one woman only--a +young girl--the sister of your dead friend--Miss +Haldin. Surely you can think a little of her. +What I meant from the first was that there is a +situation which you cannot be expected to +understand." + +I listened to his unsteady footfalls by my side +for the space of several strides. + +"I think that it may prepare the ground for your +next interview with Miss Haldin if I tell you of +it. I imagine that she might have had something +of the kind in her mind when she left us +together. I believe myself authorized to speak. + The peculiar situation I have alluded to has +arisen in the first grief and distress of Victor +Haldin's execution. There was something +peculiar in the circumstances of his arrest. +You no doubt know the whole truth. . . ." + +I felt my arm seized above the elbow, and next +instant found myself swung so as to face Mr. +Razumov. + +"You spring up from the ground before me with +this talk. Who the devil are you? This is not +to be borne! Why! What for? What do you know +what is or is not peculiar? What have you to do +with any confounded circumstances, or with +anything that happens in Russia, anyway?" + +He leaned on his stick with his other hand, +heavily; and when he let go my arm, I was +certain in my mind that he was hardly able to +keep on his feet. + +"Let us sit down at one of these vacant tables," +I proposed, disregarding this display of +unexpectedly profound emotion. It was not +without its effect on me, I confess. I was +sorry for him. + +"What tables? What are you talking about? Oh-- +the empty tables? The tables there. Certainly. + I will sit at one of the empty tables." + +I led him away from the path to the very centre +of the raft of deals before the _chalet_. The +Swiss couple were gone by that time. We were +alone on the raft, so to speak. Mr. Razumov +dropped into a chair, let fall his stick, and +propped on his elbows, his head between his +hands, stared at me persistently, openly, and +continuously, while I signalled the waiter and +ordered some beer. I could not quarrel with +this silent inspection very well, because, truth +to tell, I felt somewhat guilty of having been +sprung on him with some abruptness--of having +"sprung from the ground," as he expressed it. + +While waiting to be served I mentioned that, +born from parents settled in St. Petersburg, I +had acquired the language as a child. The town +I did not remember, having left it for good as a +boy of nine, but in later years I had renewed my +acquaintance with the language. He listened, +without as much as moving his eyes the least +little bit. He had to change his position when +the beer came, and the instant draining of his +glass revived him. He leaned back in his chair +and, folding his arms across his chest, +continued to stare at me squarely. It occurred +to me that his clean-shaven, almost swarthy face +was really of the very mobile sort, and that the +absolute stillness of it was the acquired habit +of a revolutionist, of a, conspirator +everlastingly on his guard against self-betrayal +in a world of secret spies. + +"But you are an Englishman--a teacher of English +literature," he murmured, in a voice that was no +longer issuing from a parched throat. "I have +heard of you. People told me you have lived +here for years." + +"Quite true. More than twenty years. And I +have been assisting Miss Haldin with her English +studies." + +"You have been reading English poetry with her," +he said, immovable now, like another man +altogether, a complete stranger to the man of +the heavy and uncertain footfalls a little while +ago--at my elbow. + +"Yes, English poetry," I said. " But the +trouble of which I speak was caused by an +English newspaper." + +He continued to stare at me. I don't think he +was aware that the story of the midnight arrest +had been ferreted out by an English journalist +and given to the world. When I explained this +to him he muttered contemptuously, "It may have +been altogether a lie." + +"I should think you are the best judge of that," +I retorted, a little disconcerted. "I must +confess that to me it looks to be true in the +main." + +"How can you tell truth from lies?" he queried +in his new, immovable manner. + +"I don't know how you do it in Russia," I began, +rather nettled by his attitude. He interrupted +me. + +"In Russia, and in general everywhere--in a +newspaper, for instance. The colour of the ink +and the shapes of the letters are the same." + +"Well, there are other trifles one can go by. +The character of the publication, the general +verisimilitude of the news, the consideration of +the motive, and so on. I don't trust blindly +the accuracy of special correspondents--but why +should this one have gone to the trouble of +concocting a circumstantial falsehood on a +matter of no importance to the world?" + +"That's what it is," he grumbled. "What's going +on with us is of no importance--a mere +sensational story to amuse the readers of the +papers--the superior contemptuous Europe. It is +hateful to think of. But let them wait a bit!" + +He broke off on this sort of threat addressed to +the western world. Disregarding the anger in +his stare, I pointed out that whether the +journalist was well- or ill-informed, the +concern of the friends of these ladies was with +the effect the few lines of print in question +had produced--the effect alone. And surely he +must be counted as one of the friends--if only +for the sake of his late comrade and intimate +fellow-revolutionist. At that point I thought +he was going to speak vehemently; but he only +astounded me by the convulsive start of his +whole body. He restrained himself, folded his +loosened arms tighter across his chest, and sat +back with a smile in which there was a twitch of +scorn and malice. + +"Yes, a comrade and an intimate. . . . Very +well," he said. + +"I ventured to speak to you on that assumption. +And I cannot be mistaken. I was present when +Peter Ivanovitch announced your arrival here to +Miss Haldin, and I saw her relief and +thankfulness when your name was mentioned. +Afterwards she showed me her brother's letter, +and read out the few words in which he alludes +to you. What else but a friend could you have +been?" + +"Obviously. That's perfectly well known. A +friend. Quite correct . . . . Go on. You were +talking of some effect." + +I said to myself: "He puts on the callousness +of a stern revolutionist, the insensibility to +common emotions of a man devoted to a +destructive idea. He is young, and his +sincerity assumes a pose before a stranger, a +foreigner, an old man. Youth must assert +itself. . . . As concisely as possible I +exposed to him the state of mind poor Mrs. +Haldin had been thrown into by the news of her +son's untimely end. + +He listened--I felt it--with profound attention. + His level stare deflected gradually downwards, +left my face, and rested at last on the ground +at his feet. + +"You can enter into the sister's feelings. As +you said, I have only read a little English +poetry with her, and I won't make myself +ridiculous in your eyes by trying to speak of +her. But you have seen her. She is one of +these rare human beings that do not want +explaining. At least I think so. They had only +that son, that brother, for a link with the +wider world, with the future. The very +groundwork of active existence for Nathalie +Haldin is gone with him. Can you wonder then +that she turns with eagerness to the only man +her brother mentions in his letters. Your name +is a sort of legacy." + +"What could he have written of me?" he cried, in +a low, exasperated tone. + +"Only a few words. It is not for me to repeat +them to you, Mr. Razumov; but you may believe my +assertion that these words are forcible enough +to make both his mother and his sister believe +implicitly in the worth of your judgment and in +the truth of anything you may have to say to +them. It's impossible for you now to pass them +by like strangers." + +I paused, and for a moment sat listening to the +footsteps of the few people passing up and down +the broad central walk. While I was speaking +his head had sunk upon his breast above his +folded arms. He raised it sharply. + +"Must I go then and lie to that old woman!" + +It was not anger; it was something else, +something more poignant, and not so simple. I +was aware of it sympathetically, while I was +profoundly concerned at the nature of that +exclamation. + +"Dear me! Won't the truth do, then? I hoped +you could have told them something consoling. I +am thinking of the poor mother now. Your Russia +_is_ a cruel country." + +He moved a little in his chair. + +"Yes," I repeated. "I thought you would have +had something authentic to tell." + +The twitching of his lips before he spoke was +curious. + +"What if it is not worth telling?" + +"Not worth--from what point of view? I don't +understand." + +"From every point of view." + +I spoke with some asperity. + +"I should think that anything which could +explain the circumstances of that midnight +arrest. . . ." + +"Reported by a journalist for the amusement of +the civilized Europe," he broke in scornfully. + +"Yes, reported. . . . But aren't they true? I +can't make out your attitude in this? Either +the man is a hero to you, or. . . ." + +He approached his face with fiercely distended +nostrils close to mine so suddenly that I had +the greatest difficulty in not starting back. + +"You ask me! I suppose it amuses you, all this. + Look here! I am a worker. I studied. Yes, I +studied very hard. There is intelligence here." + (He tapped his forehead with his finger-tips.) +"Don't you think a Russian may have sane +ambitions? Yes--I had even prospects. +Certainly! I had. And now you see me here, +abroad, everything gone, lost, sacrificed. You +see me here--and you ask! You see me, don't +you?--sitting before you." + +He threw himself back violently. I kept +outwardly calm. + +"Yes, I see you here; and I assume you are here +on account of the Haldin affair?" + +His manner changed. + +"You call it the Haldin affair--do you?" he +observed indifferently. + +"I have no right to ask you anything," I said. +"I wouldn't presume. But in that case the +mother and the sister of him who must be a hero +in your eyes cannot be indifferent to you. The +girl is a frank and generous creature, having +the noblest--well--illusions. You will tell her +nothing--or you will tell her everything. But +speaking now of the object with which I've +approached you first, we have to deal with the +morbid state of the mother. Perhaps something +could be invented under your authority as a cure +for a distracted and suffering soul filled with +maternal affection." + +His air of weary indifference was accentuated, I +could not help thinking, wilfully. + +"Oh yes. Something might," he mumbled +carelessly. + +He put his hand over his mouth to conceal a +yawn. When he uncovered his lips they were +smiling faintly. + +"Pardon me. This has been a long conversation, +and I have not had much sleep the last two +nights." + +This unexpected, somewhat insolent sort of +apology had the merit of being perfectly true. +He had had no nightly rest to speak of since +that day when, in the grounds of the Chateau +Borel, the sister of Victor Haldin had appeared +before him. The perplexities and the complex +terrors--I may say--of this sleeplessness are +recorded in the document I was to see later--the +document which is the main source of this +narrative. At the moment he looked to me +convincingly tired, gone slack all over, like a +man who has passed through some sort of crisis. + +"I have had a lot of urgent writing to do," he +added. + +I rose from my chair at once, and he followed my +example, without haste, a little heavily. + +"I must apologize for detaining you so long," I +said. + +"Why apologize? One can't very well go to bed +before night. And you did not detain me. I +could have left you at any time." + +I had not stayed with him to be offended. + +"I am glad you have been sufficiently +interested," I said calmly. "No merit of mine, +though--the commonest sort of regard for the +mother of your friend was enough. . . . As to +Miss Haldin herself, she at one time was +disposed to think that her brother had been +betrayed to the police in some way." + +To my great surprise Mr. Razumov sat down again +suddenly. I stared at him, and I must say that +he returned my stare without winking for quite a +considerable time. + +"In some way," he mumbled, as if he had not +understood or could not believe his ears. + +"Some unforeseen event, a sheer accident might +have done that," I went on. "Or, as she +characteristically put it to me, the folly or +weakness of some unhappy fellow-revolutionist." + +"Folly or weakness," he repeated bitterly. + +"She is a very generous creature," I observed +after a time. The man admired by Victor Haldin +fixed his eyes on the ground. I turned away and +moved off, apparently unnoticed by him. I +nourished no resentment of the moody brusqueness +with which he had treated me. The sentiment I +was carrying away from that conversation was +that of hopelessness. Before I had got fairly +clear of the raft of chairs and tables he had +rejoined me. + +"H'm, yes!" I heard him at my elbow again. +"But what do you think?" + +I did not look round even. + +"I think that you people are under a curse." + +He made no sound. It was only on the pavement +outside the gate that I heard him again. + +"I should like to walk with you a little." + +After all, I preferred this enigmatical young +man to his celebrated compatriot, the great +Peter Ivanovitch. But I saw no reason for being +particularly gracious. + +"I am going now to the railway station, by the +shortest way from here, to meet a friend from +England," I said, for all answer to his +unexpected proposal. I hoped that something +informing could come of it. As we stood on the +curbstone waiting for a tramcar to pass, he +remarked gloomily-- + +"I like what you said just now." + +"Do you?" + +We stepped off the pavement together. + +"The great problem," he went on, "is to +understand thoroughly the nature of the curse." + +"That's not very difficult, I think." + +"I think so too," he agreed with me, and his +readiness, strangely enough, did not make him +less enigmatical in the least. + +"A curse is an evil spell," I tried him again. +"And the important, the great problem, is to +find the means to break it." + +"Yes. To find the means." + +That was also an assent, but he seemed to be +thinking of something else. We had crossed +diagonally the open space before the theatre, +and began to descend a broad, sparely frequented +street in the direction of one of the smaller +bridges. He kept on by my side without speaking +for a long time. + +"You are not thinking of leaving Geneva soon?" +I asked. + +He was silent for so long that I began to think +I had been indiscreet, and should get no answer +at all. Yet on looking at him I almost believed +that my question had caused him something in the +nature of positive anguish. I detected it +mainly in the clasping of his hands, in which he +put a great force stealthily. Once, however, he +had overcome that sort of agonizing hesitation +sufficiently to tell me that he had no such +intention, he became rather communicative--at +least relatively to the former off-hand curtness +of his speeches. The tone, too, was more +amiable. He informed me that he intended to +study and also to write. He went even so far as +to tell me he had been to Stuttgart. Stuttgart, +I was aware, was one of the revolutionary +centres. The directing committee of one of the +Russian parties (I can't tell now which) was +located in that town. It was there that he got +into touch with the active work of the +revolutionists outside Russia. + +"I have never been abroad before," he explained, +in a rather inanimate voice now. Then, after a +slight hesitation, altogether different from the +agonizing irresolution my first simple question +"whether he meant to stay in Geneva" had +aroused, he made me an unexpected confidence-- + +"The fact is, I have received a sort of mission +from them." + +"Which will keep you here in Geneva?" + +"Yes. Here. In this odious. . . ." + +I was satisfied with my faculty for putting two +and two together when I drew the inference that +the mission had something to do with the person +of the great Peter Ivanovitch. But I kept that +surmise to myself naturally, and Mr. Razumov +said nothing more for some considerable time. +It was only when we were nearly on the bridge we +had been making for that he opened his lips +again, abruptly-- + +"Could I see that precious article anywhere?" + +I had to think for a moment before I saw what he +was referring to. + +"It has been reproduced in parts by the Press +here. There are files to be seen in various +places. My copy of the English newspaper I have +left with Miss Haldin, I remember, on the day +after it reached me. I was sufficiently worried +by seeing it lying on a table by the side of the +poor mother's chair for weeks. Then it +disappeared. It was a relief, I assure you." + +He had stopped short. + +"I trust," I continued, "that you will find time +to see these ladies fairly often--that you will +make time." + +He stared at me so queerly that I hardly know +how to define his aspect. I could not +understand it in this connexion at all. What +ailed him? I asked myself. What strange +thought had come into his head? What vision of +all the horrors that can be seen in his hopeless +country had come suddenly to haunt his brain? +If it were anything connected with the fate of +Victor Haldin, then I hoped earnestly he would +keep it to himself for ever. I was, to speak +plainly, so shocked that I tried to conceal my +impression by--Heaven forgive me--a smile and +the assumption of a light manner. + +"Surely," I exclaimed, "that needn't cost you a +great effort." + +He turned away from me and leaned over the +parapet of the bridge. For a moment I waited, +looking at his back. And yet, I assure you, I +was not anxious just then to look at his face +again. He did not move at all. He did not mean +to move. I walked on slowly on my way towards +the station, and at the end of the bridge I +glanced over my shoulder. No, he had not moved. + He hung well over the parapet, as if captivated +by the smooth rush of the blue water under the +arch. The current there is swift, extremely +swift; it makes some people dizzy; I myself can +never look at it for any length of time without +experiencing a dread of being suddenly snatched +away by its destructive force. Some brains +cannot resist the suggestion of irresistible +power and of headlong motion. + +It apparently had a charm for Mr. Razumov. I +left him hanging far over the parapet of the +bridge. The way he had behaved to me could not +be put down to mere boorishness. There was +something else under his scorn and impatience. +Perhaps, I thought, with sudden approach to +hidden truth, it was the same thing which had +kept him over a week, nearly ten days indeed, +from coming near Miss Haldin. But what it was I +could not tell. + + + +PART THIRD + + + +I + + +The water under the bridge ran violent and deep. + Its slightly undulating rush seemed capable of +scouring out a channel for itself through solid +granite while you looked. But had it flowed +through Razumov's breast, it could not have +washed away the accumulated bitterness the +wrecking of his life had deposited there. + +"What is the meaning of all this?" he thought, +staring downwards at the headlong flow so smooth +and clean that only the passage of a faint air- +bubble, or a thin vanishing streak of foam like +a white hair, disclosed its vertiginous +rapidity, its terrible force. "Why has that +meddlesome old Englishman blundered against me? +And what is this silly tale of a crazy old +woman?" + +He was trying to think brutally on purpose, but +he avoided any mental reference to the young +girl. "A crazy old woman," he repeated to +himself." It is a fatality! Or ought I to +despise all this as absurd? But no! I am +wrong! I can't afford to despise anything. An +absurdity may be the starting-point of the most +dangerous complications. How is one to guard +against it? It puts to rout one's intelligence. + The more intelligent one is the less one +suspects an absurdity." + +A wave of wrath choked his thoughts for a +moment. It even made his body leaning over the +parapet quiver; then he resumed his silent +thinking, like a secret dialogue with himself. +And even in that privacy, his thought had some +reservations of which he was vaguely conscious. + +"After all, this is not absurd. It is +insignificant. It is absolutely insignificant-- +absolutely. The craze of an old woman--the +fussy officiousness of a blundering elderly +Englishman. What devil put him in the way? +Haven't I treated him cavalierly enough? +Haven't I just? That's the way to treat these +meddlesome persons. Is it possible that he +still stands behind my back, waiting?" + +Razumov felt a faint chill run down his spine. +It was not fear. He was certain that it was not +fear--not fear for himself--but it was, all the +same, a sort of apprehension as if for another, +for some one he knew without being able to put a +name on the personality. But the recollection +that the officious Englishman had a train to +meet tranquillized him for a time. It was too +stupid to suppose that he should be wasting his +time in waiting. It was unnecessary to look +round and make sure. + +But what did the man mean by his extraordinary +rigmarole about the newspaper, and that crazy +old woman? he thought suddenly. It was a +damnable presumption, anyhow, something that +only an Englishman could be capable of. All +this was a sort of sport for him--the sport of +revolution--a game to look at from the height of +his superiority. And what on earth did he mean +by his exclamation, "Won't the truth do?" + +Razumov pressed his folded arms to the stone +coping over which he was leaning with force. +"Won't the truth do? The truth for the crazy +old mother of the--" + +The young man shuddered again. Yes. The truth +would do! Apparently it would do. Exactly. +And receive thanks, he thought, formulating the +unspoken words cynically. "Fall on my neck in +gratitude, no doubt," he jeered mentally. But +this mood abandoned him at once. He felt sad, +as if his heart had become empty suddenly. +"Well, I must be cautious," he concluded, coming +to himself as though his brain had been awakened +from a trance. "There is nothing, no one, too +insignificant, too absurd to be disregarded," he +thought wearily. "I must be cautious." + +Razumov pushed himself with his hand away from +the balustrade and, retracing his steps along +the bridge, walked straight to his lodgings, +where, for a few days, he led a solitary and +retired existence. He neglected Peter +Ivanovitch, to whom he was accredited by the +Stuttgart group; he never went near the refugee +revolutionists, to whom he had been introduced +on his arrival. He kept out of that world +altogether. And he felt that such conduct, +causing surprise and arousing suspicion, +contained an element of danger for himself. + +This is not to say that during these few days he +never went out. I met him several times in the +streets, but he gave me no recognition. Once, +going home after an evening call on the ladies +Haldin, I saw him crossing the dark roadway of +the Boulevard des Philosophes. He had a broad- +brimmed soft hat, and the collar of his coat +turned up. I watched him make straight for the +house, but, instead of going in, he stopped +opposite the still lighted windows, and after a +time went away down a side-street. + +I knew that he had not been to see Mrs. Haldin +yet. Miss Haldin told me he was reluctant; +moreover, the mental condition of Mrs. Haldin +had changed. She seemed to think now that her +son was living, and she perhaps awaited his +arrival. Her immobility in the great arm-chair +in front of the window had an air of expectancy, +even when the blind was down and the lamps +lighted. + +For my part, I was convinced that she had +received her death-stroke; Miss Haldin, to whom, +of course, I said nothing of my forebodings, +thought that no good would come from introducing +Mr. Razumov just then, an opinion which I shared +fully. I knew that she met the young man on the +Bastions. Once or twice I saw them strolling +slowly up the main alley. They met every day +for weeks. I avoided passing that way during +the hour when Miss Haldin took her exercise +there. One day, however, in a fit of absent- +mindedness, I entered the gates and came upon +her walking alone. I stopped to exchange a few +words. Mr. Razumov failed to turn up, and we +began to talk about him--naturally. + +"Did he tell you anything definite about your +brother's activities--his end?" I ventured to +ask. + +"No," admitted Miss Haldin, with some +hesitation. "Nothing definite." + +I understood well enough that all their +conversations must have been referred mentally +to that dead man who had brought them together. +That was unavoidable. But it was in the living +man that she was interested. That was +unavoidable too, I suppose. And as I pushed my +inquiries I discovered that he had disclosed +himself to her as a by no means conventional +revolutionist, contemptuous of catchwords, of +theories, of men too. I was rather pleased at +that--but I was a little puzzled. + +"His mind goes forward, far ahead of the +struggle," Miss Haldin explained. "Of course, +he is an actual worker too," she added. + +"And do you understand him?" I inquired point- +blank. + +She hesitated again. "Not altogether," she +murmured. + +I perceived that he had fascinated her by an +assumption of mysterious reserve. + +"Do you know what I think?" she went on, +breaking through her reserved, almost reluctant +attitude: "I think that he is observing, +studying me, to discover whether I am worthy of +his trust. . . ." + +"And that pleases you?" + +She kept mysteriously silent for a moment. Then +with energy, but in a confidential tone-- + +"I am convinced;" she declared, "that this +extraordinary man is meditating some vast plan, +some great undertaking; he is possessed by it-- +he suffers from it--and from being alone in the +world." + +"And so he's looking for helpers?" I commented, +turning away my head. + +Again there was a silence. + +"Why not?" she said at last. + +The dead brother, the dying mother, the foreign +friend, had fallen into a distant background. +But, at the same time, Peter Ivanovitch was +absolutely nowhere now. And this thought +consoled me. Yet I saw the gigantic shadow of +Russian life deepening around her like the +darkness of an advancing night. It would devour +her presently. I inquired after Mrs. Haldin-- +that other victim of the deadly shade. + +A remorseful uneasiness appeared in her frank +eyes. Mother seemed no worse, but if I only +knew what strange fancies she had sometimes! +Then Miss Haldin, glancing at her watch, +declared that she could not stay a moment +longer, and with a hasty hand-shake ran off +lightly. + +Decidedly, Mr. Razumov was not to turn up that +day. Incomprehensible youth! + +But less than an hour afterwards, while crossing +the Place Mollard, I caught sight of him +boarding a South Shore tramcar. + +"He's going to the Chateau Borel," I thought. + + +After depositing Razumov at the gates of the +Chateau Borel, some half a mile or so from the +town, the car continued its journey between two +straight lines of shady trees. Across the +roadway in the sunshine a short wooden pier +jutted into the shallow pale water, which +farther out had an intense blue tint contrasting +unpleasantly with the green orderly slopes on +the opposite shore. The whole view, with the +harbour jetties of white stone underlining +lividly the dark front of the town to the left, +and the expanding space of water to the right +with jutting promontories of no particular +character, had the uninspiring, glittering +quality of a very fresh oleograph. Razumov +turned his back on it with contempt. He thought +it odious--oppressively odious--in its +unsuggestive finish: the very perfection of +mediocrity attained at last after centuries of +toil and culture. And turning his back on it, +he faced the entrance to the grounds of the +Chateau Borel. + +The bars of the central way and the wrought-iron +arch between the dark weather-stained stone +piers were very rusty; and, though fresh tracks +of wheels ran under it, the gate looked as if it +had not been opened for a very long time. But +close against the lodge, built of the same grey +stone as the piers (its windows were all boarded +up), there was a small side entrance. The bars +of that were rusty too; it stood ajar and looked +as though it had not been closed for a long +time. In fact, Razumov, trying to push it open +a little wider, discovered it was immovable. + +"Democratic virtue. There are no thieves here, +apparently," he muttered to himself, with +displeasure. Before advancing into the grounds +he looked back sourly at an idle working man +lounging on a bench in the clean, broad avenue. +The fellow had thrown his feet up; one of his +arms hung over the low back of the public seat; +he was taking a day off in lordly repose, as if +everything in sight belonged to him. + +"Elector! Eligible! Enlightened!" Razumov +muttered to himself. "A brute, all the same." + +Razumov entered the grounds and walked fast up +the wide sweep of the drive, trying to think of +nothing--to rest his head, to rest his emotions +too. But arriving at the foot of the terrace +before the house he faltered, affected +physically by some invisible interference. The +mysteriousness of his quickened heart-beats +startled him. He stopped short and looked at +the brick wall of the terrace, faced with +shallow arches, meagrely clothed by a few +unthriving creepers, with an ill-kept narrow +flower-bed along its foot. + +"It is here!" he thought, with a sort of awe. +"It is here--on this very spot. . . ." + +He was tempted to flight at the mere +recollection of his first meeting with Nathalie +Haldin. He confessed it to himself; but he did +not move, and that not because he wished to +resist an unworthy weakness, but because he knew +that he had no place to fly to. Moreover, he +could not leave Geneva. He recognized, even +without thinking, that it was impossible. It +would have been a fatal admission, an act of +moral suicide. It would have been also +physically dangerous. Slowly he ascended the +stairs of the terrace, flanked by two stained +greenish stone urns of funereal aspect. + +Across the broad platform, where a few blades of +grass sprouted on the discoloured gravel, the +door of the house, with its ground-floor windows +shuttered, faced him, wide open. He believed +that his approach had been noted, because, +framed in the doorway, without his tall hat, +Peter Ivanovitch seemed to be waiting for his +approach. + +The ceremonious black frock-coat and the bared +head of Europe's greatest feminist accentuated +the dubiousness of his status in the house +rented by Madame de S---, his Egeria. His +aspect combined the formality of the caller with +the freedom of the proprietor. Florid and +bearded and masked by the dark blue glasses, he +met the visitor, and at once took him familiarly +under the arm. + +Razumov suppressed every sign of repugnance by +an effort which the constant necessity of +prudence had rendered almost mechanical. And +this necessity had settled his expression in a +cast of austere, almost fanatical, aloofness. +The "heroic fugitive," impressed afresh by the +severe detachment of this new arrival from +revolutionary Russia, took a conciliatory, even +a confidential tone. Madame de S--- was resting +after a bad night. She often had bad nights. +He had left his hat upstairs on the landing and +had come down to suggest to his young friend a +stroll and a good open-hearted talk in one of +the shady alleys behind the house. After +voicing this proposal, the great man glanced at +the unmoved face by his side, and could not +restrain himself from exclaiming-- + +"On my word, young man, you are an extraordinary +person." + +"I fancy you are mistaken, Peter Ivanovitch. If +I were really an extraordinary person, I would +not be here, walking with you in a garden in +Switzerland, Canton of Geneva, Commune of-- +what's the name of the Commune this place +belongs to? . . . Never mind--the heart of +democracy, anyhow. A fit heart for it; no +bigger than a parched pea and about as much +value. I am no more extraordinary than the rest +of us Russians, wandering abroad." + +But Peter Ivanovitch dissented emphatically-- + +"No! No! You are not ordinary. I have some +experience of Russians who are--well--living +abroad. You appear to me, and to others too, a +marked personality," + +"What does he mean by this?" Razumov asked +himself, turning his eyes fully on his +companion. The face of Peter Ivanovitch +expressed a meditative seriousness. + +"You don't suppose, Kirylo Sidorovitch, that I +have not heard of you from various points where +you made yourself known on your way here? I +have had letters." + +"Oh, we are great in talking about each other," +interjected Razumov, who had listened with great +attention. "Gossip, tales, suspicions, and all +that sort of thing, we know how to deal in to +perfection. Calumny, even." + +In indulging in this sally, Razumov managed very +well to conceal the feeling of anxiety which had +come over him. At the same time he was saying +to himself that there could be no earthly reason +for anxiety. He was relieved by the evident +sincerity of the protesting voice. + +"Heavens!" cried Peter Ivanovitch. "What are +you talking about? What reason can _you_ have +to. . .? + +The great exile flung up his arms as if words +had failed him in sober truth. Razumov was +satisfied. Yet he was moved to continue in the +same vein. + +"I am talking of the poisonous plants which +flourish in the world of conspirators, like evil +mushrooms in a dark cellar." + +"You are casting aspersions," remonstrated Peter +Ivanovitch, "which as far as you are concerned--- +" + +"No!" Razumov interrupted without heat. +"Indeed, I don't want to cast aspersions, but +it's just as well to have no illusions." + +Peter Ivanovitch gave him an inscrutable glance +of his dark spectacles, accompanied by a faint +smile. + +"The man who says that he has no illusions has +at least that one," he said, in a very friendly +tone. "But I see how it is, Kirylo Sidorovitch. + You aim at stoicism." + +" Stoicism! That's a pose of the Greeks and the +Romans. Let's leave it to them. We are +Russians, that is--children; that is--sincere; +that is--cynical, if you like. But that's not a +pose." + +A long silence ensued. They strolled slowly +under the lime-trees. Peter Ivanovitch had put +his hands behind his back. Razumov felt the +ungravelled ground of the deeply shaded walk +damp and as if slippery under his feet. He +asked himself, with uneasiness, if he were +saying the right things. The direction of the +conversation ought to have been more under his +control, he reflected. The great man appeared +to be reflecting on his side too. He cleared +his throat slightly, and Razumov felt at once a +painful reawakening of scorn and fear. + +"I am astonished," began Peter Ivanovitch +gently. "Supposing you are right in your +indictment, how can you raise any question of +calumny or gossip, in your case? It is +unreasonable. The fact is, Kirylo Sidorovitch, +there is not enough known of you to give hold to +gossip or even calumny. Just now you are a man +associated with a great deed, which had been +hoped for, and tried for too, without success. +People have perished for attempting that which +you and Haldin have done at last. You come to +us out of Russia, with that prestige. But you +cannot deny that you have not been +communicative, Kirylo Sidorovitch. People you +have met imparted their impressions to me; one +wrote this, another that, but I form my own +opinions. I waited to see you first. You are a +man out of the common. That's positively so. +You are close, very close. This taciturnity, +this severe brow, this something inflexible and +secret in you, inspires hopes and a little +wonder as to what you may mean. There is +something of a Brutus. . . ." + +"Pray spare me those classical allusions!" burst +out Razumov nervously. "What comes Junius +Brutus to do here? It is ridiculous! Do you +mean to say," he added sarcastically, but +lowering his voice, "that the Russian +revolutionists are all patricians and that I am +an aristocrat?" + +Peter Ivanovitch, who had been helping himself +with a few gestures, clasped his hands again +behind his back, and made a few steps, pondering. + +"Not _all_ patricians," he muttered at last. +"But you, at any rate, are one of _us_." + +Razumov smiled bitterly. + +"To be sure my name is not Gugenheimer," he said +in a sneering tone. "I am not a democratic Jew. + How can I help it? Not everybody has such +luck. I have no name, I have no. . . ." + +The European celebrity showed a great concern. +He stepped back a pace and his arms flew in +front of his person, extended, deprecatory, +almost entreating. His deep bass voice was full +of pain. + +"But, my dear young friend!" he cried. "My dear +Kirylo Sidorovitch. . . ." + +Razumov shook his head. + +"The very patronymic you are so civil as to use +when addressing me I have no legal right to--but +what of that? I don't wish to claim it. I have +no father. So much the better. But I will tell +you what: my mother's grandfather was a peasant-- +a serf. See how much I am one of _you_. I +don't want anyone to claim me. But Russia +_can't_ disown me. She cannot!" + +Razumov struck his breast with his fist. + +"I am _it_ !" + +Peter Ivanovitch walked on slowly, his head +lowered. Razumov followed, vexed with himself. +That was not the right sort of talk. All +sincerity was an imprudence. Yet one could not +renounce truth altogether, he thought, with +despair. Peter Ivanovitch, meditating behind +his dark glasses, became to him suddenly so +odious that if he had had a knife, he fancied he +could have stabbed him not only without +compunction, but with a horrible, triumphant +satisfaction. His imagination dwelt on that +atrocity in spite of himself. It was as if he +were becoming light-headed. " It is not what is +expected of me," he repeated to himself. "It is +not what is--I could get away by breaking the +fastening on the little gate I see there in the +back wall. It is a flimsy lock. Nobody in the +house seems to know he is here with me. Oh yes. + The hat! These women would discover presently +the hat he has left on the landing. They would +come upon him, lying dead in this damp, gloomy +shade--but I would be gone and no one could +ever. . .Lord! Am I going mad?" he asked +himself in a fright. + +The great man was heard--musing in an undertone. + +"H'm, yes! That--no doubt--in a certain sense. +. . ." He raised his voice. "There is a deal +of pride about you. . . ." + +The intonation of Peter Ivanovitch took on a +homely, familiar ring, acknowledging, in a way, +Razumov's claim to peasant descent. + +"A great deal of pride, brother Kirylo. And I +don't say that you have no justification for it. + I have admitted you had. I have ventured to +allude to the facts of your birth simply because +I attach no mean importance to it. You are one +of us--_un des notres_. I reflect on that with +satisfaction." + +"I attach some importance to it also," said +Razumov quietly. "I won't even deny that it may +have some importance for you too," he continued, +after a slight pause and with a touch of +grimness of which he was himself aware, with +some annoyance. He hoped it had escaped the +perception of Peter Ivanovitch. "But suppose we +talk no more about it?" + +"Well, we shall not--not after this one time, +Kirylo Sidorovitch," persisted the noble arch- +priest of Revolution. "This shall be the last +occasion. You cannot believe for a moment that +I had the slightest idea of wounding your +feelings. You are clearly a superior nature-- +that's how I read you. Quite above the common-- +h'm--susceptibilities. But the fact is, Kirylo +Sidorovitch, I don't know your susceptibilities. + Nobody, out of Russia, knows much of you--as +yet!" + +"You have been watching me?" suggested Razumov. + +"Yes." + +The great man had spoken in a tone of perfect +frankness, but as they turned their faces to +each other Razumov felt baffled by the dark +spectacles. Under their cover, Peter Ivanovitch +hinted that he had felt for some time the need +of meeting a man of energy and character, in +view of a certain project. He said nothing more +precise, however; and after some critical +remarks upon the personalities of the various +members of the committee of revolutionary action +in Stuttgart, he let the conversation lapse for +quite a long while. They paced the alley from +end to end. Razumov, silent too, raised his +eyes from time to time to cast a glance at the +back of the house. It offered no sign of being +inhabited. With its grimy, weather-stained +walls and all the windows shuttered from top to +bottom, it looked damp and gloomy and deserted. +It might very well have been haunted in +traditional style by some doleful, groaning, +futile ghost of a middle-class order. The +shades evoked, as worldly rumour had it, by +Madame de S-- to meet statesmen, diplomatists, +deputies of various European Parliaments, must +have been of another sort. Razumov had never +seen Madame de S___ but in the carriage. + +Peter Ivanovitch came out of his abstraction. + +"Two things I may say to you at once. I +believe, first, that neither a leader nor any +decisive action can come out of the dregs of a +people. Now, if you ask me what are the dregs +of a people--h'm--it would take too long to +tell. You would be surprised at the variety of +ingredients that for me go to the making up of +these dregs--of that which ought, _must_ remain +at the bottom. Moreover, such a statement might +be subject to discussion. But I can tell you +what is _not_ the dregs. On that it is +impossible for us to disagree. The peasantry of +a people is not the dregs; neither is its +highest class--well--the nobility. Reflect on +that, Kirylo Sidorovitch! I believe you are +well fitted for reflection. Everything in a +people that is not genuine, not its own by +origin or development, is--well--dirt! +Intelligence in the wrong place is that. +Foreign-bred doctrines are that. Dirt! Dregs! +The second thing I would offer to your +meditation is this: that for us at this moment +there yawns a chasm between the past and the +future. It can never be bridged by foreign +liberalism. All attempts at it are either folly +or cheating. Bridged it can never be! It has +to be filled up." + +A sort of sinister jocularity had crept into the +tones of the burly feminist. He seized +Razumov's arm above the elbow, and gave it a +slight shake. + +"Do you understand, enigmatical young man? It +has got to be just filled up." + +Razumov kept an unmoved countenance. + +"Don't you think that I have already gone beyond +meditation on that subject?" he said, freeing +his arm by a quiet movement which increased the +distance a little between himself and Peter +Ivanovitch, as they went on strolling abreast. +And he added that surely whole cartloads of +words and theories could never fill that chasm. +No meditation was necessary. A sacrifice of +many lives could alone-- He fell silent without +finishing the phrase. + +Peter Ivanovitch inclined his big hairy head +slowly. After a moment he proposed that they +should go and see if Madame de S-- was now +visible. + +"We shall get some tea," he said, turning out of +the shaded gloomy walk with a brisker step. + +The lady companion had been on the look out. +Her dark skirt whisked into the doorway as the +two men came in sight round the corner. She ran +off somewhere altogether, and had disappeared +when they entered the hall. In the crude light +falling from the dusty glass skylight upon the +black and white tessellated floor, covered with +muddy tracks, their footsteps echoed faintly. +The great feminist led the way up the stairs. +On the balustrade of the first-floor landing a +shiny tall hat reposed, rim upwards, opposite +the double door of the drawing-room, haunted, it +was said, by evoked ghosts, and frequented, it +was to be supposed, by fugitive revolutionists. +The cracked white paint of the panels, the +tarnished gilt of the mouldings, permitted one +to imagine nothing but dust and emptiness +within. Before turning the massive brass +handle, Peter Ivanovitch gave his young +companion a sharp, partly critical, partly +preparatory glance. + +"No one is perfect," he murmured discreetly. +Thus, the possessor of a rare jewel might, +before opening the casket, warn the profane that +no gem perhaps is flawless. + +He remained with his hand on the door-handle so +long that Razumov assented by a moody "No." + +"Perfection itself would not produce that +effect," pursued Peter Ivanovitch, "in a world +not meant for it. But you shall find there a +mind--no!--the quintessence of feminine +intuition which will understand any perplexity +you may be suffering from by the irresistible, +enlightening force of sympathy. Nothing can +remain obscure before that--that--inspired, yes, +inspired penetration, this true light of +femininity." + +The gaze of the dark spectacles in its glossy +steadfastness gave his face an air of absolute +conviction. Razumov felt a momentary shrinking +before that closed door. + +"Penetration? Light," he stammered out. "Do +you mean some sort of thought-reading?" + +Peter Ivanovitch seemed shocked. + +"I mean something utterly different," he +retorted, with a faint, pitying smile. + +Razumov began to feel angry, very much against +his wish. + +"This is very mysterious," he muttered through +his teeth. + +"You don't object to being understood, to being +guided?" queried the great feminist. Razumov +exploded in a fierce whisper. + +"In what sense? Be pleased to understand that I +am a serious person. Who do you take me for?" + +They looked at each other very closely. +Razumov's temper was cooled by the impenetrable +earnestness of the blue glasses meeting his +stare. Peter Ivanovitch turned the handle at +last. + +"You shall know directly," he said, pushing the +door open. + +A low-pitched grating voice was heard within the +room. + +"_Enfin_." + +In the doorway, his black-coated bulk blocking +the view, Peter Ivanovitch boomed in a hearty +tone with something boastful in it. + +"Yes. Here I am!" + +He glanced over his shoulder at Razumov, who +waited for him to move on. + +"And I am bringing you a proved conspirator--a +real one this time. _Un vrai celui la_." + +This pause in the doorway gave the "proved +conspirator" time to make sure that his face did +not betray his angry curiosity and his mental +disgust. + +These sentiments stand confessed in Mr. +Razumov's memorandum of his first interview with +Madame de S---. The very words I use in my +narrative are written where their sincerity +cannot be suspected. The record, which could +not have been meant for anyone's eyes but his +own, was not, I think, the outcome of that +strange impulse of indiscretion common to men +who lead secret lives, and accounting for the +invariable existence of "compromising documents" +in all the plots and conspiracies of history. +Mr. Razumov looked at it, I suppose, as a man +looks at himself in a mirror, with wonder, +perhaps with anguish, with anger or despair. +Yes, as a threatened man may look fearfully at +his own face in the glass, formulating to +himself reassuring excuses for his appearance +marked by the taint of some insidious hereditary +disease. + + +II + + +The Egeria of the "Russian Mazzini" produced, at +first view, a strong effect by the death-like +immobility of an obviously painted face. The +eyes appeared extraordinarily brilliant. The +figure, in a close-fitting dress, admirably +made, but by no means fresh, had an elegant +stiffness. The rasping voice inviting him to +sit down; the rigidity of the upright attitude +with one arm extended along the back of the +sofa, the white gleam of the big eyeballs +setting off the black, fathomless stare of the +enlarged pupils, impressed Razumov more than +anything he had seen since his hasty and secret +departure from St. Petersburg. A witch in +Parisian clothes, he thought. A portent! He +actually hesitated in his advance, and did not +even comprehend, at first, what the rasping +voice was saying. + +"Sit down. Draw your chair nearer me. There--" + +He sat down. At close quarters the rouged +cheekbones, the wrinkles, the fine lines on each +side of the vivid lips, astounded him. He was +being received graciously, with a smile which +made him think of a grinning skull. + +"We have been hearing about you for some time." + +He did not know what to say, and murmured some +disconnected words. The grinning skull effect +vanished. + +"And do you know that the general complaint is +that you have shown yourself very reserved +everywhere?" + +Razumov remained silent for a time, thinking of +his answer. + +"I, don't you see, am a man of action," he said +huskily, glancing upwards. + +Peter Ivanovitch stood in portentous expectant +silence by the side of his chair. A slight +feeling of nausea came over Razumov. What could +be the relations of these two people to each +other? She like a galvanized corpse out of some +Hoffman's Tale--he the preacher of feminist +gospel for all the world, and a super- +revolutionist besides! This ancient, painted +mummy with unfathomable eyes, and this burly, +bull-necked, deferential. . .what was it? +Witchcraft, fascination. . . . "It's for her +money," he thought. "She has millions!" + +The walls, the floor of the room were bare like +a barn. The few pieces of furniture had been +discovered in the garrets and dragged down into +service without having been properly dusted, +even. It was the refuse the banker's widow had +left behind her. The windows without curtains +had an indigent, sleepless look. In two of them +the dirty yellowy-white blinds had been pulled +down. All this spoke, not of poverty, but of +sordid penuriousness. + +The hoarse voice on the sofa uttered angrily- + +"You are looking round, Kirylo Sidorovitch. I +have been shamefully robbed, positively ruined." + +A rattling laugh, which seemed beyond her +control, interrupted her for a moment. + +"A slavish nature would find consolation in the +fact that the principal robber was an exalted +and almost a sacrosanct person--a Grand Duke, in +fact. Do you understand, Mr. Razumov? A Grand +Duke--No! You have no idea what thieves those +people are! Downright thieves!" + +Her bosom heaved, but her left arm remained +rigidly extended along the back of the couch. + +"You will only upset yourself," breathed out a +deep voice, which, to Razumov's startled glance, +seemed to proceed from under the steady +spectacles of Peter Ivanovitch, rather than from +his lips, which had hardly moved. + +"What of hat? I say thieves! _Voleurs! +Voleurs!_" + +Razumov was quite confounded by this unexpected +clamour, which had in it something of wailing +and croaking, and more than a suspicion of +hysteria. + +"_Voleurs! Voleurs! Vol_. . . ." + +"No power on earth can rob you of your genius," +shouted Peter Ivanovitch in an overpowering +bass, but without stirring, without a gesture of +any kind. A profound silence fell. + +Razumov remained outwardly impassive. "What is +the meaning of this performance?" he was asking +himself. But with a preliminary sound of +bumping outside some door behind him, the lady +companion, in a threadbare black skirt and +frayed blouse, came in rapidly, walking on her +heels, and carrying in both hands a big Russian +samovar, obviously too heavy for her. Razumov +made an instinctive movement to help, which +startled her so much that she nearly dropped her +hissing burden. She managed, however, to land +it on the table, and looked so frightened that +Razumov hastened to sit down. She produced +then, from an adjacent room, four glass +tumblers, a teapot, and a sugar-basin, on a +black iron tray. + +The rasping voice asked from the sofa abruptly-- + +"_Les gateaux_? Have you remembered to bring +the cakes?" + +Peter Ivanovitch, without a word, marched out on +to the landing, and returned instantly with a +parcel wrapped up in white glazed paper, which +he must have extracted from the interior of his +hat. With imperturbable gravity he undid the +string and smoothed the paper open on a part of +the table within reach of Madame de S---'s hand. + The lady companion poured out the tea, then +retired into a distant corner out of everybody's +sight. From time to time Madame de S--- +extended a claw-like hand, glittering with +costly rings, towards the paper of cakes, took +up one and devoured it, displaying her big false +teeth ghoulishly. Meantime she talked in a +hoarse tone of the political situation in the +Balkans. She built great hopes on some +complication in the peninsula for arousing a +great movement of national indignation in Russia +against "these thieves--thieves thieves." + +"You will only upset yourself," Peter Ivanovitch +interposed, raising his glassy gaze. He smoked +cigarettes and drank tea in silence, +continuously. When he had finished a glass, he +flourished his hand above his shoulder. At that +signal the lady companion, ensconced in her +corner, with round eyes like a watchful animal, +would dart out to the table and pour him out +another tumblerful. + +Razumov looked at her once or twice. She was +anxious, tremulous, though neither Madame de S--- + nor Peter Ivanovitch paid the slightest +attention to her. "What have they done between +them to that forlorn creature?" Razumov asked +himself. "Have they terrified her out of her +senses with ghosts, or simply have they only +been beating her?" When she gave him his second +glass of tea, he noticed that her lips trembled +in the manner of a scared person about to burst +into speech. But of course she said nothing, +and retired into her corner, as if hugging to +herself the smile of thanks he gave her. + +"She may be worth cultivating," thought Razumov +suddenly. + +He was calming down, getting hold of the +actuality into which he had been thrown--for the +first time perhaps since Victor Haldin had +entered his room. . .and had gone out again. He +was distinctly aware of being the object of the +famous--or notorious--Madame de S---'s ghastly +graciousness. + +Madame de S--- was pleased to discover that this +young man was different from the other types of +revolutionist members of committees, secret +emissaries, vulgar and unmannerly fugitive +professors, rough students, ex-cobblers with +apostolic faces, consumptive and ragged +enthusiasts, Hebrew youths, common fellows of +all sorts that used to come and go around Peter +Ivanovitch--fanatics, pedants, proletarians all. + It was pleasant to talk to this young man of +notably good appearance--for Madame de S--- was +not always in a mystical state of mind. +Razumov's taciturnity only excited her to a +quicker, more voluble utterance. It still dealt +with the Balkans. She knew all the statesmen of +that region, Turks, Bulgarians, Montenegrins, +Roumanians, Greeks, Armenians, and nondescripts, +young and old, the living and the dead. With +some money an intrigue could be started which +would set the Peninsula in a blaze and outrage +the sentiment of the Russian people. A cry of +abandoned brothers could be raised, and then, +with the nation seething with indignation, a +couple of regiments or so would be enough to +begin a military revolution in St. Petersburg +and make an end of these thieves. . . . + +"Apparently I've got only to sit still and +listen," the silent Razumov thought to himself. +"As to that hairy and obscene brute" (in such +terms did Mr. Razumov refer mentally to the +popular expounder of a feministic conception of +social state), "as to him, for all his cunning +he too shall speak out some day." + +Razumov ceased to think for a moment. Then a +sombre-toned reflection formulated itself in his +mind, ironical and bitter. "I have the gift of +inspiring confidence." He heard himself +laughing aloud. It was like a goad to the +painted, shiny-eyed harridan on the sofa. + +"You may well laugh!" she cried hoarsely. "What +else can one do! Perfect swindlers--and what +base swindlers at that! Cheap Germans--Holstein- +Gottorps! Though, indeed, it's hardly safe to +say who and what they are. A family that counts +a creature like Catherine the Great in its +ancestry--you understand!" + +"You are only upsetting yourself," said Peter +Ivanovitch, patiently but in a firm tone. This +admonition had its usual effect on the Egeria. +She dropped her thick, discoloured eyelids and +changed her position on the sofa. All her +angular and lifeless movements seemed completely +automatic now that her eyes were closed. +Presently she opened them very full. Peter +Ivanovitch drank tea steadily, without haste. + +"Well, I declare!" She addressed Razumov +directly. "The people who have seen you on your +way here are right. You are very reserved. You +haven't said twenty words altogether since you +came in. You let nothing of your thoughts be +seen in your face either." + +"I have been listening, Madame," said Razumov, +using French for the first time, hesitatingly, +not being certain of his accent. But it seemed +to produce an excellent impression. Madame de S- +-- looked meaningly into Peter Ivanovitch's +spectacles, as if to convey her conviction of +this young man's merit. She even nodded the +least bit in his direction, and Razumov heard +her murmur under her breath the words, " Later +on in the diplomatic service," which could not +but refer to the favourable impression he had +made. The fantastic absurdity of it revolted +him because it seemed to outrage his ruined +hopes with the vision of a mock-career. Peter +Ivanovitch, impassive as though he were deaf, +drank some more tea. Razumov felt that he must +say something. + +"Yes," he began deliberately, as if uttering a +meditated opinion. "Clearly. Even in planning +a purely military revolution the temper of the +people should be taken into account." + +"You have understood me perfectly. The +discontent should be spiritualized. That is +what the ordinary heads of revolutionary +committees will not understand. They aren't +capable of it. For instance, Mordatiev was in +Geneva last month. Peter Ivanovitch brought him +here. You know Mordatiev? Well, yes--you have +heard of him. They call him an eagle--a hero! +He has never done half as much as you have. +Never attempted--not half. . . ." + +Madame de S--- agitated herself angularly on the +sofa. + +"We, of course, talked to him. And do you know +what he said to me? 'What have we to do with +Balkan intrigues? We must simply extirpate the +scoundrels.' Extirpate is all very well--but +what then? The imbecile! I screamed at him, +'But you must spiritualize--don't you +understand?--spiritualize the discontent.'. . ." + +She felt nervously in her pocket for a +handkerchief; she pressed it to her lips. + +"Spiritualize?" said Razumov interrogatively, +watching her heaving breast. The long ends of +an old black lace scarf she wore over her head +slipped off her shoulders and hung down on each +side of her ghastly rosy cheeks. + +"An odious creature," she burst out again. +"Imagine a man who takes five lumps of sugar in +his tea. . . . Yes, I said spiritualize! How +else can you make discontent effective and +universal?" + +"Listen to this, young man." Peter Ivanovitch +made himself heard solemnly. "Effective and +universal." + +Razumov looked at him suspiciously. + +"Some say hunger will do that," he remarked. + +"Yes. I know. Our people are starving in +heaps. But you can't make famine universal. +And it is not despair that we want to create. +There is no moral support to be got out of that. + It is indignation. . . ." + +Madame de S--- let her thin, extended arm sink +on her knees. + +"I am not a Mordatiev," began Razumov. + +"Bien sur!" murmured Madame de S---. + +"Though I too am ready to say extirpate, +extirpate! But in my ignorance of political +work, permit me to ask: A Balkan--well-- +intrigue, wouldn't that take a very long time?" + +Peter Ivanovitch got up and moved off quietly, +to stand with his face to the window. Razumov +heard a door close; he turned his head and +perceived that the lady companion had scuttled +out of the room. + +"In matters of politics I am a supernaturalist." + Madame de S--- broke the silence harshly. + +Peter Ivanovitch moved away from the window and +struck Razumov lightly on the shoulder. This +was a signal for leaving, but at the same time +he addressed Madame de S--- in a peculiar +reminding tone--- + +"Eleanor!" + +Whatever it meant, she did not seem to hear him. + She leaned back in the corner of the sofa like +a wooden figure. The immovable peevishness of +the face, framed in the limp, rusty lace, had a +character of cruelty. + +"As to extirpating," she croaked at the +attentive Razumov, "there is only one class in +Russia which must be extirpated. Only one. And +that class consists of only one family. You +understand me? That one family must be +extirpated." + +Her rigidity was frightful, like the rigor of a +corpse galvanized into harsh speech and +glittering stare by the force of murderous hate. + The sight fascinated Razumov--yet he felt more +self-possessed than at any other time since he +had entered this weirdly bare room. He was +interested. But the great feminist by his side +again uttered his appeal-- + +"Eleanor!" + +She disregarded it. Her carmine lips +vaticinated with an extraordinary rapidity. The +liberating spirit would use arms before which +rivers would part like Jordan, and ramparts fall +down like the walls of Jericho. The deliverance +from bondage would be effected by plagues and by +signs, by wonders and by war. The women. . . . + +"Eleanor!" + +She ceased; she had heard him at last. She +pressed her hand to her forehead. + +"What is it? Ah yes! That girl--the sister of. +. . ." + +It was Miss Haldin that she meant. That young +girl and her mother had been leading a very +retired life. They were provincial ladies--were +they not? The mother had been very beautiful-- +traces were left yet. Peter Ivanovitch, when he +called there for the first time, was greatly +struck. . . . But the cold way they received +him was really surprising. + +"He is one of our national glories," Madams de S- +-- cried out, with sudden vehemence. "All the +world listens to him." + +"I don't know these ladies," said Razumov loudly +rising from his chair. + +"What are you saying, Kirylo Sidorovitch? I +understand that she was talking to you here, in +the garden, the other day." + +"Yes, in the garden," said Razumov gloomily. +Then, with an effort, "She made herself known to +me." + +"And then ran away from us all," Madame de S--- +continued, with ghastly vivacity. "After coming +to the very door! What a peculiar proceeding! +Well, I have been a shy little provincial girl +at one time. Yes, Razumov" (she fell into this +familiarity intentionally, with an appalling +grimace of graciousness. Razumov gave a +perceptible start), "yes, that's my origin. A +simple provincial family + +"You are a marvel," Peter Ivanovich uttered in +his + +But it was to Razumov that she gave her death's- +head smile. Her tone was quite imperious. + +"You must bring the wild young thing here. She +is wanted. I reckon upon your success--mind!" + +"She is not a wild young thing," muttered +Razumov, in a surly voice. + +"Well, then--that's all the same. She may be +one of these young conceited democrats. Do you +know what I think? I think she is very much +like you in character. There is a smouldering +fire of scorn in you. You are darkly self- +sufficient, but I can see your very soul." + +Her shiny eyes had a dry, intense stare, which, +missing Razumov, gave him an absurd notion that +she was looking at something which was visible +to her behind him. He cursed himself for an +impressionable fool, and asked with forced +calmness-- + +"What is it you see? Anything resembling me?" + +She moved her rigidly set face from left to +right, negatively. + +"Some sort of phantom in my image?" pursued +Razumov slowly. "For, I suppose, a soul when it +is seen is just that. A vain thing. There are +phantoms of the living as well as of the dead." + +The tenseness of Madame de S---'s stare had +relaxed, and now she looked at Razumov in a +silence that became disconcerting. + +"I myself have had an experience," he stammered +out, as if compelled. " I've seen a phantom +once." The unnaturally red lips moved to frame +a question harshly. + +"Of a dead person?" + +"No. Living." + +"A friend?" + +" No." + +"An enemy?" + +"I hated him." + +"Ah! It was not a woman, then?" + +"A woman!" repeated Razumov, his eyes looking +straight into the eyes of Madame de S---. "Why +should it have been a woman? And why this +conclusion? Why should I not have been able to +hate a woman?" + +As a matter of fact, the idea of hating a woman +was new to him. At that moment he hated Madame +de S---. But it was not exactly hate. It was +more like the abhorrence that may be caused by a +wooden or plaster figure of a repulsive kind. +She moved no more than if she were such a +figure; even her eyes, whose unwinking stare +plunged into his own, though shining, were +lifeless, as though they were as artificial as +her teeth. For the first time Razumov became +aware of a faint perfume, but faint as it was it +nauseated him exceedingly. Again Peter +Ivanovitch tapped him slightly on the shoulder. +Thereupon he bowed, and was about to turn away +when he received the unexpected favour of a +bony, inanimate hand extended to him, with the +two words in hoarse French-- + +"_Au revoir!_" + +He bowed over the skeleton hand and left the +room, escorted by the great man, who made him go +out first. The voice from the sofa cried after +them- + +"You remain here, _Pierre_." + +"Certainly, _ma chere amie_." + +But he left the room with Razumov, shutting the +door behind him. The landing was prolonged into +a bare corridor, right and left, desolate +perspectives of white and gold decoration +without a strip of carpet. The very light, +pouring through a large window at the end, +seemed dusty; and a solitary speck reposing on +the balustrade of white marble--the silk top-hat +of the great feminist--asserted itself +extremely, black and glossy in all that crude +whiteness. + +Peter Ivanovitch escorted the visitor without +opening his lips. Even when they had reached +the head of the stairs Peter Ivanovitch did not +break the silence. Razumov's impulse to +continue down the flight and out of the house +without as much as a nod abandoned him suddenly. + He stopped on the first step and leaned his +back against the wall. Below him the great hall +with its chequered floor of black and white +seemed absurdly large and like some public place +where a great power of resonance awaits the +provocation of footfalls and voices. As if +afraid of awakening the loud echoes of that +empty house, Razumov adopted a low tone. + +"I really have no mind to turn into a dilettante +spiritualist." + +Peter Ivanovitch shook his head slightly, very +serious. + +"Or spend my time in spiritual ecstasies or +sublime meditations upon the gospel of +feminism," continued Razumov. "I made my way +here for my share of action--action, most +respected Peter Ivanovitch! It was not the +great European writer who attracted me, here, to +this odious town of liberty. It was somebody +much greater. It was the idea of the chief +which attracted me. There are starving young +men in Russia who believe in you so much that it +seems the only thing that keeps them alive in +their misery. Think of that, Peter Ivanovitch! +No! But only think of that!" + +The great man, thus entreated, perfectly +motionless and silent, was the very image of +patient, placid respectability. + +"Of course I don't speak of the people. They +are brutes," added Razumov, in the same subdued +but forcible tone. At this, a protesting murmur +issued from the "heroic fugitive's" beard. A +murmur of authority. + +"Say--children." + +"No! Brutes!" Razumov insisted bluntly. + +"But they are sound, they are innocent," the +great man pleaded in a whisper. + +"As far as that goes, a brute is sound enough." +Razumov raised his voice at last. "And you +can't deny the natural innocence of a brute. +But what's the use of disputing about names? +You just try to give these children the power +and stature of men and see what they will be +like. You just give it to them and see. . . . +But never mind. I tell you, Peter Ivanovitch, +that half a dozen young men do not come together +nowadays in a shabby student's room without your +name being whispered, not as a leader of +thought, but as a centre of revolutionary +energies--the centre of action. What else has +drawn me near you, do you think? It is not what +all the world knows of you, surely. It's +precisely what the world at large does not know. + I was irresistibly drawn-let us say impelled, +yes, impelled; or, rather, compelled, driven-- +driven,'' repented Razumov loudly, and ceased, +as if startled by the hollow reverberation of +the word "driven" along two bare corridors and +in the great empty hall. + +Peter Ivanovitch did not seem startled in the +least. The young man could not control a dry, +uneasy laugh. The great revolutionist remained +unmoved with an effect of commonplace, homely +superiority. + +"Curse him," said Razumov to himself, "he is +waiting behind his spectacles for me to give +myself away." Then aloud, with a satanic +enjoyment of the scorn prompting him to play +with the greatness of the great man-- + +"Ah, Peter Ivanovitch, if you only knew the +force which drew--no, which _drove_ me towards +you! The irresistible force." + +He did not feel any desire to laugh now. This +time Peter Ivanovitch moved his head sideways, +knowingly, as much as to say, "Don't I?" This +expressive movement was almost imperceptible. +Razumov went on in secret derision-- + +"All these days you have been trying to read me, +Peter Ivanovitch. That is natural. I have +perceived it and I have been frank. Perhaps you +may think I have not been very expansive? But +with a man like you it was not needed; it would +have looked like an impertinence, perhaps. And +besides, we Russians are prone to talk too much +as a rule. I have always felt that. And yet, +as a nation, we are dumb. I assure you that I +am not likely to talk to you so much again--ha! +ha!--" + +Razumov, still keeping on the lower step, came a +little nearer to the great man. + +"You have been condescending enough. I quite +understood it was to lead me on. You must +render me the justice that I have not tried to +please. I have been impelled, compelled, or +rather sent--let us say sent--towards you for a +work that no one but myself can do. You would +call it a harmless delusion: a ridiculous +delusion at which you don't even smile. It is +absurd of me to talk like this, yet some day you +shall remember these words, I hope. Enough of +this. Here I stand before you-confessed! But +one thing more I must add to complete it: a mere +blind tool I can never consent to be." + +Whatever acknowledgment Razumov was prepared +for, he was not prepared to have both his hands +seized in the great man's grasp. The swiftness +of the movement was aggressive enough to +startle. The burly feminist could not have been +quicker had his purpose been to jerk Razumov +treacherously up on the landing and bundle him +behind one of the numerous closed doors near by. + This idea actually occurred to Razumov; his +hands being released after a darkly eloquent +squeeze, he smiled, with a beating heart, +straight at the beard and the spectacles hiding +that impenetrable man. + +He thought to himself (it stands confessed in +his handwriting), "I won't move from here till +he either speaks or turns away. This is a +duel." Many seconds passed without a sign or +sound. + +"Yes, yes," the great man said hurriedly, in +subdued tones, as if the whole thing had been a +stolen, breathless interview. "Exactly. Come +to see us here in a few days. This must be gone +into deeply--deeply, between you and me. Quite +to the bottom. To the. . . . And, by the by, +you must bring along Natalia Victorovna--you +know, the Haldin girl. . . . + +"Am I to take this as my first instruction from +you?" inquired Razumov stiffly. + +Peter Ivanovitch seemed perplexed by this new +attitude. + +"Ah! h'm! You are naturally the proper person-- +_la personne indiquee_. Every one shall be +wanted presently. Every one." + +He bent down from the landing over Razumov, who +had lowered his eyes. + +"The moment of action approaches,'' he murmured. + +Razumov did not look up. He did not move till +he heard the door of the drawing-room close +behind the greatest of feminists returning to +his painted Egeria. Then he walked down slowly +into the hall. The door stood open, and the +shadow of the house was lying aslant over the +greatest part of the terrace. While crossing it +slowly, he lifted his hat and wiped his damp +forehead, expelling his breath with force to get +rid of the last vestiges of the air he had been +breathing inside. He looked at the palms of his +hands, and rubbed them gently against his thighs. + +He felt, bizarre as it may seem, as though +another self, an independent sharer of his mind, +had been able to view his whole person very +distinctly indeed. "This is curious," he +thought. After a while he formulated his +opinion of it in the mental ejaculation: +"Beastly!" This disgust vanished before a +marked uneasiness. "This is an effect of +nervous exhaustion," he reflected with weary +sagacity. "How am I to go on day after day if I +have no more power of resistance--moral +resistance?" + +He followed the path at the foot of the terrace. + "Moral resistance, moral resistance;" he kept +on repeating these words mentally. Moral +endurance. Yes, that was the necessity of the +situation. An immense longing to make his way +out of these grounds and to the other end of the +town, of throwing himself on his bed and going +to sleep for hours, swept everything clean out +of his mind for a moment. "Is it possible that +I am but a weak creature after all?" he asked +himself, in sudden alarm. "Eh! What's that?" + +He gave a start as if awakened from a dream. He +even swayed a little before recovering himself. + +"Ah! You stole away from us quietly to walk +about here," he said. + +The lady companion stood before him, but how she +came there he had not the slightest idea. Her +folded arms were closely cherishing the cat. + +"I have been unconscious as I walked, it's a +positive fact," said Razumov to himself in +wonder. He raised his hat with marked civility. + +The sallow woman blushed duskily. She had her +invariably scared expression, as if somebody had +just disclosed to her some terrible news. But +she held her ground, Razumov noticed, without +timidity. "She is incredibly shabby," he +thought. In the sunlight her black costume +looked greenish, with here and there threadbare +patches where the stuff seemed decomposed by age +into a velvety, black, furry state. Her very +hair and eyebrows looked shabby. Razumov +wondered whether she were sixty years old. Her +figure, though, was young enough. He observed +that she did not appear starved, but rather as +if she had been fed on unwholesome scraps and +leavings of plates. + +Razumov smiled amiably and moved out of her way. + She turned her head to keep her scared eyes on +him. + +"I know what you have been told in there," she +affirmed, without preliminaries. Her tone, in +contrast with her manner, had an unexpectedly +assured character which put Razumov at his ease. + +"Do you? You must have heard all sorts of talk +on many occasions in there." + +She varied her phrase, with the same incongruous +effect of positiveness. + +"I know to a certainty what you have been told +to do." + +"Really?" Razumov shrugged his shoulders a +little. He was about to pass on with a bow, +when a sudden thought struck him. "Yes. To be +sure! In your confidential position you are +aware of many things," he murmured, looking at +the cat. + +That animal got a momentary convulsive hug from +the lady companion. + +"Everything was disclosed to me a long time +ago," she said. + +"Everything," Razumov repeated absently. + +"Peter Ivanovitch is an awful despot," she +jerked out. + +Razumov went on studying the stripes on the grey +fur of the cat. + +"An iron will is an integral part of such a +temperament. How else could he be a leader? +And I think that you are mistaken in--" + +"There!" she cried. " You tell me that I am +mistaken. But I tell you all the same that he +cares for no one." She jerked her head up. +"Don't you bring that girl here. That's what +you have been told to do--to bring that girl +here. Listen to me; you had better tie a stone +round her neck and throw her into the lake." + +Razumov had a sensation of chill and gloom, as +if a heavy cloud had passed over the sun. + +"The girl?" he said. "What have I to do with +her?" + +"But you have been told to bring Nathalie Haldin +here. Am I not right? Of course I am right. I +was not in the room, but I know. I know Peter +Ivanovitch sufficiently well. He is a great +man. Great men are horrible. Well, that's it. +Have nothing to do with her. That's the best +you can do, unless you want her to become like +me--disillusioned! Disillusioned!" + +"Like you," repeated Razumov, glaring at her +face, as devoid of all comeliness of feature and +complexion as the most miserable beggar is of +money. He smiled, still feeling chilly: a +peculiar sensation which annoyed him." +Disillusioned as to Peter Ivanovitch! Is that +all you have lost?" + +She declared, looking frightened, but with +immense conviction, "Peter Ivanovitch stands for +everything." Then she added, in another tone, +"Keep the girl away from this house." + +"And are you absolutely inciting me to disobey +Peter Ivanovitch just because--because you are +disillusioned?" + +She began to blink. + +"Directly I saw you for the first time I was +comforted. You took your hat off to me. You +looked as if one could trust you. Oh!" + +She shrank before Razumov's savage snarl of, "I +have heard something like this before." + +She was so confounded that she could do nothing +but blink for a long time. + +"It was your humane manner," she explained +plaintively. "I have been starving for, I won't +say kindness, but just for a little civility, +for I don't know how long. And now you are +angry. . . ." + +"But no, on the contrary," he protested. " I am +very glad you trust me. It's possible that +later on I may. . . ." + +"Yes, if you were to get ill," she interrupted +eagerly, " or meet some bitter trouble, you +would find I am not a useless fool. You have +only to let me know. I will come to you. I +will indeed. And I will stick to you. Misery +and I are old acquaintances--but this life here +is worse than starving." + +She paused anxiously, then in a voice for the +first time sounding really timid, she added-- + +"Or if you were engaged in some dangerous work. +Sometimes a humble companion--I would not want +to know anything. I would follow you with joy. +I could carry out orders. I have the courage." + +Razumov looked attentively at the scared round +eyes, at the withered, sallow, round cheeks. +They were quivering about the corners of the +mouth. + +"She wants to escape from here," he thought. + +"Suppose I were to tell you that I am engaged in +dangerous work?" he uttered slowly. + +She pressed the cat to her threadbare bosom with +a breathless exclamation. "Ah!" Then not much +above a whisper: "Under Peter Ivanovitch?" + +"No, not under Peter Ivanovitch." + +He read admiration in her eyes, and made an +effort to smile. + +"Then--alone?" + +He held up his closed hand with the index +raised. "Like this finger," he said. + +She was trembling slightly. But it occurred to +Razumov that they might have been observed from +the house, and he became anxious to be gone. +She blinked, raising up to him her puckered +face, and seemed to beg mutely to be told +something more, to be given a word of +encouragement for her starving, grotesque, and +pathetic devotion. + +"Can we be seen from the house?" asked Razumov +confidentially. + +She answered, without showing the slightest +surprise at the question-- + +"No, we can't, on account of this end of the +stables." And she added, with an acuteness +which surprised Razumov," But anybody looking +out of an upstairs window would know that you +have not passed through the gates yet." + +"Who's likely to spy out of the window?" queried +Razumov. "Peter Ivanovitch?" + +She nodded. + +"Why should he trouble his head?" + +"He expects somebody this afternoon." + +"You know the person?" + +"There's more than one." + +She had lowered her eyelids. Razumov looked at +her curiously. + +"Of course. You hear everything they say." + +She murmured without any animosity-- + +"So do the tables and chairs." + +He understood that the bitterness accumulated in +the heart of that helpless creature had got into +her veins, and, like some subtle poison, had +decomposed her fidelity to that hateful pair. +It was a great piece of luck for him, he +reflected; because women are seldom venal after +the manner of men, who can be bought for +material considerations. She would be a good +ally, though it was not likely that she was +allowed to hear as much as the tables and chairs +of the Chateau Borel. That could not be +expected. But still. . . . And, at any rate, +she could be made to talk. + +When she looked up her eyes met the fixed stare +of Razumov, who began to speak at once. + +"Well, well, dear. . .but upon my word, I +haven't the pleasure of knowing your name yet. +Isn't it strange?" + +For the first time she made a movement of the +shoulders. + +"Is it strange? No one is told my name. No one +cares. No one talks to me, no one writes to me. + My parents don't even know if I'm alive. I +have no use for a name, and I have almost +forgotten it myself." + +Razumov murmured gravely, "Yes, but still. . ." + +She went on much slower, with indifference-- + +"You may call me Tekla, then. My poor Andrei +called me so. I was devoted to him. He lived +in wretchedness and suffering, and died in +misery. That is the lot of all us Russians, +nameless Russians. There is nothing else for +us, and no hope anywhere, unless. . ." + +"Unless what?" + +"Unless all these people with names are done +away with," she finished, blinking and pursing +up her lips. + +"It will be easier to call you Tekla, as you +direct me," said Razumov, "if you consent to +call me Kirylo, when we are talking like this-- +quietly--only you and me." + +And he said to himself, "Here's a being who must +be terribly afraid of the world, else she would +have run away from this situation before." Then +he reflected that the mere fact of leaving the +great man abruptly would make her a suspect. +She could expect no support or countenance from +anyone. This revolutionist was not fit for an +independent existence. + +She moved with him a few steps, blinking and +nursing the cat with a small balancing movement +of her arms. + +"Yes--only you and I. That's how I was with my +poor Andrei, only he was dying, killed by these +official brutes--while you! You are strong. +You kill the monsters. You have done a great +deed. Peter Ivanovitch himself must consider +you. Well--don't forget me--especially if you +are going back to work in Russia. I could +follow you, carrying anything that was wanted-- +at a distance, you know. Or I could watch for +hours at the corner of a street if necessary,-- +in wet or snow--yes, I could--all day long. Or +I could write for you dangerous documents, lists +of names or instructions, so that in case of +mischance the handwriting could not compromise +you. And you need not be afraid if they were to +catch me. I would know how to keep dumb. We +women are not so easily daunted by pain. I +heard Peter Ivanovitch say it is our blunt +nerves or something. We can stand it better. +And it's true; I would just as soon bite my +tongue out and throw it at them as not. What's +the good of speech to me? Who would ever want +to hear what I could say? Ever since I closed +the eyes of my poor Andrei I haven't met a man +who seemed to care for the sound of my voice. I +should never have spoken to you if the very +first time you appeared here you had not taken +notice of me so nicely. I could not help +speaking of you to that charming dear girl. Oh, +the sweet creature! And strong! One can see +that at once. If you have a heart don't let her +set her foot in here. Good-bye!" + +Razumov caught her by the arm. Her emotion at +being thus seized manifested itself by a short +struggle, after which she stood still, not +looking at him. + +"But you can tell me," he spoke in her ear, "why +they--these people in that house there--are so +anxious to get hold of her?" + +She freed herself to turn upon him, as if made +angry by the question. + +"Don't you understand that Peter Ivanovitch must +direct, inspire, influence? It is the breath of +his life. There can never be too many +disciples. He can't bear thinking of anyone +escaping him. And a woman, too! There is +nothing to be done without women, he says. He +has written it. He--" + +The young man was staring at her passion when +she broke off suddenly and ran away behind the +stable. + + +III + + +Razumov, thus left to himself, took the +direction of the gate. But on this day of many +conversations, he discovered that very probably +he could not leave the grounds without having to +hold another one. + +Stepping in view from beyond the lodge appeared +the expected visitors of Peter Ivanovitch: a +small party composed of two men and a woman. +They noticed him too, immediately, and stopped +short as if to consult. But in a moment the +woman, moving aside, motioned with her arm to +the two men, who, leaving the drive at once, +struck across the large neglected lawn, or +rather grass-plot, and made directly for the +house. The woman remained on the path waiting +for Razumov's approach. She had recognized him. + He, too, had recognized her at the first +glance. He had been made known to her at +Zurich, where he had broken his journey while on +his way from Dresden. They had been much +together for the three days of his stay. + +She was wearing the very same costume in which +he had seen her first. A blouse of crimson silk +made her noticeable at a distance. With that +she wore a short brown skirt and a leather belt. + Her complexion was the colour of coffee and +milk, but very clear; her eyes black and +glittering, her figure erect. A lot of thick +hair, nearly white, was done up loosely under a +dusty Tyrolese hat of dark cloth, which seemed +to have lost some of its trimmings. + +The expression of her face was grave, intent; so +grave that Razumov, after approaching her close, +felt obliged to smile. She greeted him with a +manly hand-grasp. + +"What! Are you going away?" she exclaimed. +"How is that, Razumov?" + +"I am going away because I haven't been asked to +stay," Razumov answered, returning the pressure +of her hand with much less force than she had +put into it. + +She jerked her head sideways like one who +understands. Meantime Razumov's eyes had +strayed after the two men. They were crossing +the grass-plot obliquely, without haste. The +shorter of the two was buttoned up in a narrow +overcoat of some thin grey material, which came +nearly to his heels. His companion, much taller +and broader, wore a short, close-fitting jacket +and tight trousers tucked into shabby top-boots. + +The woman, who had sent them out of Razumov's +way apparently, spoke in a businesslike voice. + +"I had to come rushing from Zurich on purpose to +meet the train and take these two along here to +see Peter Ivanovitch. I've just managed it." + +"Ah! indeed," Razumov said perfunctorily, and +very vexed at her staying behind to talk to him +"From Zurich--yes, of course. And these two, +they come from. . . ." + +She interrupted, without emphasis-- + +"From quite another direction. From a distance, +too. A considerable distance." + +Razumov shrugged his shoulders. The two men +from a distance, after having reached the wall +of the terrace, disappeared suddenly at its foot +as if the earth had opened to swallow them up. + +"Oh, well, they have just come from America." +The woman in the crimson blouse shrugged her +shoulders too a little before making that +statement. "The time is drawing near," she +interjected, as if speaking to herself. "I did +not tell them who you were. Yakovlitch would +have wanted to embrace you." + +"Is that he with the wisp of hair hanging from +his chin, in the long coat?" + +"You've guessed aright. That's Yakovlitch." + +"And they could not find their way here from the +station without you coming on purpose from +Zurich to show it to them? Verily, without +women we can do nothing. So it stands written, +and apparently so it is." + +He was conscious of an immense lassitude under +his effort to be sarcastic. And he could see +that she had detected it with those steady, +brilliant black eyes. + +"What is the matter with you?" + +"I don't know. Nothing. I've had a devil of a +day." + +She waited, with her black eyes fixed on his +face. Then-- + +"What of that? You men are so impressionable +and self-conscious. One day is like another, +hard, hard--and there's an end of it, till the +great day comes. I came over for a very good +reason. They wrote to warn Peter Ivanovitch of +their arrival. But where from? Only from +Cherbourg on a bit of ship's notepaper. Anybody +could have done that. Yakovlitch has lived for +years and years in America. I am the only one +at hand who had known him well in the old days. +I knew him very well indeed. So Peter +Ivanovitch telegraphed, asking me to come. It's +natural enough, is it not?" + +"You came to vouch for his identity?" inquired +Razumov. + +"Yes. Something of the kind. Fifteen years of +a life like his make changes in a man. Lonely, +like a crow in a strange country. When I think +of Yakovlitch before he went to America--" + +The softness of the low tone caused Razumov to +glance at her sideways. She sighed; her black +eyes were looking away; she had plunged the +fingers of her right hand deep into the mass of +nearly white hair, and stirred them there +absently. When she withdrew her hand the little +hat perched on the top of her head remained +slightly tilted, with a queer inquisitive +effect, contrasting strongly with the +reminiscent murmur that escaped her. + +"We were not in our first youth even then. But +a man is a child always." + +Razumov thought suddenly, "They have been living +together." Then aloud-- + +"Why didn't you follow him to America?" he asked +point-blank. + +She looked up at him with a perturbed air. + +"Don't you remember what was going on fifteen +years ago? It was a time of activity. The +Revolution has its history by this time. You +are in it and yet you don't seem to know it. +Yakovlitch went away then on a mission; I went +back to Russia. It had to be so. Afterwards +there was nothing for him to come back to." + +"Ah! indeed," muttered Razumov, with affected +surprise. " Nothing!" + +"What are you trying to insinuate " she +exclaimed quickly. " Well, and what then if he +did get discouraged a little. . . ." + +"He looks like a Yankee, with that goatee +hanging from his chin. A regular Uncle Sam," +growled Razumov. "Well, and you? You who went +to Russia? You did not get discouraged." + +"Never mind. Yakovlitch is a man who cannot be +doubted. He, at any rate, is the right sort." + +Her black, penetrating gaze remained fixed upon +Razumov while she spoke, and for a moment +afterwards. + +"Pardon me, "Razumov inquired coldly, "but does +it mean that you, for instance, think that I am +not the right sort?" + +She made no protest, gave no sign of having +heard the question; she continued looking at him +in a manner which he judged not to be absolutely +unfriendly. In Zurich when he passed through +she had taken him under her charge, in a way, +and was with him from morning till night during +his stay of two days. She took him round to see +several people. At first she talked to him a +great deal and rather unreservedly, but always +avoiding all reference to herself; towards the +middle of the second day she fell silent, +attending him zealously as before, and even +seeing him off at the railway station, where she +pressed his hand firmly through the lowered +carriage window, and, stepping back without a +word, waited till the train moved. He had +noticed that she was treated with quiet regard. +He knew nothing of her parentage, nothing of her +private history or political record; he judged +her from his own private point of view, as being +a distinct danger in his path. "Judged " is not +perhaps the right word. It was more of a +feeling, the summing up of slight impressions +aided by the discovery that he could not despise +her as he despised all the others. He had not +expected to see her again so soon. + +No, decidedly; her expression was not +unfriendly. Yet he perceived an acceleration in +the beat of his heart. The conversation could +not be abandoned at that point. He went on in +accents of scrupulous inquiry-- + +"Is it perhaps because I don't seem to accept +blindly every development of the general +doctrine--such for instance as the feminism of +our great Peter Ivanovitch? If that is what +makes me suspect, then I can only say I would +scorn to be a slave even to an idea." + +She had been looking at him all the time, not as +a listener looks at one, but as if the words he +chose to say were only of secondary interest. +When he finished she slipped her hand, by a +sudden and decided movement, under his arm and +impelled him gently towards the gate of the +grounds. He felt her firmness and obeyed the +impulsion at once, just as the other two men +had, a moment before, obeyed unquestioningly the +wave of her hand. + +They made a few steps like this. + +"No, Razumov, your ideas are probably all +right," she said. "You may be valuable--very +valuable. What's the matter with you is that +you don't like us." + +She released him. He met her with a frosty +smile. + +" Am I expected then to have love as well as +convictions?" + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"You know very well what I mean. People have +been thinking you not quite whole-hearted. I +have heard that opinion from one side and +another. But I have understood you at the end +of the first day. . . ." + +Razumov interrupted her, speaking steadily. + +"I assure you that your perspicacity is at fault +here." + +"What phrases he uses!" she exclaimed +parenthetically. "Ah! Kirylo Sidorovitch, you +like other men are fastidious, full of self-love +and afraid of trifles. Moreover, you had no +training. What you want is to be taken in hand +by some woman. I am sorry I am not staying here +a few days. I am going back to Zurich to- +morrow, and shall take Yakovlitch with me most +likely." + +This information relieved Razumov. + +"I am sorry too," he said. "But, all the same, +I don't think you understand me." + +He breathed more freely; she did not protest, +but asked, "And how did you get on with Peter +Ivanovitch? You have seen a good deal of each +other. How is it between you two?" + +Not knowing what answer to make, the young man +inclined his head slowly. + +Her lips had been parted in expectation. She +pressed them together, and seemed to reflect. + +"That's all right." + +This had a sound of finality, but she did not +leave him. It was impossible to guess what she +had in her mind. Razumov muttered-- + +"It is not of me that you should have asked that +question. In a moment you shall see Peter +Ivanovitch himself, and the subject will come up +naturally. He will be curious to know what has +delayed you so long in this garden." + +"No doubt Peter Ivanovitch will have something +to say to me. Several things. He may even +speak of you--question me. Peter Ivanovitch is +inclined to trust me generally." + +"Question you? That's very likely." + +She smiled, half serious. + +"Well--and what shall I say to him?" + +"I don't know. You may tell him of your +discovery." + +"What's that?" + +"Why--my lack of love for. . . ." + + +"Oh! That's between ourselves," she +interrupted, it was hard to say whether in jest +or earnest. + +"I see that you want to tell Peter Ivanovitch +something in my favour," said Razumov, with grim +playfulness. "Well, then, you can tell him that +I am very much in earnest about my mission. I +mean to succeed." + +"You have been given a mission!" she exclaimed +quickly. + +"It amounts to that. I have been told to bring +about a certain event." + +She looked at him searchingly. + +"A mission," she repeated, very grave and +interested all at once. "What sort of mission?" + +"Something in the nature of propaganda work." + +" Ah ! Far away from here?" + +"No. Not very far," said Razumov, restraining a +sudden desire to laugh, although he did not feel +joyous in the least. + +"So!" she said thoughtfully. "Well, I am not +asking questions. It's sufficient that Peter +Ivanovitch should know what each of us is doing. + Everything is bound to come right in the end." + +"You think so?" + +"I don't think, young man. I just simply +believe it." + +"And is it to Peter Ivanovitch that you owe that +faith?" + +She did not answer the question, and they stood +idle, silent, as if reluctant to part with each +other. + +"That's just like a man," she murmured at last. +"As if it were possible to tell how a belief +comes to one." Her thin Mephistophelian +eyebrows moved a little. "Truly there are +millions of people in Russia who would envy the +life of dogs in this country. It is a horror +and a shame to confess this even between +ourselves. One must believe for very pity. +This can't go on. No! It can't go on. For +twenty years I have been coming and going, +looking neither to the left nor to the right. . +. . What are you smiling to yourself for? You +are only at the beginning. You have begun well, +but you just wait till you have trodden every +particle of yourself under your feet in your +comings and goings. For that is what it comes +to. You've got to trample down every particle +of your own feelings; for stop you cannot, you +must not. I have been young, too--but perhaps +you think that I am complaining-eh?" + +"I don't think anything of the sort," protested +Razumov indifferently. + +"I dare say you don't, you dear superior +creature. You don't care." + +She plunged her fingers into the bunch of hair +on the left side, and that brusque movement had +the effect of setting the Tyrolese hat straight +on her head. She frowned under it without +animosity, in the manner of an investigator. +Razumov averted his face carelessly. + +"You men are all alike. You mistake luck for +merit. You do it in good faith too! I would +not be too hard on you. It's masculine nature. +You men are ridiculously pitiful in your +aptitude to cherish childish illusions down to +the very grave. There are a lot of us who have +been at work for fifteen years--I mean +constantly--trying one way after another, +underground and above ground, looking neither to +the right nor to the left! I can talk about it. + I have been one of these that never rested. . . +. There! What's the use of talking. . . . +Look at my grey hairs! And here two babies come +along--I mean you and Haldin--you come along and +manage to strike a blow at the very first try." + +At the name of Haldin falling from the rapid and +energetic lips of the woman revolutionist, +Razumov had the usual brusque consciousness of +the irrevocable. But in all the months which +had passed over his head he had become hardened +to the experience. The consciousness was no +longer accompanied by the blank dismay and the +blind anger of the early days. He had argued +himself into new beliefs; and he had made for +himself a mental atmosphere of gloomy and +sardonic reverie, a sort of murky medium through +which the event appeared like a featureless +shadow having vaguely the shape of a man; a +shape extremely familiar, yet utterly +inexpressive, except for its air of discreet +waiting in the dusk. It was not alarming. + +"What was he like?" the woman revolutionist +asked unexpectedly. + +"What was he like?" echoed Razumov, making a +painful effort not to turn upon her savagely. +But he relieved himself by laughing a little +while he stole a glance at her out of the +corners of his eyes. This reception of her +inquiry disturbed her. + +"How like a woman," he went on. "What is the +good of concerning yourself with his appearance? + Whatever it was, he is removed beyond all +feminine influences now." + +A frown, making three folds at the root of her +nose, accentuated the Mephistophelian slant of +her eyebrows. + +"You suffer, Razumov," she suggested, in her +low, confident voice. + +"What nonsense!" Razumov faced the woman +fairly. "But now I think of it, I am not sure +that he is beyond the influence of one woman at +least; the one over there--Madame de S---, you +know. Formerly the dead were allowed to rest, +but now it seems they are at the beck and call +of a crazy old harridan. We revolutionists make +wonderful discoveries. It is true that they are +not exactly our own. We have nothing of our +own. But couldn't the friend of Peter +Ivanovitch satisfy your feminine curiosity? +Couldn't she conjure him up for you?"--he jested +like a man in pain. + +Her concentrated frowning expression relaxed, +and she said, a little wearily, "Let us hope she +will make an effort and conjure up some tea for +us. But that is by no means certain. I am +tired, Razumov." + +"You tired! What a confession! Well, there has +been tea up there. I had some. If you hurry on +after Yakovlitch, instead of wasting your time +with such an unsatisfactory sceptical person as +myself, you may find the ghost of it--the cold +ghost of it--still lingering in the temple. But +as to you being tired I can hardly believe it. +We are not supposed to be. We mustn't, We +can't. The other day I read in some paper or +other an alarmist article on the tireless +activity of the revolutionary parties. It +impresses the world. It's our prestige." + +"He flings out continually these flouts and +sneers;" the woman in the crimson blouse spoke +as if appealing quietly to a third person, but +her black eyes never left Razumov's face. "And +what for, pray? Simply because some of his +conventional notions are shocked, some of his +petty masculine standards. You might think he +was one of these nervous sensitives that come to +a bad end. And yet," she went on, after a +short, reflective pause and changing the mode of +her address, "and yet I have just learned +something which makes me think that you are a +man of character, Kirylo Sidorovitch. Yes! +indeed--you are." + +The mysterious positiveness of this assertion +startled Razumov. Their eyes met. He looked +away and, through the bars of the rusty gate, +stared at the clean, wide road shaded by the +leafy trees. An electric tramcar, quite empty, +ran along the avenue with a metallic rustle. It +seemed to him he would have given anything to be +sitting inside all alone. He was inexpressibly +weary, weary in every fibre of his body, but he +had a reason for not being the first to break +off the conversation. At any instant, in the +visionary and criminal babble of revolutionists, +some momentous words might fall on his ear; from +her lips, from anybody's lips. As long as he +managed to preserve a clear mind and to keep +down his irritability there was nothing to fear. + The only condition of success and safety was +indomitable will-power, he reminded himself. + +He longed to be on the other side of the bars, +as though he were actually a prisoner within the +grounds of this centre of revolutionary plots, +of this house of folly, of blindness, of +villainy and crime. Silently he indulged his +wounded spirit in a feeling of immense moral and +mental remoteness. He did not even smile when +he heard her repeat the words-- + +"Yes! A strong character." + +He continued to gaze through the bars like a +moody prisoner, not thinking of escape, but +merely pondering upon the faded memories of +freedom. + +"If you don't look out," he mumbled, still +looking away, "you shall certainly miss seeing +as much as the mere ghost of that tea." + +She was not to be shaken off in such a way. As +a matter of fact he had not expected to succeed. + +"Never mind, it will be no great loss. I mean +the missing of her tea and only the ghost of it +at that. As to the lady, you must understand +that she has her positive uses. See _that_, +Razumov." + +He turned his head at this imperative appeal and +saw the woman revolutionist making the motions +of counting money into the palm of her hand. + +"That's what it is. You see?" + +Razumov uttered a slow "I see," and returned to +his prisoner-like gazing upon the neat and shady +road. + +"Material means must be obtained in some way, +and this is easier than breaking into banks. +More certain too. There! I am joking. . . . +What is he muttering to himself now?" she cried +under her breath. + +"My admiration of Peter Ivanovitch's devoted +self-sacrifice, that's all. It's enough to make +one sick." + +"Oh, you squeamish, masculine creature. Sick! +Makes him sick! And what do you know of the +truth of it? There's no looking into the +secrets of the heart. Peter Ivanovitch knew her +years ago, in his worldly days, when he was a +young officer in the Guards. It is not for us +to judge an inspired person. That's where you +men have an advantage. You are inspired +sometimes both in thought and action. I have +always admitted that when you _are_ inspired, +when you manage to throw off your masculine +cowardice and prudishness you are not to be +equalled by us. Only, how seldom. . . . +Whereas the silliest woman can always be made of +use. And why? Because we have passion, +unappeasable passion. . . . I should like to +know what he is smiling at?" + +"I am not smiling," protested Razumov gloomily. + +"Well! How is one to call it? You made some +sort of face. Yes, I know! You men can love +here and hate there and desire something or +other--and you make a great to-do about it, and +you call it passion! Yes! While it lasts. But +we women are in love with love, and with hate, +with these very things I tell you, and with +desire itself. That's why we can't be bribed +off so easily as you men. In life, you see, +there is not much choice. You have either to +rot or to burn. And there is not one of us, +painted or unpainted, that would not rather burn +than rot." + +She spoke with energy, but in a matter-of-fact +tone. Razumov's attention had wandered away on +a track of its own--outside the bars of the gate- +-but not out of earshot. He stuck his hands +into the pockets of his coat. + +"Rot or burn! Powerfully stated. Painted or +unpainted. Very vigorous. Painted or. . . . +Do tell me--she would be infernally jealous of +him, wouldn't she?" + +"Who? What? The Baroness? Eleanor Maximovna? +Jealous of Peter Ivanovitch? Heavens! Are +these the questions the man's mind is running +on? Such a thing is not to be thought of." + +"Why? Can't a wealthy old woman be jealous? +Or, are they all pure spirits together?" + +"But what put it into your head to ask such a +question?" she wondered. + +"Nothing. I just asked. Masculine frivolity, +if you like." + +"I don't like," she retorted at once. "It is +not the time to be frivolous. What are you +flinging your very heart against? Or, perhaps, +you are only playing a part." + +Razumov had felt that woman's observation of him +like a physical contact, like a hand resting +lightly on his shoulder. At that moment he +received the mysterious impression of her having +made up her mind for a closer grip. He +stiffened himself inwardly to bear it without +betraying himself. + +"Playing a Part," he repeated, presenting to her +an unmoved profile. "It must be done very badly +since you see through the assumption." + +She watched him, her forehead drawn into +perpendicular folds, the thin black eyebrows +diverging upwards like tile antennae of an +insect. He added hardly audibly-- + +"You are mistaken. I am doing it no more than +the rest of us." + +"Who is doing it?" she snapped out. + +"Who? Everybody," he said impatiently. "You +are a materialist, aren't you?" + +"Eh! My dear soul, I have outlived all that +nonsense." + +"But you must remember the definition of +Cabanis: 'Man is a digestive tube.' I imagine +now. . . ." + +"I spit on him." + +"What? On Cabanis? All right. But you can't +ignore the importance of a good digestion. The +joy of life--you know the joy of life?--depends +on a sound stomach, whereas a bad digestion +inclines one to scepticism, breeds black fancies +and thoughts of death. These are facts +ascertained by physiologists. Well, I assure +you that ever since I came over from Russia I +have been stuffed with indigestible foreign +concoctions of the most nauseating kind--pah !" + +"You are joking," she murmured incredulously. +He assented in a detached way. + +"Yes. It is all a joke. It's hardly worth +while talking to a man like me. Yet for that +very reason men have been known to take their +own life." + +"On the contrary, I think it is worth while +talking to you." + +He kept her in the corner of his eye. She +seemed to be thinking out some scathing retort, +but ended by only shrugging her shoulders +slightly. + +"Shallow talk! I suppose one must pardon this +weakness in you," she said, putting a special +accent on the last word. There was something +anxious in her indulgent conclusion. + +Razumov noted the slightest shades in this +conversation, which he had not expected, for +which he was not prepared. That was it. "I was +not prepared," he said to himself. "It has +taken me unawares." It seemed to him that if he +only could allow himself to pant openly like a +dog for a time this oppression would pass away. +"I shall never be found prepared," he thought, +with despair. He laughed a little, saying as +lightly as he could-- + +"Thanks. I don't ask for mercy." Then +affecting a playful uneasiness, "But aren't you +afraid Peter Ivanovitch might suspect us of +plotting something unauthorized together by the +gate here?" + +"No, I am not afraid. You are quite safe from +suspicions while you are with me, my dear young +man." The humorous gleam in her black eyes went +out. "Peter Ivanovitch trusts me," she went on, +quite austerely. "He takes my advice. I am his +right hand, as it were, in certain most +important things. . . . That amuses you what? +Do you think I am boasting?" + +"God forbid. I was just only saying to myself +that Peter Ivanovitch seems to have solved the +woman question pretty completely." + +Even as he spoke he reproached himself for his +words, for his tone. All day long he had been +saying the wrong things. It was folly, worse +than folly. It was weakness; it was this +disease of perversity overcoming his will. Was +this the way to meet speeches which certainly +contained the promise of future confidences from +that woman who apparently had a great store of +secret knowledge and so much influence? Why +give her this puzzling impression? But she did +not seem inimical. There was no anger in her +voice. It was strangely speculative. + +"One does not know what to think, Razumov. You +must have bitten something bitter in your +cradle." Razumov gave her a sidelong glance. + +"H'm! Something bitter? That's an +explanation," he muttered. "Only it was much +later. And don't you think, Sophia Antonovna, +that you and I come from the same cradle?" + +The woman, whose name he had forced himself at +last to pronounce (he had experienced a strong +repugnance in letting it pass his lips), the +woman revolutionist murmured, after a pause-- + +"You mean--Russia?" + +He disdained even to nod. She seemed softened, +her black eyes very still, as though she were +pursuing the simile in her thoughts to all its +tender associations. But suddenly she knitted +her brows in a Mephistophelian frown. + +"Yes. Perhaps no wonder, then. Yes. One lies +there lapped up in evils, watched over by beings +that are worse than ogres, ghouls, and vampires. + They must be driven away, destroyed utterly. +In regard of that task nothing else matters if +men and women are determined and faithful. +That's how I came to feel in the end. The great +thing is not to quarrel amongst ourselves about +all sorts of conventional trifles. Remember +that, Razumov." + +Razumov was not listening. He had even lost the +sense of being watched in a sort of heavy +tranquillity. His uneasiness, his exasperation, +his scorn were blunted at last by all these +trying hours. It seemed to him that now they +were blunted for ever. "I am a match for them +all," he thought, with a conviction too firm to +be exulting. The woman revolutionist had ceased +speaking; he was not looking at her; there was +no one passing along the road. He almost forgot +that he was not alone. He heard her voice +again, curt, businesslike, and yet betraying the +hesitation which had been the real reason of her +prolonged silence. + +"I say, Razumov!" + +Razumov, whose face was turned away from her, +made a grimace like a man who hears a false note. + +"Tell me: is it true that on the very morning of +the deed you actually attended the lectures at +the University?" + +An appreciable fraction of a second elapsed +before the real import of the question reached +him, like a bullet which strikes some time after +the flash of the fired shot. Luckily his +disengaged hand was ready to grip a bar of the +gate. He held it with a terrible force, but his +presence of mind was gone. He could make only a +sort of gurgling, grumpy sound. + +"Come, Kirylo Sidorovitch!" she urged him. "I +know you are not a boastful man. _That_ one +must say for you. You are a silent man. Too +silent, perhaps. You are feeding on some +bitterness of your own. You are not an +enthusiast. You are, perhaps, all the stronger +for that. But you might tell me. One would +like to understand you a little more. I was so +immensely struck. . . . Have you really done +it?" + +He got his voice back. The shot had missed him. + It had been fired at random, altogether, more +like a signal for coming to close quarters. It +was to be a plain struggle for self- +preservation. And she was a dangerous adversary +too. But he was ready for battle; he was so +ready that when he turned towards her not a +muscle of his face moved. + +" Certainly," he said, without animation, +secretly strung up but perfectly sure of +himself. "Lectures--certainly, But what makes +you ask?" + +It was she who was animated. + +"I had it in a letter, written by a young man in +Petersburg; one of us, of course. You were seen- +-you were observed with your notebook, +impassible, taking notes. . . ." + +He enveloped her with his fixed stare. + +"What of that?" + +"I call such coolness superb--that's all. It is +a proof of uncommon strength of character. The +young man writes that nobody could have guessed +from your face and manner the part you had +played only some two hours before--the great, +momentous, glorious part. . . ." + +"Oh no. Nobody could have guessed," assented +Razumov gravely, "because, don't you see, nobody +at that time. . . ." + +"Yes, yes. But all the same you are a man of +exceptional fortitude, it seems. You looked +exactly as usual. It was remembered afterwards +with wonder. . . ." + +"It cost me no effort," Razumov declared, with +the same staring gravity. + +"Then it's almost more wonderful still!" she +exclaimed, and fell silent while Razumov asked +himself whether he had not said there something +utterly unnecessary--or even worse. + +She raised her head eagerly. + +"Your intention was to stay in Russia? You had +planned. . . ." + +"No," interrupted Razumov without haste. "I had +made no plans of any sort." + +"You just simply walked away?" she struck in. + +He bowed his head in slow assent. "Simply-- +yes." He had gradually released his hold on the +bar of the gate, as though he had acquired the +conviction that no random shot could knock him +over now. And suddenly he was inspired to add, +"The snow was coming down very thick, you know." + +She had a slight appreciative movement of the +head, like an expert in such enterprises, very +interested, capable of taking every point +professionally. Razumov remembered something he +had heard. + +"I turned into a narrow side street, you +understand," he went on negligently, and paused +as if it were not worth talking about. Then he +remembered another detail and dropped it before +her, like a disdainful dole to her curiosity. + +"I felt inclined to lie down and go to sleep +there." + +She clicked her tongue at that symptom, very +struck indeed. Then-- + +"But the notebook! The amazing notebook, man. +You don't mean to say you had put it in your +pocket beforehand!" she cried. + +Razumov gave a start. It might have been a sign +of impatience. + +"I went home. Straight home to my rooms," he +said distinctly. + +"The coolness of the man! You dared?" + +"Why not? I assure you I was perfectly calm. +Ha! Calmer than I am now perhaps." + +"I like you much better as you are now than when +you indulge that bitter vein of yours, Razumov. +And nobody in the house saw you return--eh? +That might have appeared queer." + +"No one," Razumov said firmly. "Dvornik, +landlady, girl, all out of the way. I went up +like a shadow. It was a murky morning. The +stairs were dark. I glided up like a phantom. +Fate? Luck? What do you think?" + +"I just see it!" The eyes of the woman +revolutionist snapped darkly. "Well--and then +you considered. . . ." + +Razumov had it all ready in his head. + +"No. I looked at my watch, since you want to +know. There was just time. I took that +notebook, and ran down the stairs on tiptoe. +Have you ever listened to the pit-pat of a man +running round and round the shaft of a deep +staircase? They have a gaslight at the bottom +burning night and day. I suppose it's gleaming +down there now. . . . The sound dies out--the +flame winks. . . ." + +He noticed the vacillation of surprise passing +over the steady curiosity of the black eyes +fastened on his face as if the woman +revolutionist received the sound of his voice +into her pupils instead of her ears. He checked +himself, passed his hand over his forehead, +confused, like a man who has been dreaming aloud. + +"Where could a student be running if not to his +lectures in the morning? At night it's another +matter. I did not care if all the house had +been there to look at me. But I don't suppose +there was anyone. It's best not to be seen or +heard. Aha! The people that are neither seen +nor heard are the lucky ones--in Russia. Don't +you admire my luck?" + +"Astonishing," she said. "If you have luck as +well as determination, then indeed you are +likely to turn out an invaluable acquisition for +the work in hand." + +Her tone was earnest; and it seemed to Razumov +that it was speculative, even as though she were +already apportioning him, in her mind, his share +of the work. Her eyes were cast down. He +waited, not very alert now, but with the grip of +the ever-present danger giving him an air of +attentive gravity. Who could have written about +him in that letter from Petersburg? A fellow +student, surely--some imbecile victim of +revolutionary propaganda, some foolish slave of +foreign, subversive ideals. A long, famine- +stricken, red-nosed figure presented itself to +his mental search. That must have been the +fellow! + +He smiled inwardly at the absolute wrong- +headedness of the whole thing, the self- +deception of a criminal idealist shattering his +existence like a thunder-clap out of a clear +sky, and re-echoing amongst the wreckage in the +false assumptions of those other fools. Fancy +that hungry and piteous imbecile furnishing to +the curiosity of the revolutionist refugees this +utterly fantastic detail! He appreciated it as +by no means constituting a danger. On the +contrary. As things stood it was for his +advantage rather, a piece of sinister luck which +had only to be accepted with proper caution. + +"And yet, Razumov," he heard the musing voice of +the woman, "you have not the face of a lucky +man." She raised her eyes with renewed +interest. "And so that +was the way of it. After doing your work you simply walked off and made for +your rooms. That sort of thing succeeds sometimes. I suppose it was agreed +beforehand that, once the business over, each of you would go his own way?" + +Razumov preserved the seriousness of his expression and the deliberate, if +cautious, manner of speaking. + +"Was not that the best thing to do?" he asked, in a dispassionate tone. "And +anyway," he added, after waiting a moment, " we did not give much thought to +what would come after. We never discussed formally any line of conduct. It +was understood, I think." + +She approved his statement with slight nods. + +"You, of course, wished to remain in Russia?" + +"In St. Petersburg itself," emphasized Razumov. "It was the only safe course +for me. And, moreover, I had nowhere else to go." + +"Yes! Yes! I know. Clearly. And the other--this wonderful Haldin appearing +only to be regretted--you don't know what he intended?" + +Razumov had foreseen that such a question would certainly come to meet him +sooner or later. He raised his hands a little and let them fall helplessly by +his side--nothing more. + +It was the white-haired woman conspirator who was the first to break the +silence. + +"Very curious," she pronounced slowly. "And you did not think, Kirylo +Sidorovitch, that he might perhaps wish to get in touch with you again?" + +Razumov discovered that he could not suppress the trembling of his lips. But +he thought that he owed it to himself to speak. A negative sign would not do +again. Speak he must, if only to get at the bottom of what that St. Petersburg +letter might have contained. + +"I stayed at home next day," he said, bending down a little and plunging his +glance into the black eyes of the woman so that she should not observe the +trembling of his lips. "Yes, I stayed at home. As my actions are remembered +and written about, then perhaps you are aware that I was _not_ seen at the +lectures next day. Eh? You didn't know? Well, I stopped at home-the +live-long day." + +As if moved by his agitated tone, she murmured a sympathetic "I see! It must +have been trying enough." + +"You seem to understand one's feelings," said Razumov steadily. "It was +trying. It was horrible; it was an atrocious day. It was not the last." + +"Yes, I understand. Afterwards, when you heard they had got him. Don't I know +how one feels after losing a comrade in the good fight? One's ashamed of being +left. And I can remember so many. Never mind. They shall be avenged before +long. And what is death? At any rate, it is not a shameful thing like some +kinds of life." + +Razumov felt something stir in his breast, a sort of feeble and unpleasant +tremor. + +"Some kinds of life?" he repeated, looking at her searchingly. + +"The subservient, submissive life. Life? No! Vegetation on the filthy heap +of iniquity which the world is. Life, Razumov, not to be vile must be a +revolt--a pitiless protest--all the time." + +She calmed down, the gleam of suffused tears in her eyes dried out instantly by +the heat of her passion, and it was in her capable, businesslike manner that +she went on-- + +"You understand me, Razumov. You are not an enthusiast, but there is an +immense force of revolt in you. I felt it from the first, directly I set my +eyes on you--you remember--in Zurich. Oh! You are full of bitter revolt. + That is good. Indignation flags sometimes, revenge itself may become a +weariness, but that uncompromising sense of necessity and justice which armed +your and Haldin's hands to strike down that fanatical brute. . . for it was +that--nothing but that! I have been thinking it out. It could have been +nothing else but that." + +Razumov made a slight bow, the irony of which was concealed by an almost +sinister immobility of feature. + +"I can't speak for the dead. As for myself, I can assure you that my conduct +was dictated by necessity and by the sense of--well--retributive justice." + +"Good, that," he said to himself, while her eyes rested upon him, black and +impenetrable like the mental caverns where revolutionary thought should sit +plotting the violent way of its dream of changes. As if anything could be +changed! In this world of men nothing can be changed--neither happiness nor +misery. They can only be displaced at the cost of corrupted consciences and +broken lives--a futile game for arrogant philosophers and sanguinary triflers. + Those thoughts darted through Razumov's head while he stood facing the old +revolutionary hand, the respected, trusted, and influential Sophia Antonovna, +whose word had such a weight in the "active" section of every party. She was +much more representative than the great Peter Ivanovitch. Stripped of +rhetoric, mysticism, and theories, she was the true spirit of destructive +revolution. And she was the personal adversary he had to meet. It gave him a +feeling of triumphant pleasure to deceive her out of her own mouth. The +epigrammatic saying that speech has been given to us for the purpose of +concealing our thoughts came into his mind. Of that cynical theory this was a +very subtle and a very scornful application, flouting in its own words the very +spirit of ruthless revolution, embodied in that woman with her white hair and +black eyebrows, like slightly sinuous lines of Indian ink, drawn together by +the perpendicular folds of a thoughtful frown. + +"That's it. Retributive. No pity!" was the conclusion of her silence. And +this once broken, she went on impulsively in short, vibrating sentences-- + +"Listen to my story, Razumov! . . ." Her father was a clever but unlucky +artisan. No joy had lighted up his laborious days. He died at fifty; all the +years of his life he had panted under the thumb of masters whose rapacity +exacted from him the price of the water, of the salt, of the very air he +breathed; taxed the sweat of his brow and claimed the blood of his sons. No +protection, no guidance! What had society to say to him? Be submissive and be +honest. If you rebel I shall kill you. If you steal I shall imprison you. + But if you suffer I have nothing for you--nothing except perhaps a beggarly +dole of bread--but no consolation for your trouble, no respect for your +manhood, no pity for the sorrows of your miserable life. + +And so he laboured, he suffered, and he died. He died in the hospital. + Standing by the common grave she thought of his tormented existence--she saw +it whole. She reckoned the simple joys of life, the birthright of the +humblest, of which his gentle heart had been robbed by the crime of a society +which nothing can absolve. + +"Yes, Razumov," she continued, in an impressive, lowered voice, "it was like a +lurid light in which I stood, still almost a child, and cursed not the toil, +not the misery which had been his lot, but the great social iniquity of the +system resting on unrequited toil and unpitied sufferings. From that moment I +was a revolutionist." + +Razumov, trying to raise himself above the dangerous weaknesses of contempt or +compassion, had preserved an impassive countenance. She, with an unaffected +touch of mere bitterness, the first he could notice since he had come in +contact with the woman, went on-- + +"As I could not go to the Church where the priests of the system exhorted such +unconsidered vermin as I to resignation, I went to the secret societies as soon +as I knew how to find my way. I was sixteen years old--no more, Razumov! +And--look at my white hair." + +In these last words there was neither pride nor sadness. The bitterness too +was gone. + +"There is a lot of it. I had always magnificent hair, even as a chit of a +girl. Only, at that time we were cutting it short and thinking that there was +the first step towards crushing the social infamy. Crush the Infamy! A fine +watchword! I would placard it on the walls of prisons and palaces, carve it on +hard rocks, hang it out in letters of fire on that empty sky for a sign of hope +and terror--a portent of the end. . . ." + +"You are eloquent, Sophia Antonovna," Razumov interrupted suddenly. "Only, so +far you seem to have been writing it in water. . . ." + +She was checked but not offended. "Who knows? Very soon it may become a fact +written all over that great land of ours," she hinted meaningly. "And then one +would have lived long enough. White hair won't matter." + +Razumov looked at her white hair: and this mark of so many uneasy years seemed +nothing but a testimony to the invincible vigour of revolt. It threw out into +an astonishing relief the unwrinkled face, the brilliant black glance, the +upright compact figure, the simple, brisk self-possession of the mature +personality--as though in her revolutionary pilgrimage she had discovered the +secret, not of everlasting youth, but of everlasting endurance. + +How un-Russian she looked, thought Razumov. Her mother might have been a +Jewess or an Armenian or devil knew what. He reflected that a revolutionist is +seldom true to the settled type. All revolt is the expression of strong +individualism--ran his thought vaguely. One can tell them a mile off in any +society, in any surroundings. It was astonishing that the police. . . . + +"We shall not meet again very soon, I think," she was saying. "I am leaving +to-morrow." + +"For Zurich?" Razumov asked casually, but feeling relieved, not from any +distinct apprehension, but from a feeling of stress as if after a wrestling +match. + +"Yes, Zurich--and farther on, perhaps, much farther. Another journey. When I +think of all my journeys! The last must come some day. Never mind, Razumov. + We had to have a good long talk. I would have certainly tried to see you if +we had not met. Peter Ivanovitch knows where you live? Yes. I meant to have +asked him--but it's better like this. You see, we expect two more men; and I +had much rather wait here talking with you than up there at the house with. . . +." + +Having cast a glance beyond the gate, she interrupted herself. "Here they +are," she said rapidly. "Well, Kirylo Sidorovitch, we shall have to say +good-bye, presently." + + +IV + + +In his incertitude of the ground on which he stood Razumov felt perturbed. + Turning his head quickly, he saw two men on the opposite side of the road. + Seeing themselves noticed by Sophia Antonovna, they crossed over at once, and +passed one after another through the little gate by the side of the empty +lodge. They looked hard at the stranger, but without mistrust, the crimson +blouse being a flaring safety signal. The first, great white hairless face, +double chin, prominent stomach, which he seemed to carry forward consciously +within a strongly distended overcoat, only nodded and averted his eyes +peevishly; his companion--lean, flushed cheekbones, a military red moustache +below a sharp, salient nose--approached at once Sophia Antonovna, greeting her +warmly. His voice was very strong but inarticulate. It sounded like a deep +buzzing. The woman revolutionist was quietly cordial. + +"This is Razumov," she announced in a clear voice. + +The lean new-comer made an eager half-turn. "He will want to embrace me," +thought our young man with a deep recoil of all his being, while his limbs +seemed too heavy to move. But it was a groundless alarm. He had to do now +with a generation of conspirators who did not kiss each other on both cheeks; +and raising an arm that felt like lead he dropped his hand into a +largely-outstretched palm, fleshless and hot as if dried up by fever, giving a +bony pressure, expressive, seeming to say, "Between us there's no need of +words." The man had big, wide-open eyes. Razumov fancied he could see a smile +behind their sadness. + +"This is Razumov," Sophia Antonovna repeated loudly for the benefit of the fat +man, who at some distance displayed the profile of his stomach. + +No one moved. Everything, sounds, attitudes, movements, and immobility seemed +to be part of an experiment, the result of which was a thin voice piping with +comic peevishness-- + +"Oh yes! Razumov. We have been hearing of nothing but Mr. Razumov for months. + For my part, I confess I would rather have seen Haldin on this spot instead of +Mr. Razumov." + +The squeaky stress put on the name "Razumov--Mr. Razumov" pierced the ear +ridiculously, like the falsetto of a circus clown beginning an elaborate joke. + Astonishment was Razumov's first response, followed by sudden indignation. + +"What's the meaning of this?" he asked in a stern tone. + +"Tut! Silliness. He's always like that." Sophia Antonovna was obviously +vexed. But she dropped the information, "Necator," from her lips just loud +enough to be heard by Razumov. The abrupt squeaks of the fat man seemed to +proceed from that thing like a balloon he carried under his overcoat. The +stolidity of his attitude, the big feet, the lifeless, hanging hands, the +enormous bloodless cheek, the thin wisps of hair straggling down the fat nape +of the neck, fascinated Razumov into a stare on the verge of horror and +laughter. + +Nikita, surnamed Necator, with a sinister aptness of alliteration! Razumov had +heard of him. He had heard so much since crossing the frontier of these +celebrities of the militant revolution; the legends, the stories, the authentic +chronicle, which now and then peeps out before a half-incredulous world. + Razumov had heard of him. He was supposed to have killed more, gendarmes and +police agents than any revolutionist living. He had been entrusted with +executions. + +The paper with the letters N.N., the very pseudonym of murder, found pinned on +the stabbed breast of a certain notorious spy (this picturesque detail of a +sensational murder case had got into the newspapers), was the mark of his +handiwork. "By order of the Committee.--N.N." A corner of the curtain lifted +to strike the imagination of the gaping world. He was said to have been +innumerable times in and out of Russia, the Necator of bureaucrats, of +provincial governors, of obscure informers. He lived between whiles, Razumov +had heard, on the shores of the Lake of Como, with a charming wife, devoted to +the cause, and two young children. But how could that creature, so grotesque +as to set town dogs barking at its mere sight, go about on those deadly errands +and slip through the meshes of the police?" + +"What now? what now?" the voice squeaked. "I am only sincere. It's not denied +that the other was the leading spirit. Well, it would have been better if he +had been the one spared to us. More useful. I am not a sentimentalist. Say +what I think. . . only natural." + +Squeak, squeak, squeak, without a gesture, without a stir--the horrible squeaky +burlesque of professional jealousy--this man of a sinister alliterative +nickname, this executioner of revolutionary verdicts, the terrifying N.N. +exasperated like a fashionable tenor by the attention attracted to the +performance of an obscure amateur. Sophia Antonovna shrugged her shoulders. + The comrade with the martial red moustache hurried towards Razumov full of +conciliatory intentions in his strong buzzing voice. + +"Devil take it! And in this place, too, in the public street, so to speak. + But you can see yourself how it is. One of his fantastic sallies. Absolutely +of no consequence." + +"Pray don't concern yourself," cried Razumov, going off into a long fit of +laughter. "Don't mention it." + +The other, his hectic flush like a pair of burns on his cheek-bones, stared for +a moment and burst out laughing too. Razumov, whose hilarity died out all at +once, made a step forward. + +"Enough of this," he began in a clear, incisive voice, though he could hardly +control the trembling of his legs. "I will have no more of it. I shall not +permit anyone. . . . I can see very well what you are at with those allusions. +. . . Inquire, investigate! I defy you, but I will not be played with." + +He had spoken such words before. He had been driven to cry them out in the +face of other suspicions. It was an infernal cycle bringing round that protest +like a fatal necessity of his existence. But it was no use. He would be +always played with. Luckily life does not last for ever. + +"I won't have it!" he shouted, striking his fist into the palm of his other +hand. + +"Kirylo Sidorovitch--what has come to you?" The woman revolutionist interfered +with authority. They were all looking at Razumov now; the slayer of spies and +gendarmes had turned about, presenting his enormous stomach in full, like a +shield. + +"Don't shout. There are people passing." Sophia Antonovna was apprehensive of +another outburst. A steam-launch from Monrepos had come to the landing-stage +opposite the gate, its hoarse whistle and the churning noise alongside all +unnoticed, had landed a small bunch of local passengers who were dispersing +their several ways. Only a specimen of early tourist in knickerbockers, +conspicuous by a brand-new yellow leather glass-case, hung about for a moment, +scenting something unusual about these four people within the rusty iron gates +of what looked the grounds run wild of an unoccupied private house. Ah! If he +had only known what the chance of commonplace travelling had suddenly put in +his way! But he was a well-bred person; he averted his gaze and moved off with +short steps along the avenue, on the watch for a tramcar. + +A gesture from Sophia Antonovna, "Leave him to me," had sent the two men +away--the buzzing of the inarticulate voice growing fainter and fainter, and +the thin pipe of "What now? what's the matter?" reduced to the proportions of a +squeaking toy by the distance. They had left him to her. So many things could +be left safely to the experience of Sophia Antonovna. And at once, her black +eyes turned to Razumov, her mind tried to get at the heart of that outburst. + It had some meaning. No one is born an active revolutionist. The change +comes disturbingly, with the force of a sudden vocation, bringing in its train +agonizing doubts, assertive violences, an unstable state of the soul, till the +final appeasement of the convert in the perfect fierceness of conviction. She +had seen--often had only divined--scores of these young men and young women +going through an emotional crisis. This young man looked like a moody egotist. + And besides, it was a special--a unique case. She had never met an +individuality which interested and puzzled her so much. + +"Take care, Razumov, my good friend. If you carry on like this you will go +mad. You are angry with everybody and bitter with yourself, and on the look +out for something to torment yourself with." + +"It's intolerable!" Razumov could only speak in gasps. " You must admit that +I can have no illusions on the attitude which. . . it isn't clear. . . or +rather only too clear." + +He made a gesture of despair. It was not his courage that failed him. The +choking fumes of falsehood had taken him by the throat--the thought of being +condemned to struggle on and on in that tainted atmosphere without the hope of +ever renewing his strength by a breath of fresh air. + +"A glass of cold water is what you want." Sophia Antonovna glanced up the +grounds at the house and shook her head, then out of the gate at the brimful +placidity of the lake. With a half-comical shrug of the shoulders, she gave +the remedy up in the face of that abundance. + +"It is you, my dear soul, who are flinging yourself at something which does not +exist. What is it? Self-reproach, or what? It's absurd. You couldn't have +gone and given yourself up because your comrade was taken." + +She remonstrated with him reasonably, at some length too. He had nothing to +complain of in his reception. Every new-comer was discussed more or less. + Everybody had to be thoroughly understood before being accepted. No one that +she could remember had been shown from the first so much confidence. Soon, +very soon, perhaps sooner than he expected, he would be given an opportunity of +showing his devotion to the sacred task of crushing the Infamy. + +Razumov, listening quietly, thought: "It may be that she is trying to lull my +suspicions to sleep. On the other hand, it is obvious that most of them are +fools." He moved aside a couple of paces and, folding his arms on his breast, +leaned back against the stone pillar of the gate. + +"As to what remains obscure in the fate of that poor Haldin," Sophia Antonovna +dropped into a slowness of utterance which was to Razumov like the falling of +molten lead drop by drop; "as to that--though no one ever hinted that either +from fear or neglect your conduct has not been what it should have been--well, +I have a bit of intelligence. . . ." + +Razumov could not prevent himself from raising his head, and Sophia Antonovna +nodded slightly. + +"I have. You remember that letter from St. Petersburg I mentioned to you a +moment ago?" + +"The letter? Perfectly. Some busybody has been reporting my conduct on a +certain day. It's rather sickening. I suppose our police are greatly edified +when they open these interesting and--and--superfluous letters." + +"Oh dear no! The police do not get hold of our letters as easily as you +imagine. The letter in question did not leave St. Petersburg till the ice +broke up. It went by the first English steamer which left the Neva this +spring. They have a fireman on board--one of us, in fact. It has reached me +from Hull. . . ." + +She paused as if she were surprised at the sullen fixity of Razumov's gaze, but +went on at once, and much faster. + +"We have some of our people there who . . . but never mind. The writer of the +letter relates an incident which he thinks may possibly be connected with +Haldin's arrest. I was just going to tell you when those two men came along." + +"That also was an incident," muttered Razumov, "of a very charming kind--for +me." + +"Leave off that!" cried Sophia Antonovna." Nobody cares for Nikita's barking. + There's no malice in him. Listen to what I have to say. You may be able to +throw a light. There was in St. Petersburg a sort of town peasant--a man who +owned horses. He came to town years ago to work for some relation as a driver +and ended by owning a cab or two." + +She might well have spared herself the slight effort of the gesture: "Wait!" + Razumov did not mean to speak; he could not have interrupted her now, not to +save his life. The contraction of his facial muscles had been involuntary, a +mere surface stir, leaving him sullenly attentive as before. + +"He was not a quite ordinary man of his class--it seems," she went on. " The +people of the house--my informant talked with many of them--you know, one of +those enormous houses of shame and misery. . . ." + +Sophia Antonovna need not have enlarged on the character of the house. Razumov +saw clearly, towering at her back, a dark mass of masonry veiled in snowflakes, +with the long row of windows of the eating-shop shining greasily very near the +ground. The ghost of that night pursued him. He stood up to it with rage and +with weariness. + +"Did the late Haldin ever by chance speak to you of that house?" Sophia +Antonovna was anxious to know. + +"Yes." Razumov, making that answer, wondered whether he were falling into a +trap. It was so humiliating to lie to these people that he probably could not +have said no. "He mentioned to me once," he added, as if making an effort of +memory, " a house of that sort. He used to visit some workmen there." + +"Exactly." + +Sophia Antonovna triumphed. Her correspondent had discovered that fact quite +accidentally from the talk of the people of the house, having made friends with +a workman who occupied a room there. They described Haldin's appearance +perfectly. He brought comforting words of hope into their misery. He came +irregularly, but he came very often, and--her correspondent wrote--sometimes he +spent a night in the house, sleeping, they thought, in a stable which opened +upon the inner yard. + +"Note that, Razumov! In a stable." + +Razumov had listened with a sort of ferocious but amused acquiescence. + +"Yes. In the straw. It was probably the cleanest spot in the whole house." + +"No doubt," assented the woman with that deep frown which seemed to draw closer +together her black eyes in a sinister fashion. No four-footed beast could +stand the filth and wretchedness so many human beings were condemned to suffer +from in Russia. The point of this discovery was that it proved Haldin to have +been familiar with that horse-owning peasant--a reckless, independent, +free-living fellow not much liked by the other inhabitants of the house. He +was believed to have been the associate of a band of housebreakers. Some of +these got captured. Not while he was driving them, however; but still there +was a suspicion against the fellow of having given a hint to the police and. . +. . + +The woman revolutionist checked herself suddenly. + +"And you? Have you ever heard your friend refer to a certain Ziemianitch?" + +Razumov was ready for the name. He had been looking out for the question. + "When it comes I shall own up," he had said to himself. But he took his time. + +"To be sure!" he began slowly. "Ziemianitch, a peasant owning a team of +horses. Yes. On one occasion. Ziemianitch! Certainly! Ziemianitch of the +horses. . . . How could it have slipped my memory like this? One of the last +conversations we had together." + +"That means,"--Sophia Antonovna looked very grave,--"that means, Razumov, it +was very shortly before--eh?" + +"Before what?" shouted Razumov, advancing at the woman, who looked astonished +but stood her ground. "Before. . . . Oh! Of course, it was before! How could +it have been after? Only a few hours before." + +"And he spoke of him favourably?" + +"With enthusiasm! The horses of Ziemianitch! The free soul of Ziemianitch!" + +Razumov took a savage delight in the loud utterance of that name, which had +never before crossed his lips audibly. He fixed his blazing eyes on the woman +till at last her fascinated expression recalled him to himself. + +"The late Haldin," he said, holding himself in, with downcast eyes, "was +inclined to take sudden fancies to people, on--on--what shall I +say--insufficient grounds." + +"There!" Sophia Antonovna clapped her hands. "That, to my mind, settles it. + The suspicions of my correspondent were aroused. . . ." + +"Aha! Your correspondent," Razumov said in an almost openly mocking tone. " +What suspicions? How aroused? By this Ziemianitch? Probably some drunken, +gabbling, plausible. . . ." + +"You talk as if you had known him." + +Razumov looked up. + +"No. But I knew Haldin." + +Sophia Antonovna nodded gravely. + +"I see. Every word you say confirms to my mind the suspicion communicated to +me in that very interesting letter. This Ziemianitch was found one morning +hanging from a hook in the stable--dead." + +Razumov felt a profound trouble. It was visible, because Sophia Antonovna was +moved to observe vivaciously-- + +"Aha! You begin to see." + +He saw it clearly enough--in the light of a lantern casting spokes of shadow in +a cellar-like stable, the body in a sheepskin coat and long boots hanging +against the wall. A pointed hood, with the ends wound about up to the eyes, +hid the face. "But that does not concern me," he reflected. "It does not +affect my position at all. He never knew who had thrashed him. He could not +have known." Razumov felt sorry for the old lover of the bottle and women. + +"Yes. Some of them end like that," he muttered. "What is your idea, Sophia +Antonovna?" + +It was really the idea of her correspondent, but Sophia Antonovna had adopted +it fully. She stated it in one word--"Remorse." Razumov opened his eyes very +wide at that. Sophia Antonovna's informant, by listening to the talk of the +house, by putting this and that together, had managed to come very near to the +truth of Haldin's relation to Ziemianitch. + +"It is I who can tell you what you were not certain of--that your friend had +some plan for saving himself afterwards, for getting out of St. Petersburg, at +any rate. Perhaps that and no more, trusting to luck for the rest. And that +fellow's horses were part of the plan." + +"They have actually got at the truth," Razumov marvelled to himself, while he +nodded judicially. "Yes, that's possible, very possible." But the woman +revolutionist was very positive that it was so. First of all, a conversation +about horses between Haldin and Ziemianitch had been partly overheard. Then +there were the suspicions of the people in the house when their "young +gentleman" (they did not know Haldin by his name) ceased to call at the house. + Some of them used to charge Ziemianitch with knowing something of this +absence. He denied it with exasperation; but the fact was that ever since +Haldin's disappearance he was not himself, growing moody and thin. Finally, +during a quarrel with some woman (to whom he was making up), in which most of +the inmates of the house took part apparently, he was openly abused by his +chief enemy, an athletic pedlar, for an informer, and for having driven '' our +young gentleman to Siberia, the same as you did those young fellows who broke +into houses." In consequence of this there was a fight, and Ziemianitch got +flung down a flight of stairs. Thereupon he drank and moped for a week, and +then hanged himself. + +Sophia Antonovna drew her conclusions from the tale. She charged Ziemianitch +either with drunken indiscretion as to a driving job on a certain date, +overheard by some spy in some low grog-shop--perhaps in the very eating-shop on +the ground floor of the house--or, maybe, a downright denunciation, followed by +remorse. A man like that would be capable of anything. People said he was a +flighty old chap. And if he had been once before mixed up with the police--as +seemed certain, though he always denied it--in connexion with these thieves, he +would be sure to be acquainted with some police underlings, always on the look +out for something to report. Possibly at first his tale was not made anything +of till the day that scoundrel de P--- got his deserts. Ah! But then every +bit and scrap of hint and information would be acted on, and fatally they were +bound to get Haldin. + +Sophia Antonovna spread out her hands--" Fatally." + +Fatality--chance! Razumov meditated in silent astonishment upon the queer +verisimilitude of these inferences. They were obviously to his advantage. + +"It is right now to make this conclusive evidence known generally." Sophia +Antonovna was very calm and deliberate again. She had received the letter +three days ago, but did not write at once to Peter Ivanovitch. She knew then +that she would have the opportunity presently of meeting several men of action +assembled for an important purpose. + +"I thought it would be more effective if I could show the letter itself at +large. I have it in my pocket now. You understand how pleased I was to come +upon you." + +Razumov was saying to himself," She won't offer to show the letter to me. Not +likely. Has she told me everything that correspondent of hers has found out?" + He longed to see the letter, but he felt he must not ask. + +"Tell me, please, was this an investigation ordered, as it were?" + +"No, no," she protested. "There you are again with your sensitiveness. It +makes you stupid. Don't you see, there was no starting-point for an +investigation even if any one had thought of it. A perfect blank! That's +exactly what some people were pointing out as the reason for receiving you +cautiously. It was all perfectly accidental, arising from my informant +striking an acquaintance with an intelligent skindresser lodging in that +particular slum-house. A wonderful coincidence!" + +"A pious person," suggested Razumov, with a pale smile, "would say that the +hand of God has done it all." + +"My poor father would have said that." Sophia Antonovna did not smile. She +dropped her eyes." Not that his God ever helped him. It's a long time since +God has done anything for the people. Anyway, it's done." + +"All this would be quite final," said Razumov, with every appearance of +reflective impartiality, "if there was any certitude that the 'our young +gentleman' of these people was Victor Haldin. Have we got that?" + +"Yes. There's no mistake. My correspondent was as familiar with Haldin's +personal appearance as with your own," the woman affirmed decisively. + +"It's the red-nosed fellow beyond a doubt," Razumov said to himself, with +reawakened uneasiness. Had his own visit to that accursed house passed +unnoticed? It was barely possible. Yet it was hardly probable. It was just +the right sort of food for the popular gossip that gaunt busybody had been +picking up. But the letter did not seem to contain any allusion to that. + Unless she had suppressed it. And, if so, why? If it had really escaped the +prying of that hunger-stricken democrat with a confounded genius for +recognizing people from description, it could only be for a time. He would +come upon it presently and hasten to write another letter--and then! + +For all the envenomed recklessness of his temper, fed on hate and disdain, +Razumov shuddered inwardly. It guarded him from common fear, but it could not +defend him from disgust at being dealt with in any way by these people. It was +a sort of superstitious dread. Now, since his position had been made more +secure by their own folly at the cost of Ziemianitch, he felt the need of +perfect safety, with its freedom from direct lying, with its power of moving +amongst them silent, unquestioning, listening, impenetrable, like the very fate +of their crimes and their folly. Was this advantage his already? Or not yet? + Or never would be? + +"Well, Sophia Antonovna," his air of reluctant concession was genuine in so far +that he was really loath to part with her without testing her sincerity by a +question it was impossible to bring about in any way; "well, Sophia Antonovna, +if that is so, then--" + +"The creature has done justice to himself," the woman observed, as if thinking +aloud. + +"What? Ah yes! Remorse," Razumov muttered, with equivocal contempt. + +"Don't be harsh, Kirylo Sidorovitch, if you have lost a friend." There was no +hint of softness in her tone, only the black glitter of her eyes seemed +detached for an instant from vengeful visions. "He was a man of the people. + The simple Russian soul is never wholly impenitent. It's something to know +that." + +"Consoling?" insinuated Razumov, in a tone of inquiry. + +"Leave off railing," she checked him explosively. "Remember, Razumov, that +women, children, and revolutionists hate irony, which is the negation of all +saving instincts, of all faith, of all devotion, of all action. Don't rail! + Leave off. . . . I don't know how it is, but there are moments when you are +abhorrent to me. . . ." + +She averted her face. A languid silence, as if all the electricity of the +situation had been discharged in this flash of passion, lasted for some time. + Razumov had not flinched. Suddenly she laid the tips of her fingers on his +sleeve. + +"Don't mind." + +"I don't mind," he said very quietly. + +He was proud to feel that she could read nothing on his face. He was really +mollified, relieved, if only for a moment, from an obscure oppression. And +suddenly he asked himself, "Why the devil did I go to that house? It was an +imbecile thing to do." + +A profound disgust came over him. Sophia Antonovna lingered, talking in a +friendly manner with an evident conciliatory intention. And it was still about +the famous letter, referring to various minute details given by her informant, +who had never seen Ziemianitch. The "victim of remorse" had been buried +several weeks before her correspondent began frequenting the house. It--the +house--contained very good revolutionary material. The spirit of the heroic +Haldin had passed through these dens of black wretchedness with a promise of +universal redemption from all the miseries that oppress mankind. Razumov +listened without hearing, gnawed by the newborn desire of safety with its +independence from that degrading method of direct lying which at times he found +it almost impossible to practice. + +No. The point he wanted to hear about could never come into this conversation. + There was no way of bringing it forward. He regretted not having composed a +perfect story for use abroad, in which his fatal connexion with the house might +have been owned up to. But when he left Russia he did not know that +Ziemianitch had hanged himself. And, anyway, who could have foreseen this +woman's "informant" stumbling upon that particular slum, of all the slums +awaiting destruction in the purifying flame of social revolution? Who could +have foreseen? Nobody! "It's a perfect, diabolic surprise," thought Razumov, +calm-faced in his attitude of inscrutable superiority, nodding assent to Sophia +Antonovna's remarks upon the psychology of "the people," "Oh yes--certainly," +rather coldly, but with a nervous longing in his fingers to tear some sort of +confession out of her throat. + +Then, at the very last, on the point of separating, the feeling of relaxed +tension already upon him, he heard Sophia Antonovna allude to the subject of +his uneasiness. How it came about he could only guess, his mind being absent +at the moment, but it must have sprung from Sophia Antonovna's complaints of +the illogical absurdity of the people. For instance--that Ziemianitch was +notoriously irreligious, and yet, in the last weeks of his life, he suffered +from the notion that he had been beaten by the devil. + +"The devil," repeated Razumov, as though he had not heard aright. + +"The actual devil. The devil in person. You may well look astonished, Kirylo +Sidorovitch. Early on the very night poor Haldin was taken, a complete +stranger turned up and gave Ziemianitch a most fearful thrashing while he was +lying dead-drunk in the stable. The wretched creature's body was one mass of +bruises. He showed them to the people in the house." + +"But you, Sophia Antonovna, you don't believe in the actual devil?" + +"Do you?" retorted the woman curtly. "Not but that there are plenty of men +worse than devils to make a hell of this earth," she muttered to herself. + +Razumov watched her, vigorous and white-haired, with the deep fold between her +thin eyebrows, and her black glance turned idly away. It was obvious that she +did not make much of the story--unless, indeed, this was the perfection of +duplicity. "A dark young man," she explained further. "Never seen there +before, never seen afterwards. Why are you smiling, Razumov?" + +"At the devil being still young after all these ages," he answered composedly. + "But who was able to describe him, since the victim, you say, was dead-drunk +at the time?" + +"Oh! The eating-house keeper has described him. An overbearing, swarthy young +man in a student's cloak, who came rushing in, demanded Ziemianitch, beat him +furiously, and rushed away without a word, leaving the eating-house keeper +paralysed with astonishment." + +"Does he, too, believe it was the devil?" + +"That I can't say. I am told he's very reserved on the matter. Those sellers +of spirits are great scoundrels generally. I should think he knows more of it +than anybody." + +"Well, and you, Sophia Antonovna, what's your theory?" asked Razumov in a tone +of great interest. "Yours and your informant's, who is on the spot." + +"I agree with him. Some police-hound in disguise. Who else could beat a +helpless man so unmercifully? As for the rest, if they were out that day on +every trail, old and new, it is probable enough that they might have thought it +just as well to have Ziemianitch at hand for more information, or for +identification, or what not. Some scoundrelly detective was sent to fetch him +along, and being vexed at finding him so drunk broke a stable fork over his +ribs. Later on, after they had the big game safe in the net, they troubled +their heads no more about that peasant." + +Such were the last words of the woman revolutionist in this conversation, +keeping so close to the truth, departing from it so far in the verisimilitude +of thoughts and conclusions as to give one the notion of the invincible nature +of human error, a glimpse into the utmost depths of self-deception. Razumov, +after shaking hands with Sophia Antonovna, left the grounds, crossed the road, +and walking out on the little steamboat pier leaned over the rail. + +His mind was at ease; ease such as he had not known for many days, ever since +that night. . . the night. The conversation with the woman revolutionist had +given him the view of his danger at the very moment this danger vanished, +characteristically enough. "I ought to have foreseen the doubts that would +arise in those people's minds," he thought. Then his attention being attracted +by a stone of peculiar shape, which he could see clearly lying at the bottom, +he began to speculate as to the depth of water in that spot. But very soon, +with a start of wonder at this extraordinary instance of ill-timed detachment, +he returned to his train of thought. "I ought to have told very circumstantial +lies from the first," he said to himself, with a mortal distaste of the mere +idea which silenced his mental utterance for quite a perceptible interval. + "Luckily, that's all right now," he reflected, and after a time spoke to +himself, half aloud, "Thanks to the devil," and laughed a little. + +The end of Ziemianitch then arrested his wandering thoughts. He was not +exactly amused at the interpretation, but he could not help detecting- in it a +certain piquancy. He owned to himself that, had he known of that suicide +before leaving Russia, he would have been incapable of making such excellent +use of it for his own purposes. He ought to be infinitely obliged to the +fellow with the red nose for his patience and ingenuity, "A wonderful +psychologist apparently," he said to himself sarcastically. Remorse, indeed! + It was a striking example of your true conspirator's blindness, of the stupid +subtlety of people with one idea. This was a drama of love, not of conscience, +Razumov continued to himself mockingly. A woman the old fellow was making up +to! A robust pedlar, clearly a rival, throwing him down a flight of stairs. . +. . And at sixty, for a lifelong lover, it was not an easy matter to get over. + That was a feminist of a different stamp from Peter Ivanovitch. Even the +comfort of the bottle might conceivably fail him in this supreme crisis. At +such an age nothing but a halter could cure the pangs of an unquenchable +passion. And, besides, there was the wild exasperation aroused by the unjust +aspersions and the contumely of the house, with the maddening impossibility to +account for that mysterious thrashing, added to these simple and bitter +sorrows. "Devil, eh?" Razumov exclaimed, with mental excitement, as if he had +made an interesting discovery. "Ziemianitch ended by falling into mysticism. + So many of our true Russian souls end in that way! Very characteristic." He +felt pity for Ziemianitch, a large neutral pity, such as one may feel for an +unconscious multitude, a great people seen from above--like a community of +crawling ants working out its destiny. It was as if this Ziemianitch could not +possibly have done anything else. And Sophia Antonovna's cocksure and +contemptuous "some police-hound" was characteristically Russian in another way. + But there was no tragedy there. This was a comedy of errors. It was as if +the devil himself were playing a game with all of them in turn. First with +him, then with Ziemianitch, then with those revolutionists. The devil's own +game this. . . . He interrupted his earnest mental soliloquy with a jocular +thought at his own expense. "Hallo! I am falling into mysticism too." + +His mind was more at ease than ever. Turning about he put his back against the +rail comfortably. "All this fits with marvellous aptness," he continued to +think. "The brilliance of my reputed exploit is no longer darkened by the fate +of my supposed colleague. The mystic Ziemianitch accounts for that. An +incredible chance has served me. No more need of lies. I shall have only to +listen and to keep my scorn from getting the upper hand of my caution." + +He sighed, folded his arms, his chin dropped on his breast, and it was a long +time before he started forward from that pose, with the recollection that he +had made up his mind to do something important that day. What it was he could +not immediately recall, yet he made no effort of memory, for he was uneasily +certain that he would remember presently. + +He had not gone more than a hundred yards towards the town when he slowed down, +almost faltered in his walk, at the sight of a figure walking in the contrary +direction, draped in a cloak, under a soft, broad-brimmed hat, picturesque but +diminutive, as if seen through the big end of an opera-glass. It was +impossible to avoid that tiny man, for there was no issue for retreat. + +"Another one going to that mysterious meeting," thought Razumov. He was right +in his surmise, only _this_ one, unlike the others who came from a distance, +was known to him personally. Still, he hoped to pass on with a mere bow, but +it was impossible to ignore the little thin hand with hairy wrist and knuckles +protruded in a friendly wave from under the folds of the cloak, worn +Spanish-wise, in disregard of a fairly warm day, a corner flung over the +shoulder. + +"And how is Herr Razumov?" sounded the greeting in German, by that alone made +more odious to the object of the affable recognition. At closer quarters the +diminutive personage looked like a reduction of an ordinary-sized man, with a +lofty brow bared for a moment by the raising of the hat, the great pepper-and +salt full beard spread over the proportionally broad chest. A fine bold nose +jutted over a thin mouth hidden in the mass of fine hair. All this, accented +features, strong limbs in their relative smallness, appeared delicate without +the slightest sign of debility. The eyes alone, almond-shaped and brown, were +too big, with the whites slightly bloodshot by much pen labour under a lamp. + The obscure celebrity of the tiny man was well known to Razumov. Polyglot, of +unknown parentage, of indefinite nationality, anarchist, with a pedantic and +ferocious temperament, and an amazingly inflammatory capacity for invective, he +was a power in the background, this violent pamphleteer clamouring for +revolutionary justice, this Julius Laspara, editor of the _Living Word_, +confidant of conspirators, inditer of sanguinary menaces and manifestos, +suspected of being in the secret of every plot. Laspara lived in the old town +in a sombre, narrow house presented to him by a naive middle-class admirer of +his humanitarian eloquence. With him lived his two daughters, who overtopped +him head and shoulders, and a pasty-faced, lean boy of six, languishing in the +dark rooms in blue cotton overalls and clumsy boots, who might have belonged to +either one of them or to neither. No stranger could tell. Julius Laspara no +doubt knew which of his girls it was who, after casually vanishing for a few +years, had as casually returned to him possessed of that child; but, with +admirable pedantry, he had refrained from asking her for details--no, not so +much as the name of the father, because maternity should be an anarchist +function. Razumov had been admitted twice to that suite of several small dark +rooms on the top floor: dusty window-panes, litter of all sorts of sweepings +all over the place, half-full glasses of tea forgotten on every table, the two +Laspara daughters prowling about enigmatically silent, sleepy-eyed, corsetless, +and generally, in their want of shape and the disorder of their rumpled attire, +resembling old dolls; the great but obscure Julius, his feet twisted round his +three-legged stool, always ready to receive the visitors, the pen instantly +dropped, the body screwed round with a striking display of the lofty brow and +of the great austere beard. When he got down from his stool it was as though +he had descended from the heights of Olympus. He was dwarfed by his daughters, +by the furniture, by any caller of ordinary stature. But he very seldom left +it, and still more rarely was seen walking in broad daylight. + +It must have been some matter of serious importance which had driven him out in +that direction that afternoon. Evidently he wished to be amiable to that young +man whose arrival had made some sensation in the world of political refugees. + In Russian now, which he spoke, as he spoke and wrote four or five other +European languages, without distinction and without force (other than that of +invective), he inquired if Razumov had taken his inscriptions at the University +as yet. And the young man, shaking his head negatively-- + +"There's plenty of time for that. But, meantime, are you not going to write +something for us?" + +He could not understand how any one could refrain from writing on anything, +social, economic, historical--anything. Any subject could be treated in the +right spirit, and for the ends of social revolution. And, as it happened, a +friend of his in London had got in touch with a review of advanced ideas. "We +must educate, educate everybody--develop the great thought of absolute liberty +and of revolutionary justice." + +Razumov muttered rather surlily that he did not even know English. + +"Write in Russian. We'll have it translated There can be no difficulty. Why, +without seeking further, there is Miss Haldin. My daughters go to see her +sometimes." He nodded significantly. " She does nothing, has never done +anything in her life. She would be quite competent, with a little assistance. + Only write. You know you must. And so good-bye for the present." + +He raised his arm and went on. Razumov backed against the low wall, looked +after him, spat violently, and went on his way with an angry mutter-- + +"Cursed Jew!" + +He did not know anything about it. Julius Laspara might have been a +Transylvanian, a Turk, an Andalusian, or a citizen of one of the Hanse towns +for anything he could tell to the contrary. But this is not a story of the +West, and this exclamation must be recorded, accompanied by the comment that it +was merely an expression of hate and contempt, best adapted to the nature of +the feelings Razumov suffered from at the time. He was boiling with rage, as +though he had been grossly insulted. He walked as if blind, following +instinctively the shore of the diminutive harbour along the quay, through a +pretty, dull garden, where dull people sat on chairs under the trees, till, his +fury abandoning him, he discovered himself in the middle of a long, broad +bridge. He slowed down at once. To his right, beyond the toy-like jetties, he +saw the green slopes framing the Petit Lac in all the marvellous banality of +the picturesque made of painted cardboard, with the more distant stretch of +water inanimate and shining like a piece of tin. + +He turned his head away from that view for the tourists, and walked on slowly, +his eyes fixed on the ground. One or two persons had to get out of his way, +and then turned round to give a surprised stare to his profound absorption. + The insistence of the celebrated subversive journalist rankled in his mind +strangely. Write. Must write! He! Write! A sudden light flashed upon him. + To write was the very thing he had made up his mind to do that day. He had +made up his mind irrevocably to that step and then had forgotten all about it. + That incorrigible tendency to escape from the grip of the situation was +fraught with serious danger. He was ready to despise himself for it. What was +it? Levity, or deep-seated weakness? Or an unconscious dread?" + +"Is it that I am shrinking? It can't be! It's impossible. To shrink now +would be worse than moral suicide; it would be nothing less than moral +damnation," he thought. "Is it possible that I have a conventional conscience? +" + +He rejected that hypothesis with scorn, and, checked on the edge of the +pavement, made ready to cross the road and proceed up the wide street facing +the head of the bridge; and that for no other reason except that it was there +before him. But at the moment a couple of carriages and a slow-moving cart +interposed, and suddenly he turned sharp to the left, following the quay again, +but now away from the lake. + +"It may be just my health," he thought, allowing himself a very unusual doubt +of his soundness; for, with the exception of a childish ailment or two, he had +never been ill in his life. But that was a danger, too. Only, it seemed as +though he were being looked after in a specially remarkable way. "If I +believed in an active Providence," Razumov said to himself, amused grimly, "I +would see here the working of an ironical finger. To have a Julius Laspara put +in my way as if expressly to remind me of my purpose is-- Write, he had said. + I must write--I must, indeed! I shall write--never fear. Certainly. That's +why I am here. And for the future I shall have something to write about." + +He was exciting himself by this mental soliloquy. But the idea of writing +evoked the thought of a place to write in, of shelter, of privacy, and +naturally of his lodgings, mingled with a distaste for the necessary exertion +of getting there, with a mistrust as of some hostile influence awaiting him +within those odious four walls. + +"Suppose one of these revolutionists," he asked himself, "were to take a fancy +to call on me while I am writing?" The mere prospect of such an interruption +made him shudder. One could lock one's door, or ask the tobacconist downstairs +(some sort of a refugee himself) to tell inquirers that one was not in. Not +very good precautions those. The manner of his life, he felt, must be kept +clear of every cause for suspicion or even occasion for wonder, down to such +trifling occurrences as a delay in opening a locked door. "I wish I were in +the middle of some field miles away from everywhere," he thought. + +He had unconsciously turned to the left once more and now was aware of being on +a bridge again. This one was much narrower than the other, and instead of +being straight, made a sort of elbow or angle. At the point of that angle a +short arm joined it to a hexagonal islet with a soil of gravel and its shores +faced with dressed stone, a perfection of puerile neatness. A couple of tall +poplars and a few other trees stood grouped on the clean, dark gravel, and +under them a few garden benches and a bronze effigy of Jean Jacques Rousseau +seated on its pedestal. + +On setting his foot on it Razumov became aware that, except for the woman in +charge of the refreshment chalet, he would be alone on the island. There was +something of naive, odious, and inane simplicity about that unfrequented tiny +crumb of earth named after Jean Jacques Rousseau. Something pretentious and +shabby, too. He asked for a glass of milk, which he drank standing, at one +draught (nothing but tea had passed his lips since the morning), and was going +away with a weary, lagging step when a thought stopped him short. He had found +precisely what he needed. If solitude could ever be secured in the open air in +the middle of a town, he would have it there on this absurd island, together +with the faculty of watching the only approach. + +He went back heavily to a garden seat, dropped into it. This was the place for +making a beginning of that writing which had to be done. The materials he had +on him. "I shall always come here," he said to himself, and afterwards sat for +quite a long time motionless, without thought and sight and hearing, almost +without life. He sat long enough for the declining sun to dip behind the roofs +of the town at his back, and throw the shadow of the houses on the lake front +over the islet, before he pulled out of his pocket a fountain pen, opened a +small notebook on his knee, and began to write quickly, raising his eyes now +and then at the connecting arm of the bridge. These glances were needless; + the people crossing over in the distance seemed unwilling even to look at the +islet where the exiled effigy of the author of the _Social Contract_ sat +enthroned above the bowed head of Razumov in the sombre immobility of bronze. + After finishing his scribbling, Razumov, with a sort of feverish haste, put +away the pen, then rammed the notebook into his pocket, first tearing out the +written pages with an almost convulsive brusqueness. But the folding of the +flimsy batch on his knee was executed with thoughtful nicety. That done, he +leaned back in his seat and remained motionless, the papers holding in his left +hand. The twilight had deepened. He got up and began to pace to and fro +slowly under the trees. + +"There can be no doubt that now I am safe," he thought. His fine ear could +detect the faintly accentuated murmurs of the current breaking against the +point of the island, and he forgot himself in listening to them with interest. + But even to his acute sense of hearing the sound was too elusive. + +"Extraordinary occupation I am giving myself up to," he murmured. And it +occurred to him that this was about the only sound he could listen to +innocently, and for his own pleasure, as it were. Yes, the sound of water, the +voice of the wind--completely foreign to human passions. All the other sounds +of this earth brought contamination to the solitude of a soul. + +This was Mr. Razumov's feeling, the soul, of course, being his own, and the +word being used not in the theological sense, but standing, as far as I can +understand it, for that part of Mr. Razumov which was not his body, and more +specially in danger from the fires of this earth. And it must be admitted that +in Mr. Razumov's case the bitterness of solitude from which he suffered was not +an altogether morbid phenomenon. + + + +PART FOUR + + + +I + + +That I should, at the beginning of this retrospect, mention again that Mr. +Razumov's youth had no one in the world, as literally no one as it can be +honestly affirmed of any human being, is but a statement of fact from a man who +believes in the psychological value of facts. There is also, perhaps, a desire +of punctilious fairness. Unidentified with anyone in this narrative where the +aspects of honour and shame are remote from the ideas of the Western world, and +taking my stand on the ground of common humanity, it is for that very reason +that I feel a strange reluctance to state baldly here what every reader has +most likely already discovered himself. Such reluctance may appear absurd if +it were not for the thought that because of the imperfection of language there +is always something ungracious (and even disgraceful) in the exhibition of +naked truth. But the time has come when Councillor of State Mikulin can no +longer be ignored. His simple question "Where to?" on which we left Mr. +Razumov in St. Petersburg, throws a light on the general meaning of this +individual case. + +"Where to?" was the answer in the form of a gentle question to what we may call +Mr. Razumov's declaration of independence. The question was not menacing in +the least and, indeed, had the ring of innocent inquiry. Had it been taken in +a merely topographical sense, the only answer to it would have appeared +sufficiently appalling to Mr Razumov. Where to? Back to his rooms, where the +Revolution had sought him out to put to a sudden test his dormant instincts, +his half-conscious thoughts and almost wholly unconscious ambitions, by the +touch as of some furious and dogmatic religion, with its call to frantic +sacrifices, its tender resignations, its dreams and hopes uplifting the soul by +the side of the most sombre moods of despair. And Mr. Razumov had let go the +door-handle and had come back to the middle of the room, asking Councillor +Mikulin angrily, "What do you mean by it" + +As far as I can tell, Councillor Mikulin did not answer that question. He drew +Mr. Razumov into familiar conversation. It is the peculiarity of Russian +natures that, however strongly engaged in the drama of action, they are still +turning their ear to the murmur of abstract ideas. This conversation (and +others later on) need not be recorded. Suffice it to say that it brought Mr. +Razumov as we know him to the test of another faith. There was nothing +official in its expression, and Mr. Razumov was led to defend his attitude of +detachment. But Councillor Mikulin would have none of his arguments. "For a +man like you," were his last weighty words in the discussion, "such a position +is impossible. Don't forget that I have seen that interesting piece of paper. + I understand your liberalism. I have an intellect of that kind myself. + Reform for me is mainly a question of method. But the principle of revolt is +a physical intoxication, a sort of hysteria which must be kept away from the +masses. You agree to this without reserve, don't you? Because, you see, +Kirylo Sidorovitch, abstention, reserve, in certain situations, come very near +to political crime. The ancient Greeks understood that very well." + +Mr. Razumov, listening with a faint smile, asked Councillor Mikulin point-blank +if this meant that he was going to have him watched. + +The high official took no offence at the cynical inquiry. + +"No, Kirylo Sidorovitch," he answered gravely. "I don't mean to have you +watched." + +Razumov, suspecting a lie, affected yet the greatest liberty of mind during the +short remainder of that interview. The older man expressed himself throughout +in familiar terms, and with a sort of shrewd simplicity. Razumov concluded +that to get to the bottom of that mind was an impossible feat. A great +disquiet made his heart beat quicker. The high official, issuing from behind +the desk, was actually offering to shake hands with him. + +"Good-bye, Mr Razumov. An understanding between intelligent men is always a +satisfactory occurrence. Is it not? And, of course, these rebel gentlemen +have not the monopoly of intelligence." + +"I presume that I shall not be wanted any more?" Razumov brought out that +question while his hand was still being grasped. Councillor Mikulin released +it slowly. + +"That, Mr. Razumov," he said with great earnestness, "is as it may be. God +alone knows the future. But you may rest assured that I never thought of +having you watched. You are a young man of great independence. Yes. You are +going away free as air, but you shall end by coming back to us." + +"I! I!" Razumov exclaimed in an appalled murmur of protest. "What for?" he +added feebly. + +"Yes! You yourself, Kirylo Sidorovitch," the high police functionary insisted +in a low, severe tone of conviction. "You shall be coming back to us. Some of +our greatest minds had to do that in the end." + +You have no better friend than Prince K---, and as to myself it is a long time +now since I've been honoured by his. . . ." + +He glanced down his beard. + +"I won't detain you any longer. We live in difficult times, in times of +monstrous chimeras and evil dreams and criminal follies. We shall certainly +meet once more. It may be some little time, though, before we do. Till then +may Heaven send you fruitful reflections!" Once in the street, Razumov started +off rapidly, without caring for the direction. At first he thought of nothing; +but in a little while the consciousness of his position presented itself to him +as something so ugly, dangerous, and absurd, the difficulty of ever freeing +himself from the toils of that complication so insoluble, that the idea of +going back and, as he termed it to himself, confessing to Councillor Mikulin +flashed through his mind. + +Go back! What for? Confess! To what? "I have been speaking to him with the +greatest openness," he said to himself with perfect truth. "What else could I +tell him? That I have undertaken to carry a message to that brute Ziemianitch? + Establish a false complicity and destroy what chance of safety I have won for +nothing--what folly!" + +Yet he could not defend himself from fancying that Councillor Mikulin was, +perhaps, the only man in the world able to understand his conduct. To be +understood appeared extremely fascinating. + +On the way home he had to stop several times; all his strength seemed to run +out of his limbs; and in the movement of the busy streets, isolated as if in a +desert, he remained suddenly motionless for a minute or so before he could +proceed on his way. He reached his rooms at last + +Then came an illness, something in the nature of a low fever, which all at once +removed him to a great distance from the perplexing actualities, from his very +room, even. He never lost consciousness; he only seemed to himself to be +existing languidly somewhere very far away from everything that had ever +happened to him. He came out of this state slowly, with an effect, that is to +say, of extreme slowness, though the actual number of days was not very great. + And when he had got back into the middle of things they were all changed, +subtly and provokingly in their nature: inanimate objects, human faces, the +landlady, the rustic servant-girl, the staircase, the streets, the very air. + He tackled these changed conditions in a spirit of severity. He walked to and +fro to the University, ascended stairs, paced the passages, listened to +lectures, took notes, crossed courtyards in angry aloofness, his teeth set hard +till his jaws ached. + +He was perfectly aware of madcap Kostia gazing like a young retriever from a +distance, of the famished student with the red drooping nose, keeping +scrupulously away as desired; of twenty others, perhaps, he knew well enough to +speak to. And they all had an air of curiosity and concern as if they expected +something to happen. "This can't last much longer," thought Razumov more than +once. On certain days he was afraid that anyone addressing him suddenly in a +certain way would make him scream out insanely a lot of filthy abuse. Often, +after returning home, he would drop into a chair in his cap and cloak and +remain still for hours holding some book he had got from the library in his +hand; or he would pick up the little penknife and sit there scraping his nails +endlessly and feeling furious all the time--simply furious. "This is +impossible," he would mutter suddenly to the empty room. + +Fact to be noted: this room might conceivably have become physically repugnant +to him, emotionally intolerable, morally uninhabitable. But no. Nothing of +the sort (and he had himself dreaded it at first), nothing of the sort +happened. On the contrary, he liked his lodgings better than any other shelter +he, who had never known a home, had ever hired before. He liked his lodgings +so well that often, on that very account, he found a certain difficulty in +making up his mind to go out. It resembled a physical seduction such as, for +instance, makes a man reluctant to leave the neighbourhood of a fire on a cold +day. + +For as, at that time, he seldom stirred except to go to the University (what +else was there to do?) it followed that whenever he went abroad he felt himself +at once closely involved in the moral consequences of his act. It was there +that the dark prestige of the Haldin mystery fell on him, clung to him like a +poisoned robe it was impossible to fling off. He suffered from it exceedingly, +as well as from the conversational, commonplace, unavoidable intercourse with +the other kind of students. "They must be wondering at the change in me," he +reflected anxiously. He had an uneasy recollection of having savagely told one +or two innocent, nice enough fellows to go to the devil. Once a married +professor he used to call upon formerly addressed him in passing: "How is it we +never see you at our Wednesdays now, Kirylo Sidorovitch?" Razumov was +conscious of meeting this advance with odious, muttering boorishness. The +professor was obviously too astonished to be offended. All this was bad. And +all this was Haldin, always Haldin--nothing but Haldin--everywhere Haldin: a +moral spectre infinitely more effective than any visible apparition of the +dead. It was only the room through which that man had blundered on his way +from crime to death that his spectre did not seem to be able to haunt. Not, to +be exact, that he was ever completely absent from it, but that there he had no +sort of power. There it was Razumov who had the upper hand, in a composed +sense of his own superiority. A vanquished phantom--nothing more. Often in +the evening, his repaired watch faintly ticking on the table by the side of the +lighted lamp, Razumov would look up from his writing and stare at the bed with +an expectant, dispassionate attention. Nothing was to be seen there. He never +really supposed that anything ever could be seen there. After a while he would +shrug his shoulders slightly and bend again over his work. For he had gone to +work and, at first, with some success. His unwillingness to leave that place +where he was safe from Haldin grew so strong that at last he ceased to go out +at all. From early morning till far into the night he wrote, he wrote for +nearly a week; never looking at the time, and only throwing himself on the bed +when he could keep his eyes open no longer. Then, one afternoon, quite +casually, he happened to glance at his watch. He laid down his pen slowly. + +"At this very hour," was his thought, "the fellow stole unseen into this room +while I was out. And there he sat quiet as a mouse--perhaps in this very +chair." Razumov got up and began to pace the floor steadily, glancing at the +watch now and then. " This is the time when I returned and found him standing +against the stove," he observed to himself. When it grew dark he lit his lamp. + Later on he interrupted his tramping once more, only to wave away angrily the +girl who attempted to enter the room with tea and something to eat on a tray. + And presently he noted the watch pointing at the hour of his own going forth +into the falling snow on that terrible errand. + +"Complicity," he muttered faintly, and resumed his pacing, keeping his eye on +the hands as they crept on slowly to the time of his return. + +"And, after all," he thought suddenly, "I might have been the chosen instrument +of Providence. This is a manner of speaking, but there may be truth in every +manner of speaking. What if that absurd saying were true in its essence?" + +He meditated for a while, then sat down, his legs stretched out, with stony +eyes, and with his arms hanging down on each side of the chair like a man +totally abandoned by Providence--desolate. + +He noted the time of Haldin's departure and continued to sit still for another +half-hour; then muttering, "And now to work," drew up to the table, seized the +pen and instantly dropped it under the influence of a profoundly disquieting +reflection: "There's three weeks gone by and no word from Mikulin." + +What did it mean! Was he forgotten? Possibly. Then why not remain +forgotten--creep in somewhere? Hide. But where? How? With whom? In what +hole? And was it to be for ever, or what? + +But a retreat was big with shadowy dangers. The eye of the social revolution +was on him, and Razumov for a moment felt an unnamed and despairing dread, +mingled with an odious sense of humiliation. Was it possible that he no longer +belonged to himself? This was damnable. But why not simply keep on as before? + Study. Advance. Work hard as if nothing had happened (and first of all win +the Silver Medal), acquire distinction, become a great reforming servant of the +greatest of States. Servant, too, of the mightiest homogeneous mass of mankind +with a capability for logical, guided development in a brotherly solidarity of +force and aim such as the world had never dreamt of. . . the Russian nation! + +Calm, resolved, steady in his great purpose, he was stretching his hand towards +the pen when he happened to glance towards the bed. He rushed at it, enraged, +with a mental scream: "it's you, crazy fanatic, who stands in the way!" He +flung the pillow on the floor violently, tore the blankets aside. . . . + Nothing there. And, turning away, he caught for an instant in the air, like a +vivid detail in a dissolving view of two heads, the eyes of General T--- and of +Privy-Councillor Mikulin side by side fixed upon him, quite different in +character, but with the same unflinching and weary and yet purposeful +expression. . . servants of the nation! + +Razumov tottered to the washstand very alarmed about himself, drank some water +and bathed his forehead. "This will pass and leave no trace," he thought +confidently. "I am all right." But as to supposing that he had been forgotten +it was perfect nonsense. He was a marked man on that side. And that was +nothing. It was what that miserable phantom stood for which had to be got out +of the way. . . . "If one only could go and spit it all out at some of +them--and take the consequences." + +He imagined himself accosting the red-nosed student and suddenly shaking his +fist in his face. "From that one, though," he reflected," there's nothing to +be got, because he has no mind of his own. He's living in a red democratic +trance. Ah! you want to smash your way into universal happiness, my boy. I +will give you universal happiness, you silly, hypnotized ghoul, you! And what +about my own happiness, eh? Haven't I got any right to it, just because I can +think for myself?. . ." + +And again, but with a different mental accent, Razumov said to himself, "I am +young. Everything can be lived down." At that moment he was crossing the room +slowly, intending to sit down on the sofa and try to compose his thoughts. But +before he had got so far everything abandoned him--hope, courage, belief in +himself trust in men. His heart had, as it were, suddenly emptied itself. It +was no use struggling on. Rest, work, solitude, and the frankness of +intercourse with his kind were alike forbidden to him. Everything was gone. + His existence was a great cold blank, something like the enormous plain of the +whole of Russia levelled with snow and fading gradually on all sides into +shadows and mists. + +He sat down, with swimming head, closed his eyes, and remained like that, +sitting bolt upright on the sofa and perfectly awake for the rest of the night; +till the girl bustling into the outer room with the samovar thumped with her +fist on the door, calling out," Kirylo Sidorovitch, please! It is time for you +to get up!" + +Then, pale like a corpse obeying the dread summons of judgement, Razumov opened +his eyes and got up. + + +Nobody will be surprised to hear, I suppose, that when the summons came he went +to see Councillor Mikulin. It came that very morning, while, looking white and +shaky, like an invalid just out of bed, he was trying to shave himself. The +envelope was addressed in the little attorney's handwriting. That envelope +contained another, superscribed to Razumov, in Prince K---'s hand, with the +request "Please forward under cover at once" in a corner. The note inside was +an autograph of Councillor Mikulin. The writer stated candidly that nothing +had arisen which needed clearing up, but nevertheless appointed a meeting with +Mr. Razumov at a certain address in town which seemed to be that of an oculist. + +Razumov read it, finished shaving, dressed, looked at the note again, and +muttered gloomily, "Oculist." He pondered over it for a time, lit a match, and +burned the two envelopes and the enclosure carefully. Afterwards he waited, +sitting perfectly idle and not even looking at anything in particular till the +appointed hour drew near--and then went out. + +Whether, looking at the unofficial character of the summons, he might have +refrained from attending to it is hard to say. Probably not. At any rate, he +went; but, what's more, he went with a certain eagerness, which may appear +incredible till it is remembered that Councillor Mikulin was the only person on +earth with whom Razumov could talk, taking the Haldin adventure for granted. + And Haldin, when once taken for granted, was no longer a haunting, +falsehood-breeding spectre. Whatever troubling power he exercised in all the +other places of the earth, Razumov knew very well that at this oculist's +address he would be merely the hanged murderer of M. de P--- and nothing more. + For the dead can live only with the exact intensity and quality of the life +imparted to them by the living. So Mr. Razumov, certain of relief, went to +meet Councillor Mikulin with he eagerness of a pursued person welcoming any +sort of shelter. + +This much said, there is no need to tell anything more of that first interview +and of the several others. To the morality of a Western reader an account of +these meetings would wear perhaps the sinister character of old legendary tales +where the Enemy of Mankind is represented holding subtly mendacious dialogues +with some tempted soul. It is not my part to protest. Let me but remark that +the Evil One, with his single passion of satanic pride for the only motive, is +yet, on a larger, modern view, allowed to be not quite so black as he used to +be painted. With what greater latitude, then, should we appraise the exact +shade of mere mortal man, with his many passions and his miserable ingenuity in +error, always dazzled by the base glitter of mixed motives, everlastingly +betrayed by a short-sighted wisdom. + +Councillor Mikulin was one of those powerful officials who, in a position not +obscure, not occult, but simply inconspicuous, exercise a great influence over +the methods rather than over the conduct of affairs. A devotion to Church and +Throne is not in itself a criminal sentiment; to prefer the will of one to the +will of many does not argue the possession of a black heart or prove congenital +idiocy. Councillor Mikulin was not only a clever but also a faithful official. + Privately he was a bachelor with a love of comfort, living alone in an +apartment of five rooms luxuriously furnished; and was known by his intimates +to be an enlightened patron of the art of female dancing. Later on the larger +world first heard of him in the very hour of his downfall, during one of those +State trials which astonish and puzzle the average plain man who reads the +newspapers, by a glimpse of unsuspected intrigues. And in the stir of vaguely +seen monstrosities, in that momentary, mysterious disturbance of muddy waters, +Councillor Mikulin went under, dignified, with only a calm, emphatic protest of +his innocence--nothing more. No disclosures damaging to a harassed autocracy, +complete fidelity to the secrets of the miserable _arcana imperii_ deposited in +his patriotic breast, a display of bureaucratic stoicism in a Russian +official's ineradicable, almost sublime contempt for truth; stoicism of silence +understood only by the very few of the initiated, and not without a certain +cynical grandeur of self-sacrifice on the part of a sybarite. For the terribly +heavy sentence turned Councillor Mikulin civilly into a corpse, and actually +into something very much like a common convict. + +It seems that the savage autocracy, no more than the divine democracy, does not +limit its diet exclusively to the bodies of its enemies. It devours its +friends and servants as well. The downfall of His Excellency Gregory +Gregorievitch Mikulin (which did not occur till some years later) completes all +that is known of the man. But at the time of M. de P---'s murder (or +execution) Councillor Mikulin, under the modest style of Head of Department at +the General Secretariat, exercised a wide influence as the confidant and +right-hand man of his former schoolfellow and lifelong friend, General T---. + One can imagine them talking over the case of Mr. Razumov, with the full sense +of their unbounded power over all the lives in Russia, with cursory disdain, +like two Olympians glancing at a worm. The relationship with Prince K--- was +enough to save Razumov from some carelessly arbitrary proceeding, and it is +also very probable that after the interview at the Secretariat he would have +been left alone. Councillor Mikulin would not have forgotten him (he forgot no +one who ever fell under his observation), but would have simply dropped him for +ever. Councillor Mikulin was a good-natured man and wished no harm to anyone. + Besides (with his own reforming tendencies) he was favourably impressed by +that young student, the son of Prince K---, and apparently no fool. + +But as fate would have it, while Mr. Razumov was finding that no way of life +was possible to him, Councillor Mikulin's discreet abilities were rewarded by a +very responsible post--nothing less than the direction of the general police +supervision over Europe. And it was then, and then only, when taking in hand +the perfecting of the service which watches the revolutionist activities +abroad, that he thought again of Mr. Razumov. He saw great possibilities of +special usefulness in that uncommon young man on whom he had a hold already, +with his peculiar temperament, his unsettled mind and shaken conscience, a +struggling in the toils of a false position. . . . It was as if the +revolutionists themselves had put into his hand that tool so much finer than +the common base instruments, so perfectly fitted, if only vested with +sufficient credit, to penetrate into places inaccessible to common informers. + Providential! Providential! And Prince K---, taken into the secret, was +ready enough to adopt that mystical view too. "It will be necessary, though, +to make a career for him afterwards," he had stipulated anxiously. "Oh! +absolutely. We shall make that our affair," Mikulin had agreed. Prince K---'s +mysticism was of an artless kind; but Councillor Mikulin was astute enough for +two. + +Things and men have always a certain sense, a certain side by which they must +be got hold of if one wants to obtain a solid grasp and a perfect command. The +power of Councillor Mikulin consisted in the ability to seize upon that sense, +that side in the men he used. It did not matter to him what it was--vanity, +despair, love, hate, greed, intelligent pride or stupid conceit, it was all one +to him as long as the man could be made to serve. The obscure, unrelated young +student Razumov, in the moment of great moral loneliness, was allowed to feel +that he was an object of interest to a small group of people of high position. + Prince K--- was persuaded to intervene personally, and on a certain occasion +gave way to a manly emotion which, all unexpected as it was, quite upset Mr. +Razumov. The sudden embrace of that man, agitated by his loyalty to a throne +and by suppressed paternal affection, was a revelation to Mr. Razumov of +something within his own breast. + +"So that was it!" he exclaimed to himself. A sort of contemptuous tenderness +softened the young man's grim view of his position as he reflected upon that +agitated interview with Prince K---. This simpleminded, worldly ex-Guardsman +and senator whose soft grey official whiskers had brushed against his cheek, +his aristocratic and convinced father, was he a whit less estimable or more +absurd than that famine-stricken, fanatical revolutionist, the red-nosed +student? + +And there was some pressure, too, besides the persuasiveness. Mr. Razumov was +always being made to feel that he had committed himself. There was no getting +away from that feeling, from that soft, unanswerable, "Where to?" of Councillor +Mikulin. But no susceptibilities were ever hurt. It was to be a dangerous +mission to Geneva for obtaining, at a critical moment, absolutely reliable +information from a very inaccessible quarter of the inner revolutionary circle. + There were indications that a very serious plot was being matured. . . . The +repose indispensable to a great country was at stake. . . . A great scheme of +orderly reforms would be endangered. . . . The highest personages in the land +were patriotically uneasy, and so on. In short, Councillor Mikulin knew what +to say. This skill is to be inferred clearly from the mental and psychological +self-confession, self-analysis of Mr. Razumov's written journal--the pitiful +resource of a young man who had near him no trusted intimacy, no natural +affection to turn to. + +How all this preliminary work was concealed from observation need not be +recorded. The expedient of the oculist gives a sufficient instance. + Councillor Mikulin was resourceful, and the task not very difficult. Any +fellow-student, even the red-nosed one, was perfectly welcome to see Mr. +Razumov entering a private house to consult an oculist. Ultimate success +depended solely on the revolutionary self-delusion which credited Razumov with +a mysterious complicity in the Haldin affair. To be compromised in it was +credit enough-and it was their own doing. It was precisely _that_ which +stamped Mr. Razumov as a providential man, wide as poles apart from the usual +type of agent for "European supervision." + +And it was _that_ which the Secretariat set itself the task to foster by a +course of calculated and false indiscretions. + +It came at last to this, that one evening Mr. Razumov was unexpectedly called +upon by one of the "thinking" students whom formerly, before the Haldin affair, +he used to meet at various private gatherings; a big fellow with a quiet, +unassuming manner and a pleasant voice. + +Recognizing his voice raised in the ante-room, "May one come in?" Razumov, +lounging idly on his couch, jumped up. "Suppose he were coming to stab me?" he +thought sardonically, and, assuming a green shade over his left eye, said in a +severe tone, "Come in." + +The other was embarrassed; hoped he was not intruding. + +"You haven't been seen for several days, and I've wondered." He coughed a +little. "Eye better?" + +"Nearly well now." + +" Good. I won't stop a minute; but you see I, that is, we--anyway, I have +undertaken the duty to warn you, Kirylo Sidorovitch, that you are living in +false security maybe." + +Razumov sat still with his head leaning on his hand, which nearly concealed the +unshaded eye. + +"I have that idea, too." + +"That's all right, then. Everything seems quiet now, but those people are +preparing some move of general repression. That's of course. But it isn't +that I came to tell you." He hitched his chair closer, dropped his voice. + "You will be arrested before long--we fear." + +An obscure scribe in the Secretariat had overheard a few words of a certain +conversation, and had caught a glimpse of a certain report. This intelligence +was not to be neglected. + +Razumov laughed a little, and his visitor became very anxious. + +"Ah! Kirylo Sidorovitch, this is no laughing matter. They have left you alone +for a while, but. . . ! Indeed, you had better try to leave the country, +Kirylo Sidorovitch, while there's yet time." + +Razumov jumped up and began to thank him for the advice with mocking +effusiveness, so that the other, colouring up, took himself off with the notion +that this mysterious Razumov was not a person to be warned or advised by +inferior mortals. + +Councillor Mikulin, informed the next day of the incident, expressed his +satisfaction. "H'm. Ha! Exactly what was wanted to. . ." and glanced down +his beard. + +"I conclude," said Razumov," that the moment has come for me to start on my +mission." + +"The psychological Moment," Councillor Mikulin insisted softly--very +gravely--as if awed. + +All the arrangements to give verisimilitude to the appearance of a difficult +escape were made. Councillor Mikulin did not expect to see Mr. Razumov again +before his departure. These meetings were a risk, and there was nothing more +to settle. + +"We have said everything to each other by now, Kirylo Sidorovitch, "said the +high official feelingly, pressing Razumov's hand with that unreserved +heartiness a Russian can convey in his manner. "There is nothing obscure +between us. And I will tell you what! I consider myself fortunate in +having--h'm--your. . . ." + +He glanced down his beard, and, after a moment of thoughtful silence, handed to +Razumov a half-sheet of notepaper--an abbreviated note of matters already +discussed, certain points of inquiry, the line of conduct agreed on, a few +hints as to personalities, and so on. It was the only compromising document in +the case, but, as Councillor Mikulin observed, it could be easily destroyed. + Mr. Razumov had better not see any one now--till on the other side of the +frontier, when, of course, it will be just that. . . . See and hear and. . . ." + +He glanced down his beard; but when Razumov declared his intention to see one +person at least before leaving St. Petersburg, Councillor Mikulin failed to +conceal a sudden uneasiness. The young man's studious, solitary, and austere +existence was well known to him. It was the greatest guarantee of fitness. He +became deprecatory. Had his dear Kirylo Sidorovitch considered whether, in +view of such a momentous enterprise, it wasn't really advisable to sacrifice +every sentiment. . . . + +Razumov interrupted the remonstrance scornfully. It was not a young woman, it +was a young fool he wished to see for a certain purpose. Councillor Mikulin +was relieved, but surprised. + +"Ah! And what for--precisely?" + +"For the sake of improving the aspect of verisimilitude," said Razumov curtly, +in a desire to affirm his independence. "I must be trusted in what I do." + +Councillor Mikulin gave way tactfully, murmuring, "Oh, certainly, certainly. + Your judgment. . ." + +And with another handshake they parted. + +The fool of whom Mr. Razumov had thought was the rich and festive student known +as madcap Kostia. Feather-headed, loquacious, excitable, one could make +certain of his utter and complete indiscretion. But that riotous youth, when +reminded by Razumov of his offers of service some time ago, passed from his +usual elation into boundless dismay. + +"Oh, Kirylo Sidorovitch, my dearest friend--my saviour--what shall I do? I've +blown last night every rouble I had from my dad the other day. Can't you give +me till Thursday? I shall rush round to all the usurers I know. . . . No, of +course, you can't! Don't look at me like that. What shall I do? No use +asking the old man. I tell you he's given me a fistful of big notes three days +ago. Miserable wretch that I am." + +He wrung his hands in despair. Impossible to confide in the old man. "They" +had given him a decoration, a cross on the neck only last year, and he had been +cursing the modern tendencies ever since. Just then he would see all the +intellectuals in Russia hanged in a row rather than part with a single rouble. + +"Kirylo Sidorovitch, wait a moment. Don't despise me. I have it. I'll, +yes--I'll do it--I'll break into his desk. There's no help for it. I know the +drawer where he keeps his plunder, and I can buy a chisel on my way home. He +will be terribly upset, but, you know, the dear old duffer really loves me. + He'll have to get over it--and I, too. Kirylo, my dear soul, if you can only +wait for a few hours-till this evening--I shall steal all the blessed lot I can +lay my hands on! You doubt me! Why? You've only to say the word." + +"Steal, by all means," said Razumov, fixing him stonily. + +"To the devil with the ten commandments!" cried the other, with the greatest +animation. "It's the new future now." + +But when he entered Razumov's room late in the evening it was with an +unaccustomed soberness of manner, almost solemnly. + +"It's done," he said. + +Razumov sitting bowed, his clasped hands hanging between his knees, shuddered +at the familiar sound of these words. Kostia deposited slowly in the circle of +lamplight a small brown-paper parcel tied with a piece of string. + +"As I've said--all I could lay my hands on. The old boy'll think the end of +the world has come." Razumov nodded from the couch, and contemplated the +hare-brained fellow's gravity with a feeling of malicious pleasure. + +"I've made my little sacrifice," sighed mad Kostia. "And I've to thank you, +Kirylo Sidorovitch, for the opportunity." + +"It has cost you something?" + +"Yes, it has. You see, the dear old duffer really loves me. He'll be hurt." + +"And you believe all they tell you of the new future and the sacred will of the +people?" + +"Implicitly. I would give my life. . . . Only, you see, I am like a pig at a +trough. I am no good. It's my nature." + +Razumov, lost in thought, had forgotten his existence till the youth's voice, +entreating him to fly without loss of time, roused him unpleasantly. + +"All right. Well--good-bye." + +"I am not going to leave you till I've seen you out of St. Petersburg," +declared Kostia unexpectedly, with calm determination. "You can't refuse me +that now. For God's sake, Kirylo, my soul, the police may be here any moment, +and when they get you they'll immure you somewhere for ages--till your hair +turns grey. I have down there the best trotter of dad's stables and a light +sledge. We shall do thirty miles before the moon sets, and find some roadside +station. . . ." + +Razumov looked up amazed. The journey was decided--unavoidable. He had fixed +the next day for his departure on the mission. And now he discovered suddenly +that he had not believed in it. He had gone about listening, speaking, +thinking, planning his simulated flight, with the growing conviction that all +this was preposterous. As if anybody ever did such things! It was like a game +of make-believe. And now he was amazed! Here was somebody who believed in it +with desperate earnestness. "If I don't go now, at once," thought Razumov, +with a start of fear, "I shall never go." He rose without a word, and the +anxious Kostia thrust his cap on him, helped him into his cloak, or else he +would have left the room bareheaded as he stood. He was walking out silently +when a sharp cry arrested him. + +"Kirylo!" + +"What?" He turned reluctantly in the doorway. Upright, with a stiffly extended +arm, Kostia, his face set and white, was pointing an eloquent forefinger at the +brown little packet lying forgotten in the circle of bright light on the table. + Razumov hesitated, came back for it under the severe eyes of his companion, at +whom he tried to smile. But the boyish, mad youth was frowning. "It's a +dream," thought Razumov, putting the little parcel into his pocket and +descending the stairs; "nobody does such things." The other held him under the +arm, whispering of dangers ahead, and of what he meant to do in certain +contingencies. "Preposterous," murmured Razumov, as he was being tucked up in +the sledge. He gave himself up to watching the development of the dream with +extreme attention. It continued on foreseen lines, inexorably logical--the +long drive, the wait at the small station sitting by a stove. They did not +exchange half a dozen words altogether. Kostia, gloomy himself, did not care +to break the silence. At parting they embraced twice--it had to be done; and +then Kostia vanished out of the dream. + +When dawn broke, Razumov, very still in a hot, stuffy railway-car full of +bedding and of sleeping people in all its dimly lighted length, rose quietly, +lowered the glass a few inches, and flung out on the great plain of snow a +small brown-paper parcel. Then he sat down again muffled up and motionless. + "For the people," he thought, staring out of the window. The great white +desert of frozen, hard earth glided past his eyes without a sign of human +habitation. + +That had been a waking act; and then the dream had him again: Prussia, Saxony, +Wurtemberg, faces, sights, words--all a dream, observed with an angry, +compelled attention. Zurich, Geneva--still a dream, minutely followed, wearing +one into harsh laughter, to fury, to death--with the fear of awakening at the +end. + + +II + + +"Perhaps life is just that," reflected Razumov, pacing to and fro under the +trees of the little island, all alone with the bronze statue of Rousseau. "A +dream and a fear." The dusk deepened. The pages written over and torn out of +his notebook were the first-fruit of his "mission." No dream that. They +contained the assurance that he was on the eve of real discoveries. "I think +there is no longer anything in the way of my being completely accepted." + +He had resumed his impressions in those pages, some of the conversations. He +even went so far as to write: "By the by, I have discovered the personality of +that terrible N.N. A horrible, paunchy brute. If I hear anything of his +future movements I shall send a warning." + +The futility of all this overcame him like a curse. Even then he could not +believe in the reality of his mission. He looked round despairingly, as if for +some way to redeem his existence from that unconquerable feeling. He crushed +angrily in his hand the pages of the notebook. "This must be posted," he +thought. + +He gained the bridge and returned to the north shore, where he remembered +having seen in one of the narrower streets a little obscure shop stocked with +cheap wood carvings, its walls lined with extremely dirty cardboard-bound +volumes of a small circulating library. They sold stationery there, too. A +morose, shabby old man dozed behind the counter. A thin woman in black, with a +sickly face, produced the envelope he had asked for without even looking at +him. Razumov thought that these people were safe to deal with because they no +longer cared for anything in the world. He addressed the envelope on the +counter with the German name of a certain person living in Vienna. But Razumov +knew that this, his first communication for Councillor Mikulin, would find its +way to the Embassy there, be copied in cypher by somebody trustworthy, and sent +on to its destination, all safe, along with the diplomatic correspondence. + That was the arrangement contrived to cover up the track of the information +from all unfaithful eyes, from all indiscretions, from all mishaps and +treacheries. It was to make him safe--absolutely safe. + +He wandered out of the wretched shop and made for the post office. It was then +that I saw him for the second time that day. He was crossing the Rue Mont +Blanc with every appearance of an aimless stroller. He did not recognize me, +but I made him out at some distance. He was very good-looking, I thought, this +remarkable friend of Miss Haldin's brother. I watched him go up to the +letter-box and then retrace his steps. Again he passed me very close, but I am +certain he did not see me that time, either. He carried his head well up, but +he had the expression of a somnambulist struggling with the very dream which +drives him forth to wander in dangerous places. My thoughts reverted to +Natalia Haldin, to her mother. He was all that was left to them of their son +and brother. + +The westerner in me was discomposed. There was something shocking in the +expression of that face. Had I been myself a conspirator, a Russian political +refugee, I could have perhaps been able to draw some practical conclusion from +this chance glimpse. As it was, it only discomposed me strongly, even to the +extent of awakening an indefinite apprehension in regard to Natalia Haldin. + All this is rather inexplicable, but such was the origin of the purpose I +formed there and then to call on these ladies in the evening, after my solitary +dinner. It was true that I had met Miss Haldin only a few hours before, but +Mrs. Haldin herself I had not seen for some considerable time. The truth is, I +had shirked calling of late. + +Poor Mrs. Haldin! I confess she frightened me a little. She was one of those +natures, rare enough, luckily, in which one cannot help being interested, +because they provoke both terror and pity. One dreads their contact for +oneself, and still more for those one cares for, so clear it is that they are +born to suffer and to make others suffer, too. It is strange to think that, I +won't say liberty, but the mere liberalism of outlook which for us is a matter +of words, of ambitions, of votes (and if of feeling at all, then of the sort of +feeling which leaves our deepest affections untouched), may be for other beings +very much like ourselves and living under the same sky, a heavy trial of +fortitude, a matter of tears and anguish and blood. Mrs. Haldin had felt the +pangs of her own generation. There was that enthusiast brother of hers--the +officer they shot under Nicholas. A faintly ironic resignation is no armour +for a vulnerable heart. Mrs. Haldin, struck at through her children, was bound +to suffer afresh from the past, and to feel the anguish of the future. She was +of those who do not know how to heal themselves, of those who are too much +aware of their heart, who, neither cowardly nor selfish, look passionately at +its wounds--and count the cost. + +Such thoughts as these seasoned my modest, lonely bachelor's meal. If anybody +wishes to remark that this was a roundabout way of thinking of Natalia Haldin, +I can only retort that she was well worth some concern. She had all her life +before her. Let it be admitted, then, that I was thinking of Natalia Haldin's +life in terms of her mother's character, a manner of thinking about a girl +permissible for an old man, not too old yet to have become a stranger to pity. + There was almost all her youth before her; a youth robbed arbitrarily of its +natural lightness and joy, overshadowed by an un-European despotism; a terribly +sombre youth given over to the hazards of a furious strife between equally +ferocious antagonisms. + +I lingered over my thoughts more than I should have done. One felt so +helpless, and even worse--so unrelated, in a way. At the last moment I +hesitated as to going there at all. What was the good? + +The evening was already advanced when, turning into the Boulevard des +Philosophes, I saw the light in the window at the corner. The blind was down, +but I could imagine behind it Mrs. Haldin seated in the chair, in her usual +attitude, looking out for some one, which had lately acquired the poignant +quality of mad expectation. + +I thought that I was sufficiently authorized by the light to knock at the door. + The ladies had not retired as yet. I only hoped they would not have any +visitors of their own nationality. A broken-down, retired Russian official was +to be found there sometimes in the evening. He was infinitely forlorn and +wearisome by his mere dismal presence. I think these ladies tolerated his +frequent visits because of an ancient friendship with Mr. Haldin, the father, +or something of that sort. I made up my mind that if I found him prosing away +there in his feeble voice I should remain but a very few minutes. + +The door surprised me by swinging open before I could ring the bell. I was +confronted by Miss Haldin, in hat and jacket, obviously on the point of going +out. At that hour! For the doctor, perhaps? + +Her exclamation of welcome reassured me. It sounded as if I had been the very +man she wanted to see. My curiosity was awakened. She drew me in, and the +faithful Anna, the elderly German maid, closed the door, but did not go away +afterwards. She remained near it as if in readiness to let me out presently. + It appeared that Miss Haldin had been on the point of going out to find me. + +She spoke in a hurried manner very unusual with her. She would have gone +straight and rung at Mrs. Ziegler's door, late as it was, for Mrs. Ziegler's +habits. . . . + +Mrs. Ziegler, the widow of a distinguished professor who was an intimate friend +of mine, lets me have three rooms out of her very large and fine apartment, +which she didn't give up after her husband's death; but I have my own entrance +opening on the same landing. It was an arrangement of at least ten years' +standing. I said that I was very glad that I had the idea to. . . . + +Miss Haldin made no motion to take off her outdoor things. I observed her +heightened colour, something pronouncedly resolute in her tone. Did I know +where Mr. Razumov lived? + +Where Mr. Razumov lived? Mr. Razumov? At this hour--so urgently? I threw my +arms up in sign of utter ignorance. I had not the slightest idea where he +lived. If I could have foreseen her question only three hours ago, I might +have ventured to ask him on the pavement before the new post office building, +and possibly he would have told me, but very possibly, too, he would have +dismissed me rudely to mind my own business. And possibly, I thought, +remembering that extraordinary hallucined, anguished, and absent expression, he +might have fallen down in a fit from the shock of being spoken to. I said +nothing of all this to Miss Haldin, not even mentioning that I had a glimpse of +the young man so recently. The impression had been so extremely unpleasant +that I would have been glad to forget it myself. + +"I don't see where I could make inquiries," I murmured helplessly. I would +have been glad to be of use in any way, and would have set off to fetch any +man, young or old, for I had the greatest confidence in her common sense. + "What made you think of coming to me for that information?" I asked. + +"It wasn't exactly for that," she said, in a low voice. She had the air of +some one confronted by an unpleasant task. + +"Am I to understand that you must communicate with Mr. Razumov this evening?" + +Natalia Haldin moved her head affirmatively; then, after a glance at the door +of the drawing-room, said in French-- + +"_C'est maman_," and remained perplexed for a moment. Always serious, not a +girl to be put out by any imaginary difficulties, my curiosity was suspended on +her lips, which remained closed for a moment. What was Mr. Razumov's connexion +with this mention of her mother? Mrs. Haldin had not been informed of her +son's friend's arrival in Geneva. + +"May I hope to see your mother this evening?" I inquired. + +Miss Haldin extended her hand as if to bar the way. + +"She is in a terrible state of agitation. Oh, you would not he able to detect. +. . . It's inward, but I who know mother, I am appalled. I haven't the +courage to face it any longer. It's all my fault; I suppose I cannot play a +part; I've never before hidden anything from mother. There has never been an +occasion for anything of that sort between us. But you know yourself the +reason why I refrained from telling her at once of Mr. Razumov's arrival here. + You understand, don't you? Owing to her unhappy state. And--there--I am no +actress. My own feelings being strongly engaged, I somehow . . . . I don't +know. She noticed something in my manner. She thought I was concealing +something from her. She noticed my longer absences, and, in fact, as I have +been meeting Mr. Razumov daily, I used to stay away longer than usual when I +went out. Goodness knows what suspicions arose in her mind. You know that she +has not been herself ever since. . . . So this evening she--who has been so +awfully silent: for weeks-began to talk all at once. She said that she did not +want to reproach me; that I had my character as she had her own; that she did +not want to pry into my affairs or even into my thoughts; for her part, she had +never had anything to conceal from her children. . . cruel things to listen to. + And all this in her quiet voice, with that poor, wasted face as calm as a +stone. It was unbearable." + +Miss Haldin talked in an undertone and more rapidly than I had ever heard her +speak before. That in itself was disturbing. The ante-room being strongly +lighted, I could see under the veil the heightened colour of her face. She +stood erect, her left hand was resting lightly on a small table. The other +hung by her side without stirring. Now and then she caught her breath slightly. + +"It was too startling. Just fancy! She thought that I was making preparations +to leave her without saying anything. I knelt by the side of her chair and +entreated her to think of what she was saying! She put her hand on my head, +but she persists in her delusion all the same. She had always thought that she +was worthy of her children's confidence, but apparently it was not so. Her son +could not trust her love nor yet her understanding--and now I was planning to +abandon her in the same cruel and unjust manner, and so on, and so on. Nothing +I could say. . . . It is morbid obstinacy. . . . She said that she felt there +was something, some change in me. . . . If my convictions were calling me +away, why this secrecy, as though she had been a coward or a weakling not safe +to trust? 'As if my heart could play traitor to my children,' she said. . . . + It was hardly to be borne. And she was smoothing my head all the time. . . . + It was perfectly useless to protest. She is ill. Her very soul is. . . ." + +I did not venture to break the silence which fell between us. I looked into +her eyes, glistening through the veil. + +"I! Changed!" she exclaimed in the same low tone. "My convictions calling me +away! It was cruel to hear this, because my trouble is that I am weak and +cannot see what I ought to do. You know that. And to end it all I did a +selfish thing. To remove her suspicions of myself I told her of Mr. Razumov. + It was selfish of me. You know we were completely right in agreeing to keep +the knowledge away from her. Perfectly right. Directly I told her of our poor +Victor's friend being here I saw how right we have been. She ought to have +been prepared; but in my distress I just blurted it out. Mother got terribly +excited at once. How long has he been here? What did he know, and why did he +not come to see us at once, this friend of her Victor? What did that mean? + Was she not to be trusted even with such memories as there were left of her +son?. . . Just think how I felt seeing her, white like a sheet, perfectly +motionless, with her thin hands gripping the arms of the chair. I told her it +was all my fault." + +I could imagine the motionless dumb figure of the mother in her chair, there, +behind the door, near which the daughter was talking to me. The silence in +there seemed to call aloud for vengeance against an historical fact and the +modern instances of its working. That view flashed through my mind, but I +could not doubt that Miss Haldin had had an atrocious time of it. I quite +understood when she said that she could not face the night upon the impression +of that scene. Mrs. Haldin had given way to most awful imaginings, to most +fantastic and cruel suspicions. All this had to be lulled at all costs and +without loss of time. It was no shock to me to ]earn that Miss Haldin had said +to her, "I will go and bring him here at once." There was nothing absurd in +that cry, no exaggeration of sentiment. I was not even doubtful in my "Very +well, but how?" + +It was perfectly right that she should think of me, but what could I do in my +ignorance of Mr. Razumov's quarters. + +"And to think he may be living near by, within a stone's-throw, perhaps!" she +exclaimed. + +I doubted it; but I would have gone off cheerfully to fetch him from the other +end of Geneva. I suppose she was certain of my readiness, since her first +thought was to come to me. But the service she meant to ask of me really was +to accompany her to the Chateau Borel. + +I had an unpleasant mental vision of the dark road, of the sombre grounds, and +the desolately suspicious aspect of that home of necromancy and intrigue and +feminist adoration. I objected that Madame de S--- most likely would know +nothing of what we wanted to find out. Neither did I think it likely that the +young man would be found there. I remembered my glimpse of his face, and +somehow gained the conviction that a man who looked worse than if he had seen +the dead would want to shut himself up somewhere where he could be alone. I +felt a strange certitude that Mr. Razumov was going home when I saw him. + +"It is really of Peter Ivanovitch that I was thinking," said Miss Haldin +quietly. + +Ah! He, of course, would know. I looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes +past nine only. . . . Still. + +"I would try his hotel, then," I advised. "He has rooms at the Cosmopolitan, +somewhere on the top floor." + +I did not offer to go by myself, simply from mistrust of the reception I should +meet with. But I suggested the faithful Anna, with a note asking for the +information. + +Anna was still waiting by the door at the other end of the room, and we two +discussed the matter in whispers. Miss Haldin thought she must go herself. + Anna was timid and slow. Time would be lost in bringing back the answer, and +from that point of view it was getting late, for it was by no means certain +that Mr. Razumov lived near by. + +"If I go myself," Miss Haldin argued, "I can go straight to him from the hotel. + And in any case I should have to go out, because I must explain to Mr. Razumov +personally--prepare him in a way. You have no idea of mother's state of mind." + +Her colour came and went. She even thought that both for her mother's sake and +for her own it was better that they should not be together for a little time. + Anna, whom her mother liked, would be at hand. + +"She could take her sewing into the room," Miss Haldin continued, leading the +way to the door. Then, addressing in German the maid who opened it before us, +"You may tell my mother that this gentleman called and is gone with me to find +Mr. Razumov. She must not be uneasy if I am away for some length of time." + +We passed out quickly into the street, and she took deep breaths of the cool +night air. "I did not even ask you," she murmured. + +"I should think not," I said, with a laugh. The manner of my reception by the +great feminist could not be considered now. That he would be annoyed to see +me, and probably treat me to some solemn insolence, I had no doubt, but I +supposed that he would not absolutely dare to throw me out. And that was all I +cared for. "Won't you take my arm?" I asked. + +She did so in silence, and neither of us said anything worth recording till I +let her go first into the great hall of the hotel. It was brilliantly lighted, +and with a good many people lounging about. + +"I could very well go up there without you," I suggested. + +"I don't like to be left waiting in this place," she said in a low voice. + +"I will come too." + +I led her straight to the lift then. At the top floor the attendant directed +us to the right: "End of the corridor." + +The walls were white, the carpet red, electric lights blazed in profusion, and +the emptiness, the silence, the closed doors all alike and numbered, made me +think of the perfect order of some severely luxurious model penitentiary on the +solitary confinement principle. Up there under the roof of that enormous pile +for housing travellers no sound of any kind reached us, the thick crimson felt +muffled our footsteps completely. We hastened on, not looking at each other +till we found ourselves before the very last door of that long passage. Then +our eyes met, and we stood thus for a moment lending ear to a faint murmur of +voices inside. + +"I suppose this is it," I whispered unnecessarily. I saw Miss Haldin's lips +move without a sound, and after my sharp knock the murmur of voices inside +ceased. A profound stillness lasted for a few seconds, and then the door was +brusquely opened by a short, black-eyed woman in a red blouse, with a great lot +of nearly white hair, done up negligently in an untidy and unpicturesque +manner. Her thin, jetty eyebrows were drawn together. I learned afterwards +with interest that she was the famous--or the notorious--Sophia Antonovna, but +I was struck then by the quaint Mephistophelian character of her inquiring +glance, because it was so curiously evil-less, so--I may say--un-devilish. It +got softened still more as she looked up at Miss Haldin, who stated, in her +rich, even voice, her wish to see Peter Ivanovitch for a moment. + +"I am Miss Haldin," she added. + +At this, with her brow completely smoothed out now, but without a word in +answer, the woman in the red blouse walked away to a sofa and sat down, leaving +the door wide open. + +And from the sofa, her hands lying on her lap, she watched us enter, with her +black, glittering eyes. + +Miss Haldin advanced into the middle of the room; I, faithful to my part of +mere attendant, remained by the door after closing it behind me. The room, +quite a large one, but with a low ceiling, was scantily furnished, and an +electric bulb with a porcelain shade pulled low down over a big table (with a +very large map spread on it) left its distant parts in a dim, artificial +twilight. Peter Ivanovitch was not to be seen, neither was Mr. Razumov +present. But, on the sofa, near Sophia Antonovna, a bony-faced man with a +goatee beard leaned forward with his hands on his knees, staring hard with a +kindly expression. In a remote corner a broad, pale face and a bulky shape +could be made out, uncouth, and as if insecure on the low seat on which it +rested. The only person known to me was little Julius Laspara, who seemed to +have been poring over the map, his feet twined tightly round the chair-legs. + He got down briskly and bowed to Miss Haldin, looking absurdly like a +hooknosed boy with a beautiful false pepper-and-salt beard. He advanced, +offering his seat, which Miss Haldin declined. She had only come in for a +moment to say a few words to Peter Ivanovitch. + +His high-pitched voice became painfully audible in the room. + +"Strangely enough, I was thinking of you this very afternoon, Natalia +Victorovna. I met Mr. Razumov. I asked him to write me an article on anything +he liked. You could translate it into English--with such a teacher." + +He nodded complimentarily in my direction. At the name of Razumov an +indescribable sound, a sort of feeble squeak, as of some angry small animal, +was heard in the corner occupied by the man who seemed much too large for the +chair on which he sat. I did not hear what Miss Haldin said. Laspara spoke +again. + +"It's time to do something, Natalia Victorovna. But I suppose you have your +own ideas. Why not write something yourself? Suppose you came to see us soon? + We could talk it over. Any advice. . . . + +Again I did not catch Miss Haldin's words. It was Laspara's voice once more. + +"Peter Ivanovitch? He's retired for a moment into the other room. We are all +waiting for him." The great man, entering at that moment, looked bigger, +taller, quite imposing in a long dressing-gown of some dark stuff. It +descended in straight lines down to his feet. He suggested a monk or a +prophet, a robust figure of same desert-dweller--something Asiatic; and the +dark glasses in conjunction with this costume made him more mysterious than +ever in the subdued light. + +Little Laspara went back to his chair to look at the map, the only brilliantly +lit object in the room. Even from my distant position by the door I could make +out, by the shape of the blue part representing the water, that it was a map of +the Baltic provinces. Peter Ivanovitch exclaimed slightly, advancing towards +Miss Haldin, checked himself on perceiving me, very vaguely no doubt; and +peered with his dark, bespectacled stare. He must have recognized me by my +grey hair, because, with a marked shrug of his broad shoulders, he turned to +Miss Haldin in benevolent indulgence. He seized her hand in his thick +cushioned palm, and put his other big paw over it like a lid. + +While those two standing in the middle of the floor were exchanging a few +inaudible phrases no one else moved in the room: Laspara, with his back to us, +kneeling on the chair, his elbows propped on the big-scale map, the shadowy +enormity in the corner, the frankly staring man with the goatee on the sofa, +the woman in the red blouse by his side--not one of them stirred. I suppose +that really they had no time, for Miss Haldin withdrew her hand immediately +from Peter Ivanovitch and before I was ready for her was moving to the door. A +disregarded Westerner, I threw it open hurriedly and followed her out, my last +glance leaving them all motionless in their varied poses: Peter Ivanovitch +alone standing up, with his dark glasses like an enormous blind teacher, and +behind him the vivid patch of light on the coloured map, pored over by the +diminutive Laspara. + +Later on, much later on, at the time of the newspaper rumours (they were vague +and soon died out) of an abortive military conspiracy in Russia, I remembered +the glimpse I had of that motionless group with its central figure. No details +ever came out, but it was known that the revolutionary parties abroad had given +their assistance, had sent emissaries in advance, that even money was found to +dispatch a steamer with a cargo of arms and conspirators to invade the Baltic +provinces. And while my eyes scanned the imperfect disclosures (in which the +world was not much interested) I thought that the old, settled Europe had been +given in my person attending that Russian girl something like a glimpse behind +the scenes. A short, strange glimpse on the top floor of a great hotel of all +places in the world: the great man himself; the motionless great bulk in the +corner of the slayer of spies and gendarmes; Yakovlitch, the veteran of ancient +terrorist campaigns; the woman, with her hair as white as mine and the lively +black eyes, all in a mysterious half-light, with the strongly lighted map of +Russia on the table. The woman I had the opportunity to see again. As we were +waiting for the lift she came hurrying along the corridor, with her eyes +fastened on Miss Haldin's face, and drew her aside as if for a confidential +communication. It was not long. A few words only. + +Going down in the lift, Natalia Haldin did not break the silence. It was only +when out of the hotel and as we moved along the quay in the fresh darkness +spangled by the quay lights, reflected in the black water of the little port on +our left hand, and with lofty piles of hotels on our right, that she spoke. + +"That was Sophia Antonovna--you know the woman?. . . ." + +"Yes, I know--the famous. . . ." + +"The same. It appears that after we went out Peter Ivanovitch told them why I +had come. That was the reason she ran out after us. She named herself to me, +and then she said, 'You are the sister of a brave man who shall be remembered. + You may see better times.' I told her I hoped to see the time when all this +would be forgotten, even if the name of my brother were to be forgotten too. + Something moved me to say that, but you understand?" + +"Yes," I said. "You think of the era of concord and justice." + +"Yes. There is too much hate and revenge in that work. It must be done. It +is a sacrifice--and so let it be all the greater. Destruction is the work of +anger. Let the tyrants and the slayers be forgotten together, and only the +reconstructors be remembered.'' + +"And did Sophia Antonovna agree with you?" I asked sceptically. + +"She did not say anything except, 'It is good for you to believe in love.' I +should think she understood me. Then she asked me if I hoped to see Mr. +Razumov presently. I said I trusted I could manage to bring him to see my +mother this evening, as my mother had learned of his being here and was +morbidly impatient to learn if he could tell us something of Victor. He was +the only friend of my brother we knew of, and a great intimate. She said, 'Oh! + Your brother--yes. Please tell Mr. Razumov that I have made public the story +which came to me from St. Petersburg. It concerns your brother's arrest,' she +added. 'He was betrayed by a man of the people who has since hanged himself. + Mr. Razumov will explain it all to you. I gave him the full information this +afternoon. And please tell Mr. Razumov that Sophia Antonovna sends him her +greetings. I am going away early in the morning--far away.'" + +And Miss Haldin added, after a moment of silence-" I was so moved by what I +heard so unexpectedly that I simply could not speak to you before. . . . A man +of the people! Oh, our poor people!" + +She walked slowly, as if tired out suddenly. Her head drooped; from the +windows of a building with terraces and balconies came the banal sound of hotel +music; before the low mean portals of the Casino two red posters blazed under +the electric lamps, with a cheap provincial effect.--and the emptiness of the +quays, the desert aspect of the streets, had an air of hypocritical +respectability and of inexpressible dreariness. + +I had taken for granted she had obtained the address, and let myself be guided +by her. On the Mont Blanc bridge, where a few dark figures seemed lost in the +wide and long perspective defined by the lights, she said-- + +"It isn't very far from our house. I somehow thought it couldn't be. The +address is Rue de Carouge. I think it must be one of those big new houses for +artisans." + +She took my arm confidingly, familiarly, and accelerated her pace. There was +something primitive in our proceedings. We did not think of the resources of +civilization. A late tramcar overtook us; a row of _fiacres_ stood by the +railing of the gardens. It never entered our heads to make use of these +conveyances. She was too hurried, perhaps, and as to myself--well, she had +taken my arm confidingly. As we were ascending the easy incline of the +Corraterie, all the shops shuttered and no light in any of the windows (as if +all the mercenary population had fled at the end of the day), she said +tentatively-- + +"I could run in for a moment to have a look at mother. It would not be much +out of the way." + +I dissuaded her. If Mrs. Haldin really expected to see Razumov that night it +would have been unwise to show herself without him. The sooner we got hold of +the young man and brought him along to calm her mother's agitation the better. + She assented to my reasoning, and we crossed diagonally the Place de Theatre, +bluish grey with its floor of slabs of stone, under the electric light, and the +lonely equestrian statue all black in the middle. In the Rue de Carouge we +were in the poorer quarters and approaching the outskirts of the town. Vacant +building plots alternated with high, new houses. At the corner of a side +street the crude light of a whitewashed shop fell into the night, fan-like, +through a wide doorway. One could see from a distance the inner wall with its +scantily furnished shelves, and the deal counter painted brown. That was the +house. Approaching it along the dark stretch of a fence of tarred planks, we +saw the narrow pallid face of the cut angle, five single windows high, without +a gleam in them, and crowned by the heavy shadow of a jutting roof slope. + +"We must inquire in the shop," Miss Haldin directed me. + +A sallow, thinly whiskered man, wearing a dingy white collar and a frayed tie, +laid down a newspaper, and, leaning familiarly on both elbows far over the bare +counter, answered that the person I was inquiring for was indeed his +_locataire_ on the third floor, but that for the moment he was out. + +"For the moment," I repeated, after a glance at Miss Haldin. "Does this mean +that you expect him back at once?" + +He was very gentle, with ingratiating eyes and soft lips. He smiled faintly as +though he knew all about everything. Mr. Razumov, after being absent all day, +had returned early in the evening. He was very surprised about half an hour or +a little more since to see him come down again. Mr. Razumov left his key, and +in the course of some words which passed between them had remarked that he was +going out because he needed air. + +>From behind the bare counter he went on smiling at us, his head held between +his hands. Air. Air. But whether that meant a long or a short absence it was +difficult to say. The night was very close, certainly. + +After a pause, his ingratiating eyes turned to the door, he added-- + +"The storm shall drive him in." + +"There's going to be a storm?" I asked. + +"Why, yes!" + +As if to confirm his words we heard a very distant, deep rumbling noise. + +Consulting Miss Haldin by a glance, I saw her so reluctant to give up her quest +that I asked the shopkeeper, in case Mr. Razumov came home within half an hour, +to beg him to remain downstairs in the shop. We would look in again presently. + +For all answer he moved his head imperceptibly. The approval of Miss Haldin +was expressed by her silence. We walked slowly down the street, away from the +town; the low garden walls of the modest villas doomed to demolition were +overhung by the boughs of trees and masses of foliage, lighted from below by +gas lamps. The violent and monotonous noise of the icy waters of the Arve +falling over a low dam swept towards us with a chilly draught of air across a +great open space, where a double line of lamp-lights outlined a street as yet +without houses. But on the other shore, overhung by the awful blackness of the +thunder-cloud, a solitary dim light seemed to watch us with a weary stare. + When we had strolled as far as the bridge, I said-- + +"We had better get back. . . ." + + +In the shop the sickly man was studying his smudgy newspaper, now spread out +largely on the counter. He just raised his head when I looked in and shook it +negatively, pursing up his lips. I rejoined Miss Haldin outside at once, and +we moved off at a brisk pace. She remarked that she would send Anna with a +note the first thing in the morning. I respected her taciturnity, silence +being perhaps the best way to show my concern. + +The semi-rural street we followed on our return changed gradually to the usual +town thoroughfare, broad and deserted. We did not meet four people altogether, +and the way seemed interminable, because my companion's natural anxiety had +communicated itself sympathetically to me. At last we turned into the +Boulevard des Philosophes, more wide, more empty, more dead--the very +desolation of slumbering respectability. At the sight of the two lighted +windows, very conspicuous from afar, I had the mental vision of Mrs. Haldin in +her armchair keeping a dreadful, tormenting vigil under the evil spell of an +arbitrary rule: a victim of tyranny and revolution, a sight at once cruel and +absurd. + + +III + + + +"You will come in for a moment?" said Natalia Haldin. + +I demurred on account of the late hour. "You know mother likes you so much," +she insisted. + +"I will just come in to hear how your mother is." + +She said, as if to herself, "I don't even know whether she will believe that I +could not find Mr. Razumov, since she has taken it into her head that I am +concealing something from her. You may be able to persuade her. . . ." + +"Your mother may mistrust me too," I observed. + +"You! Why? What could you have to conceal from her? You are not a Russian +nor a conspirator." + +I felt profoundly my European remoteness, and said nothing, but I made up my +mind to play my part of helpless spectator to the end. The distant rolling of +thunder in the valley of the Rhone was coming nearer to the sleeping town of +prosaic virtues and universal hospitality. We crossed the street opposite the +great dark gateway, and Miss Haldin rang at the door of the apartment. It was +opened almost instantly, as if the elderly maid had been waiting in the +ante-room for our return. Her flat physiognomy had an air of satisfaction. + The gentleman was there, she declared, while closing the door. + +Neither of us understood. Miss Haldin turned round brusquely to her. "Who?" + +"Herr Razumov," she explained. + +She had heard enough of our conversation before we left to know why her young +mistress was going out. Therefore, when the gentleman gave his name at the +door, she admitted him at once. + +"No one could have foreseen that," Miss Haldin murmured, with her serious grey +eyes fixed upon mine. And, remembering the expression of the young man's face +seen not much more than four hours ago, the look of a haunted somnambulist, I +wondered with a sort of awe. + +"You asked my mother first?" Miss Haldin inquired of the maid. + +"No. I announced the gentleman," she answered, surprised at our troubled faces. + +"Still," I said in an undertone, "your mother was prepared." + +"Yes. But he has no idea. . . ." + +It seemed to me she doubted his tact. To her question how long the gentleman +had been with her mother, the maid told us that Der Herr had been in the +drawing-room no more than a short quarter of an hour. + +She waited a moment, then withdrew, looking a little scared. Miss Haldin gazed +at me in silence. + +"As things have turned out," I said, "you happen to know exactly what your +brother's friend has to tell your mother. And surely after that. . . ." + +"Yes," said Natalia Haldin slowly. " I only wonder, as I was not here when he +came, if it wouldn't be better not to interrupt now." + +We remained silent, and I suppose we both strained our ears, but no sound +reached us through the closed door. The features of Miss Haldin expressed a +painful irresolution; she made a movement as if to go in, but checked herself. + She had heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It came open, and +Razumov, without pausing, stepped out into the ante-room. The fatigue of that +day and the struggle with himself had changed him so much that I would have +hesitated to recognize that face which, only a few hours before, when he +brushed against me in front of the post office, had been startling enough but +quite different. It had been not so livid then, and its eyes not so sombre. + They certainly looked more sane now, but there was upon them the shadow of +something consciously evil. + +I speak of that, because, at first, their glance fell on me, though without any +sort of recognition or even comprehension. I was simply in the line of his +stare. I don't know if he had heard the bell or expected to see anybody. He +was going out, I believe, and I do not think that he saw Miss Haldin till she +advanced towards him a step or two. He disregarded the hand she put out. + +"It's you, Natalia Victorovna. . . . Perhaps you are surprised. . . at this +late hour. But, you see, I remembered our conversations in that garden. I +thought really it was your wish that I should--without loss of time. . . so I +came. No other reason. Simply to tell. . . ." + +He spoke with difficulty. I noticed that, and remembered his declaration to +the man in the shop that he was going out because he "needed air." If that was +his object, then it was clear that he had miserably failed. With downcast eyes +and lowered head he made an effort to pick up the strangled phrase. + +"To tell what I have heard myself only to-day--to-day. . . ." + +Through the door he had not closed I had a view of the drawing-room. It was +lighted only by a shaded lamp--Mrs. Haldin's eyes could not support either gas +or electricity. It was a comparatively big room, and in contrast with the +strongly lighted ante-room its length was lost in semi-transparent gloom backed +by heavy shadows; and on that ground I saw the motionless figure of Mrs. +Haldin, inclined slightly forward, with a pale hand resting on the arm of the +chair. + +She did not move. With the window before her she had no longer that attitude +suggesting expectation. The blind was down; and outside there was only the +night sky harbouring a thunder-cloud, and the town indifferent and hospitable +in its cold, almost scornful, toleration--a respectable town of refuge to which +all these sorrows and hopes were nothing. Her white head was bowed. + +The thought that the real drama of autocracy is not played on the great stage +of politics came to me as, fated to be a spectator, I had this other glimpse +behind the scenes, something more profound than the words and gestures of the +public play. I had the certitude that this mother, refused in her heart to +give her son up after all. It was more than Rachel's inconsolable mourning, it +was something deeper, more inaccessible in its frightful tranquillity. Lost in +the ill-defined mass of the high-backed chair, her white, inclined profile +suggested the contemplation of something in her lap, as though a beloved head +were resting there. + +I had this glimpse behind the scenes, and then Miss Haldin, passing by the +young man, shut the door. It was not done without hesitation. For a moment I +thought that she would go to her mother, but she sent in only an anxious +glance. Perhaps if Mrs. Haldin had moved. . . but no. There was in the +immobility of that bloodless face the dreadful aloofness of suffering without +remedy. + +Meantime the young man kept his eyes fixed on the floor. The thought that he +would have to repeat the story he had told already was intolerable to him. He +had expected to find the two women together. And then, he had said to himself, +it would be over for all time--for all time. "It's lucky I don't believe in +another world," he had thought cynically. + +Alone in his room after having posted his secret letter, he had regained a +certain measure of composure by writing in his secret diary. He was aware of +the danger of that strange self-indulgence. He alludes to it himself, but he +could not refrain. It calmed him--it reconciled him to his existence. He sat +there scribbling by the light of a solitary candle, till it occurred to him +that having heard the explanation of Haldin's arrest, as put forward by Sophia +Antonovna, it behoved him to tell these ladies himself. They were certain to +hear the tale through some other channel, and then his abstention would look +strange, not only to the mother and sister of Haldin, but to other people also. + Having come to this conclusion, he did not discover in himself any marked +reluctance to face the necessity, and very soon an anxiety to be done with it +began to torment him. He looked at his watch. No; it was not absolutely too +late. + +The fifteen minutes with Mrs. Haldin were like the revenge of the unknown: that +white face, that weak, distinct voice; that head, at first turned to him +eagerly, then, after a while, bowed again and motionless--in the dim, still +light of the room in which his words which he tried to subdue resounded so +loudly--had troubled him like some strange discovery. And there seemed to be a +secret obstinacy in that sorrow, something he could not understand; at any +rate, something he had not expected. Was it hostile? But it did not matter. + Nothing could touch him now; in the eyes of the revolutionists there was now +no shadow on his past. The phantom of Haldin had been indeed walked over, was +left behind lying powerless and passive on the pavement covered with snow. And +this was the phantom's mother consumed with grief and white as a ghost. He had +felt a pitying surprise. But that, of course, was of no importance. Mothers +did not matter. He could not shake off the poignant impression of that silent, +quiet, white-haired woman, but a sort of sternness crept into his thoughts. + These were the consequences. Well, what of it? " Am I then on a bed of +roses?" he had exclaimed to himself, sitting at some distance with his eyes +fixed upon that figure of sorrow. He had said all he had to say to her, and +when he had finished she had not uttered a word. She had turned away her head +while he was speaking. The silence which had fallen on his last words had +lasted for five minutes or more. What did it mean? Before its +incomprehensible character he became conscious of anger in his stern mood, the +old anger against Haldin reawakened by the contemplation of Haldin's mother. + And was it not something like enviousness which gripped his heart, as if of a +privilege denied to him alone of all the men that had ever passed through this +world? It was the other who had attained to repose and yet continued to exist +in the affection of that mourning old woman, in the thoughts of all these +people posing for lovers of humanity. It was impossible to get rid of him. + "It's myself whom I have given up to destruction," thought Razumov. "He has +induced me to do it. I can't shake him off." + +Alarmed by that discovery, he got up and strode out of the silent, dim room +with its silent old woman in the chair, that mother! He never looked back. It +was frankly a flight. But on opening the door he saw his retreat cut off: +There was the sister. He had never forgotten the sister, only he had not +expected to see her then--or ever any more, perhaps. Her presence in the +ante-room was as unforeseen as the apparition of her brother had been. Razumov +gave a start as though he had discovered himself cleverly trapped. He tried to +smile, but could not manage it, and lowered his eyes. "Must I repeat that +silly story now?" he asked himself, and felt a sinking sensation. Nothing +solid had passed his lips since the day before, but he was not in a state to +analyse the origins of his weakness. He meant to take up his hat and depart +with as few words as possible, but Miss Haldin's swift movement to shut the +door took him by surprise. He half turned after her, but without raising his +eyes, passively, just as a feather might stir in the disturbed air. The next +moment she was back in the place she had started from, with another half-turn +on his part, so that they came again into the same relative positions. + +"Yes, yes," she said hurriedly. "I am very grateful to you, Kirylo +Sidorovitch, for coming at once--like this. . . . Only, I wish I had. . . . + Did mother tell you?" + +"I wonder what she could have told me that I did not know before," he said, +obviously to himself, but perfectly audible. "Because I always did know it," +he added louder, as if in despair. + +He hung his head. He had such a strong sense of Natalia Haldin's presence that +to look at her he felt would be a relief. It was she who had been haunting him +now. He had suffered that persecution ever since she had suddenly appeared +before him in the garden of the Villa Borel with an extended hand and the name +of her brother on her lips. . . . The ante-room had a row of hooks on the wall +nearest to the outer door, while against the wall opposite there stood a small +dark table and one chair. The paper, bearing a very faint design, was all but +white. The light of an electric bulb high up under the ceiling searched that +clear square box into its four bare corners, crudely, without shadows--a +strange stage for an obscure drama. + +"What do you mean?" asked Miss Haldin. "What is it that you knew always?" + +He raised his face, pale, full of unexpressed suffering. But that look in his +eyes of dull, absent obstinacy, which struck and surprised everybody he was +talking to, began to pass way. It was as though he were coming to himself in +the awakened consciousness of that marvellous harmony of feature, of lines, of +glances, of voice, which made of the girl before him a being so rare, outside, +and, as it were, above the common notion of beauty. He looked at her so long +that she coloured slightly. + +"What is it that you knew?" she repeated vaguely. + +That time he managed to smile. + +"Indeed, if it had not been for a word of greeting or two, I would doubt +whether your mother was aware at all of my existence. You understand?" + +Natalia Haldin nodded; her hands moved slightly by her side. + +"Yes. Is it not heart-breaking? She has not shed a tear yet--not a single +tear." + +"Not a tear! And you, Natalia Victorovna? You have been able to cry?" + +"I have. And then I am young enough, Kirylo Sidorovitch, to believe in the +future. But when I see my mother so terribly distracted, I almost forget +everything. I ask myself whether one should feel proud--or only resigned. We +had such a lot of people coming to see us. There were utter strangers who +wrote asking for permission to call to present their respects. It was +impossible to keep our door shut for ever. You know that Peter Ivanovitch +himself. . . . Oh yes, there was much sympathy, but there were persons who +exulted openly at that death. Then, when I was left alone with poor mother, +all this seemed so wrong in spirit, something not worth the price she is paying +for it. But directly I heard you were here in Geneva, Kirylo Sidorovitch, I +felt that you were the only person who could assist me. . . ." + +"In comforting a bereaved mother? Yes!" he broke in in a manner which made her +open her clear unsuspecting eyes. "But there is a question of fitness. Has +this occurred to you?" + +There was a breathlessness in his utterance which contrasted with the monstrous +hint of mockery in his intention. + +"Why!" whispered Natalia Haldin with feeling. "Who more fit than you?" + +He had a convulsive movement of exasperation, but controlled himself. + +"Indeed! Directly you heard that I was in Geneva, before even seeing me? It +is another proof of that confidence which. . . ." + +All at once his tone changed, became more incisive and more detached. + +"Men are poor creatures, Natalia Victorovna. They have no intuition of +sentiment. In order to speak fittingly to a mother of her lost son one must +have had some experience of the filial relation. It is not the case with +me--if you must know the whole truth. Your hopes have to deal here with 'a +breast unwarmed by any affection,' as the poet says. . . . That does not mean +it is insensible," he added in a lower tone. + +"I am certain your heart is not unfeeling," said Miss Haldin softly. + +"No. It is not as hard as a stone," he went on in the same introspective +voice, and looking as if his heart were lying as heavy as a stone in that +unwarmed breast of which he spoke. "No, not so hard. But how to prove what +you give me credit for--ah! that's another question. No one has ever expected +such a thing from me before. No one whom my tenderness would have been of any +use to. And now you come. You! Now! No, Natalia Victorovna. It's too late. + You come too late. You must expect nothing from me." + +She recoiled from him a little, though he had made no movement, as if she had +seen some change in his face, charging his words with the significance of some +hidden sentiment they shared together. To me, the silent spectator, they +looked like two people becoming conscious of a spell which had been lying on +them ever since they first set eyes on each other. Had either of them cast a +glance then in my direction, I would have opened the door quietly and gone out. + But neither did; and I remained, every fear of indiscretion lost in the sense +of my enormous remoteness from their captivity within the sombre horizon of +Russian problems, the boundary of their eyes, of their feelings--the prison of +their souls. + +Frank, courageous, Miss Haldin controlled her voice in the midst of her trouble. + +"What can this mean?" she asked, as if speaking to herself. + +"It may mean that you have given yourself up to vain imaginings while I have +managed to remain amongst the truth of things and the realities of life--our +Russian life--such as they are." + +"They are cruel," she murmured. + +"And ugly. Don't forget that--and ugly. Look where you like. Look near you, +here abroad where you are, and then look back at home, whence you came." + +"One must look beyond the present." Her tone had an ardent conviction. + +"The blind can do that best. I have had the misfortune to be born clear-eyed. + And if you only knew what strange things I have seen! What amazing and +unexpected apparitions!. . . But why talk of all this?" + +"On the contrary, I want to talk of all this with you," she protested with +earnest serenity. The sombre humours of her brother's friend left her +unaffected, as though that bitterness, that suppressed anger, were the signs of +an indignant rectitude. She saw that he was not an ordinary person, and +perhaps she did not want him to be other than he appeared to her trustful eyes. + "Yes, with you especially," she insisted. "With you of all the Russian people +in the world. . . ." A faint smile dwelt for a moment on her lips. "I am like +poor mother in a way. I too seem unable to give up our beloved dead, who, +don't forget, was all in all to us. I don't want to abuse your sympathy, but +you must understand that it is in you that we can find all that is left of his +generous soul." + +I was looking at him; not a muscle of his face moved in the least. And yet, +even at the time, I did not suspect him of insensibility. It was a sort of +rapt thoughtfulness. Then he stirred slightly. + +"You are going, Kirylo Sidorovitch?" she asked. + +"I! Going? Where? Oh yes, but I must tell you first. . . ." His voice was +muffled and he forced himself to produce it with visible repugnance, as if +speech were something disgusting or deadly. "That story, you know--the story I +heard this afternoon. . . ." + +"I know the story already," she said sadly. + +"You know it! Have you correspondents in St. Petersburg too?" + +"No. It's Sophia Antonovna. I have seen her just now. She sends you her +greetings. She is going away to-morrow." + +He had lowered at last his fascinated glance; she too was looking down, and +standing thus before each other in the glaring light, between the four bare +walls, they seemed brought out from the confused immensity of the Eastern +borders to be exposed cruelly to the observation of my Western eyes. And I +observed them. There was nothing else to do. My existence seemed so utterly +forgotten by these two that I dared not now make a movement. And I thought to +myself that, of course, they had to come together, the sister and the friend of +that dead man. The ideas, the hopes, the aspirations, the cause of Freedom, +expressed in their common affection for Victor Haldin, the moral victim of +autocracy,--all this must draw them to each other fatally. Her very ignorance +and his loneliness to which he had alluded so strangely must work to that end. + And, indeed, I saw that the work was done already. Of course. It was +manifest that they must have been thinking of each other for a long time before +they met. She had the letter from that beloved brother kindling her +imagination by the severe praise attached to that one name; and for him to see +that exceptional girl was enough. The only cause for surprise was his gloomy +aloofness before her clearly expressed welcome. But he was young, and however +austere and devoted to his revolutionary ideals, he was not blind. The period +of reserve was over; he was coming forward in his own way. I could not mistake +the significance of this late visit, for in what he had to say there was +nothing urgent. The true cause dawned upon me: he had discovered that he +needed her and she was moved by the same feeling. It was the second time that +I saw them together, and I knew that next time they met I would not be there, +either remembered or forgotten. I would have virtually ceased to exist for +both these young people. + +I made this discovery in a very few moments. Meantime, Natalia Haldin was +telling Razumov briefly of our peregrinations from one end of Geneva to the +other. While speaking she raised her hands above her head to untie her veil, +and that movement displayed for an instant the seductive grace of her youthful +figure, clad in the simplest of mourning. In the transparent shadow the hat +rim threw on her face her grey eyes had an enticing lustre. Her voice, with +its unfeminine yet exquisite timbre, was steady, and she spoke quickly, frank, +unembarrassed. As she justified her action by the mental state of her mother, +a spasm of pain marred the generously confiding harmony of her features. I +perceived that with his downcast eyes he had the air of a man who is listening +to a strain of music rather than to articulated speech. And in the same way, +after she had ceased, he seemed to listen yet, motionless, as if under the +spell of suggestive sound. He came to himself, muttering-- + +"Yes, yes. She has not shed a tear. She did not seem to hear what I was +saying. I might have told her anything. She looked as if no longer belonging +to this world." + +Miss Haldin gave signs of profound distress. Her voice faltered. "You don't +know how bad it has come to be. She expects now to see _him_!" The veil +dropped from her fingers and she clasped her hands in anguish. "It shall end +by her seeing him," she cried. + +Razumov raised his head sharply and attached on her a prolonged thoughtful +glance. + +"H'm. That's very possible," he muttered in a peculiar tone, as if giving his +opinion on a matter of fact. "I wonder what. . . ." He checked himself. + +"That would be the end. Her mind shall be gone then, and her spirit will +follow." + +Miss Haldin unclasped her hands and let them fall by her side. + +"You think so?" he queried profoundly. Miss Haldin's lips were slightly +parted. Something unexpected and unfathomable in that young man's character +had fascinated her from the first. "No! There's neither truth nor consolation +to be got from the phantoms of the dead," he added after a weighty pause. "I +might have told her something true; for instance, that your brother meant to +save his life--to escape. There can be no doubt of that. But I did not." + +"You did not! But why?" + +"I don't know. Other thoughts came into my head," he answered. He seemed to +me to be watching himself inwardly, as though he were trying to count his own +heart-beats, while his eyes never for a moment left the face of the girl. "You +were not there," he continued. "I had made up my mind never to see you again." + +This seemed to take her breath away for a moment. + +"You. . . . How is it possible?" + +"You may well ask. . . . However, I think that I refrained from telling your +mother from prudence. I might have assured her that in the last conversation +he held as a free man he mentioned you both. . . ." + +"That last conversation was with you," she struck in her deep, moving voice. + "Some day you must. . . ." + +"It was with me. Of you he said that you had trustful eyes. And why I have +not been able to forget that phrase I don't know. It meant that there is in +you no guile, no deception, no falsehood, no suspicion--nothing in your heart +that could give you a conception of a living, acting, speaking lie, if ever it +came in your way. That you are a predestined victim. . . . Ha! what a +devilish suggestion!" + +The convulsive, uncontrolled tone of the last words disclosed the precarious +hold he had over himself. He was like a man defying his own dizziness in high +places and tottering suddenly on the very edge of the precipice. Miss Haldin +pressed her hand to her breast. The dropped black veil lay on the floor +between them. Her movement steadied him. He looked intently on that hand till +it descended slowly, and then raised again his eyes to her face. But he did +not give her time to speak. + +"No? You don't understand? Very well." He had recovered his calm by a +miracle of will. "So you talked with Sophia Antonovna?" + +"Yes. Sophia Antonovna told me. . . ." Miss Haldin stopped, wonder growing in +her wide eyes. + +"H'm. That's the respectable enemy," he muttered, as though he were alone. + +"The tone of her references to you was extremely friendly," remarked Miss +Haldin, after waiting for a while. + +"Is that your impression? And she the most intelligent of the lot, too. + Things then are going as well as possible. Everything conspires to. . . . + Ah! these conspirators," he said slowly, with an accent of scorn; "they would +get hold of you in no time! You know, Natalia Victorovna, I have the greatest +difficulty in saving myself from the superstition of an active Providence. + It's irresistible. . . . The alternative, of course, would be the personal +Devil of our simple ancestors. But, if so, he has overdone it altogether--the +old Father of Lies--our national patron--our domestic god, whom we take with us +when we go abroad. He has overdone it. It seems that I am not simple enough. +. . . That's it! I ought to have known. . . . And I did know it," he added +in a tone of poignant distress which overcame my astonishment. + +"This man is deranged," I said to myself, very much frightened. + +The next moment he gave me a very special impression beyond the range of +commonplace definitions. It was as though he had stabbed himself outside and +had come in there to show it; and more than that--as though he were turning the +knife in the wound and watching the effect. That was the impression, rendered +in physical terms. One could not defend oneself from a certain amount of pity. + But it was for Miss Haldin, already so tried in her deepest affections, that I +felt a serious concern. Her attitude, her face, expressed compassion +struggling with doubt on the verge of terror. + +"What is it, Kirylo Sidorovitch?" There was a hint of tenderness in that cry. + He only stared at her in that complete surrender of all his faculties which in +a happy lover would have had the name of ecstasy. + +"Why are you looking at me like this, Kirylo Sidorovitch? I have approached +you frankly. I need at this time to see clearly in myself. . . ." She ceased +for a moment as if to give him an opportunity to utter at last some word worthy +of her exalted trust in her brother's friend. His silence became impressive, +like a sign of a momentous resolution. + +In the end Miss Haldin went on, appealingly-- + +"I have waited for you anxiously. But now that you have been moved to come to +us in your kindness, you alarm me. You speak obscurely. It seems as if you +were keeping back something from me." + +"Tell me, Natalia Victorovna," he was heard at last in a strange unringing +voice, "whom did you see in that place?" + +She was startled, and as if deceived in her expectations. + +"Where? In Peter Ivanovitch's rooms? There was Mr. Laspara and three other +people." + +"Ha! The vanguard--the forlorn hope of the great plot," he commented to +himself. "Bearers of the spark to start an explosion which is meant to change +fundamentally the lives of so many millions in order that Peter Ivanovitch +should be the head of a State." + +"You are teasing me," she said. "Our dear one told me once to remember that +men serve always something greater than themselves--the idea." + +"Our dear one," he repeated slowly. The effort he made to appear unmoved +absorbed all the force of his soul. He stood before her like a being with +hardly a breath of life. His eyes, even as under great physical suffering, had +lost all their fire. "Ah! your brother. . . . But on your lips, in your +voice, it sounds. . . and indeed in you everything is divine. . . . I wish I +could know the innermost depths of your thoughts, of your feelings." + +"But why, Kirylo Sidorovitch?" she cried, alarmed by these words coming out of +strangely lifeless lips. + +"Have no fear. It is not to betray you. So you went there? . . . And Sophia +Antonovna, what did she tell you, then?" + +"She said very little, really. She knew that I should hear everything from +you. She had no time for more than a few words." Miss Haldin's voice dropped +and she became silent for a moment. "The man, it appears, has taken his life," +she said sadly. + +"Tell me, Natalia Victorovna," he asked after a pause, "do you believe in +remorse?" + +"What a question!" + +"What can _you_ know of it?" he muttered thickly. "It is not for such as you. +. . . What I meant to ask was whether you believed in the efficacy of remorse?" + +She hesitated as though she had not understood, then her face lighted up. + +"Yes," she said firmly. + +"So he is absolved. Moreover, that Ziemianitch was a brute, a drunken brute." + +A shudder passed through Natalia Haldin. + +"But a man of the people," Razumov went on, "to whom they, the revolutionists, +tell a tale of sublime hopes. Well, the people must be forgiven. . . . And +you must not believe all you've heard from that source, either," he added, with +a sort of sinister reluctance. + +"You are concealing something from me," she exclaimed. + +"Do you, Natalia Victorovna, believe in the duty of revenge?" + +"Listen, Kirylo Sidorovitch. I believe that the future shall be merciful to us +all. Revolutionist and reactionary, victim and executioner, betrayer and +betrayed, they shall all be pitied together when the light breaks on our black +sky at last. Pitied and forgotten; for without that there can be no union and +no love." + +"I hear. No revenge for you, then? Never? Not the least bit?" He smiled +bitterly with his colourless lips. "You yourself are like the very spirit of +that merciful future. Strange that it does not make it easier. . . . No! But +suppose that the real betrayer of your brother--Ziemianitch had a part in it +too, but insignificant and quite involuntary--suppose that he was a young man, +educated, an intellectual worker, thoughtful, a man your brother might have +trusted lightly, perhaps, but still--suppose. . . . But there's a whole story +there." + +"And you know the story! But why, then--" + +"I have heard it. There is a staircase in it, and even phantoms, but that does +not matter if a man always serves something greater than himself--the idea. I +wonder who is the greatest victim in that tale?" + +"In that tale!" Miss Haldin repeated. She seemed turned into stone. + +"Do you know why I came to you? It is simply because there is no one anywhere +in the whole great world I could go to. Do you understand what I say? Not one +to go to. Do you conceive the desolation of the thought--no one--to--go--to?" + +Utterly misled by her own enthusiastic interpretation of two lines in the +letter of a visionary, under the spell of her own dread of lonely days, in +their overshadowed world of angry strife, she was unable to see the truth +struggling on his lips. What she was conscious of was the obscure form of his +suffering. She was on the point of extending her hand to him impulsively when +he spoke again. + +"An hour after I saw you first I knew how it would be. The terrors of remorse, +revenge, confession, anger, hate, fear, are like nothing to the atrocious +temptation which you put in my way the day you appeared before me with your +voice, with your face, in the garden of that accursed villa." + +She looked utterly bewildered for a moment; then, with a sort of despairing +insight went straight to the point. + +"The story, Kirylo Sidorovitch, the story!" + +"There is no more to tell!" He made a movement forward, and she actually put +her hand on his shoulder to push him away; but her strength failed her, and he +kept his ground, though trembling in every limb. "It ends here--on this very +spot." He pressed a denunciatory finger to his breast with force, and became +perfectly still. + +I ran forward, snatching up the chair, and was in time to catch hold of Miss +Haldin and lower her down. As she sank into it she swung half round on my arm, +and remained averted from us both, drooping over the back. He looked at her +with an appalling expressionless tranquillity. Incredulity, struggling with +astonishment, anger, and disgust, deprived me for a time of the power of +speech. Then I turned on him, whispering from very rage-- + +"This is monstrous. What are you staying for? Don't let her catch sight of +you again. Go away! . . ." He did not budge. "Don't you understand that your +presence is intolerable--even to me? If there's any sense of shame in you. . . +." + +Slowly his sullen eyes moved ill my direction. "How did this old man come +here?" he muttered, astounded. + +Suddenly Miss Haldin sprang up from the chair, made a few steps, and tottered. + Forgetting my indignation, and even the man himself, I hurried to her +assistance. I took her by the arm, and she let me lead her into the +drawing-room. Away from the lamp, in the deeper dusk of the distant end, the +profile of Mrs. Haldin, her hands, her whole figure had the stillness of a +sombre painting. Miss Haldin stopped, and pointed mournfully at the tragic +immobility of her mother, who seemed to watch a beloved head lying in her lap. + +That gesture had an unequalled force of expression, so far-reaching in its +human distress that one could not believe that it pointed out merely the +ruthless working of political institutions. After assisting Miss Haldin to the +sofa, I turned round to go back and shut the door Framed in the opening, in the +searching glare of the white anteroom, my eyes fell on Razumov, still there, +standing before the empty chair, as if rooted for ever to the spot of his +atrocious confession. A wonder came over me that the mysterious force which +had torn it out of him had failed to destroy his life, to shatter his body. It +was there unscathed. I stared at the broad line of his shoulders, his dark +head, the amazing immobility of his limbs. At his feet the veil dropped by +Miss Haldin looked intensely black in the white crudity of the light. He was +gazing at it spell-bound. Next moment, stooping with an incredible, savage +swiftness, he snatched it up and pressed it to his face with both hands. + Something, extreme astonishment perhaps, dimmed my eyes, so that he seemed to +vanish before he moved. + +The slamming of the outer door restored my sight, and I went on contemplating +the empty chair in the empty ante-room. The meaning of what I had seen reached +my mind with a staggering shock. I seized Natalia Haldin by the shoulder. + +"That miserable wretch has carried off your veil!" I cried, in the scared, +deadened voice of an awful discovery. "He. . . ." + +The rest remained unspoken. I stepped back and looked down at her, in silent +horror. Her hands were lying lifelessly, palms upwards, on her lap. She +raised her grey eyes slowly. Shadows seemed to come and go in them as if the +steady flame of her soul had been made to vacillate at last in the +cross-currents of poisoned air from the corrupted dark immensity claiming her +for its own, where virtues themselves fester into crimes in the cynicism of +oppression and revolt. + +"It is impossible to be more unhappy. . . ." The languid whisper of her voice +struck me with dismay. "It is impossible. . . . I feel my heart becoming like +ice." + + +IV + + +Razumov walked straight home on the wet glistening pavement. A heavy shower +passed over him; distant lightning played faintly against the fronts of the +dumb houses with the shuttered shops all along the Rue de Carouge; and now and +then, after the faint flash, there was a faint, sleepy rumble; but the main +forces of the thunderstorm remained massed down the Rhone valley as if loath to +attack the respectable and passionless abode of democratic liberty, the +serious-minded town of dreary hotels, tendering the same indifferent, +hospitality to tourists of all nations and to international conspirators of +every shade. + +The owner of the shop was making ready to close when Razumov entered and +without a word extended his hand for the key of his room. On reaching it for +him, from a shelf, the man was about to pass a small joke as to taking the air +in a thunderstorm, but, after looking at the face of his lodger, he only +observed, just to say something-- + +"You've got very wet." + +"Yes, I am washed clean," muttered Razumov, who was dripping from head to foot, +and passed through the inner door towards the staircase leading to his room. + +He did not change his clothes, but, after lighting the candle, took off his +watch and chain, laid them on the table, and sat down at once to write. The +book of his compromising record was kept in a locked drawer, which he pulled +out violently, and did not even trouble to push back afterwards. + +In this queer pedantism of a man who had read, thought, lived, pen in hand, +there is the sincerity of the attempt to grapple by the same means with another +profounder knowledge. After some passages which have been already made use of +in the building up of this narrative, or add nothing new to the psychological +side of this disclosure (there is even one more allusion to the silver medal in +this last entry), comes a page and a half of incoherent writing where his +expression is baffled by the novelty and the mysteriousness of that side of our +emotional life to which his solitary existence had been a stranger. Then only +he begins to address directly the reader he had in his mind, trying to express +in broken sentences, full of wonder and awe, the sovereign (he uses that very +word) power of her person over his imagination, in which lay the dormant seed +of her brother's words. + +". . . The most trustful eyes in the world--your brother said of you when he +was as well as a dead man already. And when you stood before me with your hand +extended, I remembered the very sound of his voice, and I looked into your +eyes--and that was enough. I knew that something had happened, but I did not +know then what. . . . But don't be deceived, Natalia Victorovna. I believed +that I had in my breast nothing but an inexhaustible fund of anger and hate for +you both. I remembered that he had looked to you for the perpetuation of his +visionary soul. He, this man who had robbed me of my hard-working, purposeful +existence. I, too, had my guiding idea; and remember that, amongst us, it is +more difficult to lead a life of toil and self-denial than to go out in the +street and kill from conviction. But enough of that. Hate or no hate, I felt +at once that, while shunning the sight of you, I could never succeed in driving +away your image. I would say, addressing that dead man, 'Is this the way you +are going to haunt me?' It is only later on that I understood--only to-day, +only a few hours ago. What could I have known of what was tearing me to pieces +and dragging the secret for ever to my lips? You were appointed to undo the +evil by making me betray myself back into truth and peace. You! And you have +done it in the same way, too, in which he ruined me: by forcing upon me your +confidence. Only what I detested him for, in you ended by appearing noble and +exalted. But, I repeat, be not deceived. I was given up to evil. I exulted +in having induced that silly innocent fool to steal his father's money. He was +a fool, but not a thief. I made him one. It was necessary. I had to confirm +myself in my contempt and hate for what I betrayed. I have suffered from as +many vipers in my heart as any social democrat of them all--vanity, ambitions, +jealousies, shameful desires, evil passions of envy and revenge. I had my +security stolen from me, years of good work, my best hopes. Listen--now comes +the true confession. The other was nothing. To save me, your trustful eyes +had to entice my thought to the very edge of the blackest treachery. I could +see them constantly looking at me with the confidence of your pure heart which +had not been touched by evil things. Victor Haldin had stolen the truth of my +life from me, who had nothing else in the world, and he boasted of living on +through you on this earth where I had no place to lay my head on. She will +marry some day, he had said--and your eyes were trustful. And do you know what +I said to myself? I shall steal his sister's soul from her. When we met that +first morning in the gardens, and you spoke to me confidingly in the generosity +of your spirit, I was thinking, 'Yes, he himself by talking of her trustful +eyes has delivered her into my hands!' If you could have looked then into my +heart, you would have cried out aloud with terror and disgust. + +"Perhaps no one will believe the baseness of such an intention to be possible. + It's certain that, when we parted that morning, I gloated over it. I brooded +upon the best way. The old man you introduced me to insisted on walking with +me. I don't know who he is. He talked of you, of your lonely, helpless state, +and every word of that friend of yours was egging me on to the unpardonable sin +of stealing a soul. Could he have been the devil himself in the shape of an +old Englishman? Natalia Victorovna, I was possessed! I returned to look at +you every day, and drink in your presence the poison of my infamous intention. + But I foresaw difficulties. Then Sophia Antonovna, of whom I was not +thinking--I had forgotten her existence--appears suddenly with that tale from +St. Petersburg. . . . The only thing needed to make me safe--a trusted +revolutionist for ever. + +"It was as if Ziemianitch had hanged himself to help me on to further crime. + The strength of falsehood seemed irresistible. These people stood doomed by +the folly and the illusion that was in them--they being themselves the slaves +of lies. Natalia Victorovna, I embraced the might of falsehood, I exulted in +it--I gave myself up to it for a time. Who could have resisted! You yourself +were the prize of it. I sat alone in my room, planning a life, the very +thought of which makes me shudder now, like a believer who had been tempted to +an atrocious sacrilege. But I brooded ardently over its images. The only +thing was that there seemed to be no air in it. And also I was afraid of your +mother. I never knew mine. I've never known any kind of love. There is +something in the mere word. . . . Of you, I was not afraid--forgive me for +telling you this. No, not of you. You were truth itself. You could not +suspect me. As to your mother, you yourself feared already that her mind had +given way from grief. Who could believe anything against me? Had not +Ziemianitch hanged himself from remorse? I said to myself, 'Let's put it to +the test, and be done with it once for all.' I trembled when I went in; but +your mother hardly listened to what I was saying to her, and, in a little +while, seemed to have forgotten my very existence. I sat looking at her. + There was no longer anything between you and me. You were defenceless--and +soon, very soon, you would be alone. . . . I thought of you. Defenceless. + For days you have talked with me--opening your heart. I remembered the shadow +of your eyelashes over your grey trustful eyes. And your pure forehead! It is +low like the forehead of statues--calm, unstained. It was as if your pure brow +bore a light which fell on me, searched my heart and saved me from ignominy, +from ultimate undoing. And it saved you too. Pardon my presumption. But +there was that in your glances which seemed to tell me that you. . . . Your +light! your truth! I felt that I must tell you that I had ended by loving you. + And to tell you that I must first confess. Confess, go out--and perish. + +"Suddenly you stood before me! You alone in all the world to whom I must +confess. You fascinated me--you have freed me from the blindness of anger and +hate--the truth shining in you drew the truth out of me. Now I have done it; +and as I write here, I am in the depths depths of anguish, but there is air to +breathe at last--air! And, by the by, that old man sprang up from somewhere as +I was speaking to you, and raged at me like a disappointed devil. I suffer +horribly, but I am not in despair. There is only one more thing to do for me. + After that--if they let me--I shall go away and bury myself in obscure misery. + In giving Victor Haldin up, it was myself, after all, whom I have betrayed +most basely. You must believe what I say now, you can't refuse to believe +this. Most basely. It is through you that I came to feel this so deeply. + After all, it is they and not I who have the right on their side?--theirs is +the strength of invisible powers. So be it. Only don't be deceived, Natalia +Victorovna, I am not converted. Have I then the soul of a slave? No! I am +independent--and therefore perdition is my lot." + +On these words, he stopped writing, shut the book, and wrapped it in the black +veil he had carried off. He then ransacked the drawers for paper and string, +made up a parcel which he addressed to Miss Haldin, Boulevard des Philosophes, +and then flung the pen away from him into a distant corner. + +This done, he sat down with the watch before him. He could have gone out at +once, but the hour had not struck yet. The hour would be midnight. There was +no reason for that choice except that the facts and the words of a certain +evening in his past were timing his conduct in the present. The sudden power +Natalia Haldin had gained over him he ascribed to the same cause. "You don't +walk with impunity over a phantom's breast," he heard himself mutter. "Thus he +saves me," he thought suddenly. "He himself, the betrayed man." The vivid +image of Miss Haldin seemed to stand by him, watching him relentlessly. She +was not disturbing. He had done with life, and his thought even in her +presence tried to take an impartial survey. Now his scorn extended to himself. + "I had neither the simplicity nor the courage nor the self-possession to be a +scoundrel, or an exceptionally able man. For who, with us in Russia, is to +tell a scoundrel from an exceptionally able man? . . ." + +He was the puppet of his past, because at the very stroke of midnight he jumped +up and ran swiftly downstairs as if confident that, by the power of destiny, +the house door would fly open before the absolute necessity of his errand. And +as a matter of fact, just as he got to the bottom of the stairs, it was opened +for him by some people of the house coming home late--two men and a woman. He +slipped out through them into the street, swept then by a fitful gust of wind. + They were, of course, very much startled. A flash of lightning enabled them +to observe him walking away quickly. One of the men shouted, and was starting +in pursuit, but the woman had recognized him. "It's all right. It's only that +young Russian from the third floor." The darkness returned with a single clap +of thunder, like a gun fired for a warning of his escape from the prison of +lies. + +He must have heard at some time or other and now remembered unconsciously that +there was to be a gathering of revolutionists at the house of Julius Laspara +that evening. At any rate, he made straight for the Laspara house, and found +himself without surprise ringing at its street door, which, of course, was +closed. By that time the thunderstorm had attacked in earnest. The steep +incline of the street ran with water, the thick fall of rain enveloped him like +a luminous veil in the play of lightning. He was perfectly calm, and, between +the crashes, listened attentively to the delicate tinkling of the doorbell +somewhere within the house. + +There was some difficulty before he was admitted. His person was not known to +that one of the guests who had volunteered to go downstairs and see what was +the matter. Razumov argued with him patiently. There could be no harm in +admitting a caller. He had something to communicate to the company upstairs. + +"Something of importance?" + +"That'll be for the hearers to judge." + +"Urgent?" + +"Without a moment's delay." + +Meantime, one of the Laspara daughters descended the stairs, small lamp in +hand, in a grimy and crumpled gown, which seemed to hang on her by a miracle, +and looking more than ever like an old doll with a dusty brown wig, dragged +from under a sofa. She recognized Razumov at once. + +"How do you do? Of course you may come in." + +following her light, Razumov climbed two flights of stairs from the lower +darkness. Leaving the lamp on a bracket on the landing, she opened a door, and +went in, accompanied by the sceptical guest. Razumov entered last. He closed +the door behind him, and stepping on one side, put his back against the wall. + +The three little rooms _en suite_, with low, smoky ceilings and lit by paraffin +lamps, were crammed with people. Loud talking was going on in all three, and +tea-glasses, full, half-full, and empty, stood everywhere, even on the floor. + The other Laspara girl sat, dishevelled and languid, behind an enormous +samovar. In the inner doorway Razumov had a glimpse of the protuberance of a +large stomach, which he recognized. Only a few feet from him Julius Laspara +was getting down hurriedly from his high stool. + +The appearance of the midnight visitor caused no small sensation. Laspara is +very summary in his version of that night's happenings. After some words of +greeting, disregarded by Razumov, Laspara (ignoring purposely his guest's +soaked condition and his extraordinary manner of presenting himself) mentioned +something about writing an article. He was growing uneasy, and Razumov +appeared absent-minded. "I have written already all I shall ever write," he +said at last, with a little laugh. + +The whole company's attention was riveted on the new-comer, dripping with +water, deadly pale, and keeping his position against the wall. Razumov put +Laspara gently aside, as though he wished to be seen from head to foot by +everybody. By then the buzz of conversations had died down completely, even in +the most distant of the three rooms. The doorway facing Razumov became blocked +by men and women, who craned their necks and certainly seemed to expect +something startling to happen. + +A squeaky, insolent declaration was heard from that group. + +"I know this ridiculously conceited individual." + +"What individual?" asked Razumov, raising his bowed head, and searching with +his eyes all the eyes fixed upon him. An intense surprised silence lasted for +a time. "If it's me. . . ." + +He stopped, thinking over the form of his confession, and found it suddenly, +unavoidably suggested by the fateful evening of his life. + +"I am come here," he began, in a clear voice, "to talk of an individual called +Ziemianitch. Sophia Antonovna has informed me that she would make public a +certain letter from St. Petersburg. . . ." + +"Sophia Antonovna has left us early in the evening," said Laspara. "It's +quite correct. Everybody here has heard. . . ." + +"Very well," Razumov interrupted, with a shade of impatience, for his heart was +beating strongly. Then, mastering his voice so far that there was even a touch +of irony in his clear, forcible enunciation-- + +"In justice to that individual, the much ill-used peasant, Ziemianitch, I now +declare solemnly that the conclusions of that letter calumniate a man of the +people--a bright Russian soul. Ziemianitch had nothing to do with the actual +arrest of Victor Haldin." + +Razumov dwelt on the name heavily, and then waited till the faint, mournful +murmur which greeted it had died out. + +"Victor Victorovitch Haldin," he began again, "acting with, no doubt, +noble-minded imprudence, took refuge with a certain student of whose opinions +he knew nothing but what his own illusions suggested to his generous heart. It +was an unwise display of confidence. But I am not here to appreciate the +actions of Victor Haldin. Am I to tell you of the feelings of that student, +sought out in his obscure solitude, and menaced by the complicity forced upon +him? Am I to tell you what he did? It's a rather complicated story. In the +end the student went to General T--- himself, and said, 'I have the man who +killed de P--- locked up in my room, Victor Haldin--a student like myself.'" + +A great buzz arose, in which Razumov raised his voice. + +"Observe--that man had certain honest ideals in view. But I didn't come here +to explain him." + +"No. But you must explain how you know all this," came in grave tones from +somebody. + +"A vile coward!" This simple cry vibrated with indignation. "Name him!" +shouted other voices. + +"What are you clamouring for?" said Razumov disdainfully, in the profound +silence which fell on the raising of his hand. "Haven't you all understood +that I am that man?" + +Laspara went away brusquely from his side and climbed upon his stool. In the +first forward surge of people towards him, Razumov expected to be torn to +pieces, but they fell back without touching him, and nothing came of it but +noise. It was bewildering. His head ached terribly. In the confused uproar +he made out several times the name of Peter Ivanovitch, the word "judgement," +and the phrase, "But this is a confession," uttered by somebody in a desperate +shriek. In the midst of the tumult, a young man, younger than himself, +approached him with blazing eyes. + +"I must beg you," he said, with venomous politeness, "to be good enough not to +move from this spot till you are told what you are to do." + +Razumov shrugged his shoulders. "I came in voluntarily." + +"Maybe. But you won't go out till you are permitted," retorted the other. + +He beckoned with his hand, calling out, "Louisa! Louisa! come here, please"; +and, presently, one of the Laspara girls (they had been staring at Razumov from +behind the samovar) came along, trailing a bedraggled tail of dirty flounces, +and dragging with her a chair, which she set against the door, and, sitting +down on it, crossed her legs. The young man thanked her effusively, and +rejoined a group carrying on an animated discussion in low tones. Razumov lost +himself for a moment. + +A squeaky voice screamed, "Confession or no confession, you are a police spy!" + +The revolutionist Nikita had pushed his way in front of Razumov, and faced him +with his big, livid cheeks, his heavy paunch, bull neck, and enormous hands. + Razumov looked at the famous slayer of gendarmes in silent disgust. + +"And what are you?" he said, very low, then shut his eyes, and rested the back +of his head against the wall. + +"It would be better for you to depart now." Razumov heard a mild, sad voice, +and opened his eyes. The gentle speaker was an elderly man, with a great brush +of fine hair making a silvery halo all round his keen, intelligent face. + "Peter Ivanovitch shall be informed of your confession--and you shall be +directed. . . ." + +Then, turning to Nikita, nicknamed Necator, standing by, he appealed to him in +a murmur-- + +"What else can we do? After this piece of sincerity he cannot be dangerous any +longer." + +The other muttered, "Better make sure of that before we let him go. Leave that +to me. I know how to deal with such gentlemen." + +He exchanged meaning glances with two or three men, who nodded slightly, then +turning roughly to Razumov, "You have heard? You are not wanted here. Why +don't you get out?" + +The Laspara girl on guard rose, and pulled the chair out of the way +unemotionally. She gave a sleepy stare to Razumov, who started, looked round +the room and passed slowly by her as if struck by some sudden thought. + +"I beg you to observe," he said, already on the landing, "that I had only to +hold my tongue. To-day, of all days since I came amongst you, I was made safe, +and to-day I made myself free from falsehood, from remorse--independent of +every single human being on this earth." + +He turned his back on the room, and walked towards the stairs, but, at the +violent crash of the door behind him, he looked over his shoulder and saw that +Nikita, with three others, had followed him out. "They are going to kill me, +after all," he thought. + +Before he had time to turn round and confront them fairly, they set on him with +a rush. He was driven headlong against the wall. "I wonder how," he completed +his thought. Nikita cried, with a shrill laugh right in his face, "We shall +make you harmless. You wait a bit." + +Razumov did not struggle. The three men held him pinned against the wall, +while Nikita, taking up a position a little on one side, deliberately swung off +his enormous arm. Razumov, looking for a knife in his hand, saw it come at him +open, unarmed, and received a tremendous blow on the side of his head over his +ear. At the same time he heard a faint, dull detonating sound, as if some one +had fired a pistol on the other side of the wall. A raging fury awoke in him +at this outrage. The people in Laspara's rooms, holding their breath, listened +to the desperate scuffling of four men all over the landing; thuds against the +walls, a terrible crash against the very door, then all of them went down +together with a violence which seemed to shake the whole house. Razumov, +overpowered, breathless, crushed under the weight of his assailants, saw the +monstrous Nikita squatting on his heels near his head, while the others held +him down, kneeling on his chest, gripping his throat, lying across his legs. + +"Turn his face the other way," the paunchy terrorist directed, in an excited, +gleeful squeak. + +Razumov could struggle no longer. He was exhausted; he had to watch passively +the heavy open hand of the brute descend again in a degrading blow over his +other ear. It seemed to split his head in two, and all at once the men holding +him became perfectly silent--soundless as shadows. In silence they pulled him +brutally to his feet, rushed with him noiselessly down the staircase, and, +opening the door, flung him out into the street. + +He fell forward, and at once rolled over and over helplessly, going down the +short slope together with the rush of running rain water. He came to rest in +the roadway of the street at the bottom, lying on his back, with a great flash +of lightning over his face--a vivid, silent flash of lightning which blinded +him utterly. He picked himself up, and put his arm over his eyes to recover +his sight. Not a sound reached him from anywhere, and he began to walk, +staggering, down a long, empty street. The lightning waved and darted round +him its silent flames, the water of the deluge fell, ran, leaped, +drove--noiseless like the drift of mist. In this unearthly stillness his +footsteps fell silent on the pavement, while a dumb wind drove him on and on, +like a lost mortal in a phantom world ravaged by a soundless thunderstorm. God +only knows where his noiseless feet took him to that night, here and there, and +back again without pause or rest. Of one place, at least, where they did lead +him, we heard afterwards; and, in the morning, the driver of the first +south-shore tramcar, clanging his bell desperately, saw a bedraggled, soaked +man without a hat, and walking in the roadway unsteadily with his head down, +step right in front of his car, and go under. + +When they picked him up, with two broken limbs and a crushed side, Razumov had +not lost consciousness. It was as though he had tumbled, smashing himself, +into a world of mutes. Silent men, moving unheard, lifted him up, laid him on +the sidewalk, gesticulating and grimacing round him their alarm, horror, and +compassion. A red face with moustaches stooped close over him, lips moving, +eyes rolling. Razumov tried hard to understand the reason of this dumb show. + To those who stood around him, the features of that stranger, so grievously +hurt, seemed composed in meditation. Afterwards his eyes sent out at them a +look of fear and closed slowly. They stared at him. Razumov made an effort to +remember some French words. + +"_Je suis sourd_," he had time to utter feebly, before he fainted. + +"He is deaf," they exclaimed to each other. "That's why he did not hear the +car." + +They carried him off in that same car. Before it started on its journey, a +woman in a shabby black dress, who had run out of the iron gate of some private +grounds up the road, clambered on to the rear platform and would not be put off. + +"I am a relation," she insisted, in bad French. "This young man is a Russian, +and I am his relation." On this plea they let her have her way. She sat down +calmly, and took his head on her lap; her scared faded eyes avoided looking at +his deathlike face. At the corner of a street, on the other side of the town, +a stretcher met the car. She followed it to the door of the hospital, where +they let her come in and see him laid on a bed. Razumov's new-found relation +never shed a tear, but the officials had some difficulty in inducing her to go +away. The porter observed her lingering on the opposite pavement for a long +time. Suddenly, as though she had remembered something, she ran off. + +The ardent hater of all Finance ministers, the slave of Madame de S---, had +made up her mind to offer her resignation as lady companion to the Egeria of +Peter Ivanovitch. She had found work to do after her own heart. + +But hours before, while the thunderstorm still raged in the night, there had +been in the rooms of Julius Laspara a great sensation. The terrible Nikita, +coming in from the landing, uplifted his squeaky voice in horrible glee before +all the company-- + +"Razumov! Mr. Razumov! The wonderful Razumov! He shall never be any use as a +spy on any one. He won't talk, because he will never hear anything in his +life--not a thing! I have burst the drums of his ears for him. Oh, you may +trust me. I know the trick. Ha! Ha! Ha! I know the trick." + + +V + + +It was nearly a fortnight after her mother's funeral that I saw Natalia Haldin +for the last time. + +In those silent, sombre days the doors of the _appartement_ on the Boulevard +des Philosophes were closed to every one but myself. I believe I was of some +use, if only in this, that I alone was aware of the incredible part of the +situation. Miss Haldin nursed her mother alone to the last moment. If +Razumov's visit had anything to do with Mrs. Haldin's end (and I cannot help +thinking that it hastened it considerably), it is because the man, trusted +impulsively by the ill-fated Victor Haldin, had failed to gain the confidence +of Victor Haldin's mother. What tale, precisely, he told her cannot be +known--at any rate, I do not know it--but to me she seemed to die from the +shock of an ultimate disappointment borne in silence. She had not believed +him. Perhaps she could not longer believe any one, and consequently had +nothing to say to any one--not even to her daughter. I suspect that Miss +Haldin lived the heaviest hours of her life by that silent death-bed. I +confess I was angry with the broken-hearted old woman passing away in the +obstinacy of her mute distrust of her daughter. + +When it was all over I stood aside. Miss Haldin had her compatriots round her +then. A great number of them attended the funeral. I was there too, but +afterwards managed to keep away from Miss Haldin, till I received a short note +rewarding my self-denial. "It is as you would have it. I am going back to +Russia at once. My mind is made up. Come and see me." + +Verily, it was a reward of discretion. I went without delay to receive it. + The _appartement_ of the Boulevard des Philosophes presented the dreary signs +of impending abandonment. It looked desolate and as if already empty to my +eyes. + +Standing, we exchanged a few words about her health, mine, remarks as to some +people of the Russian colony, and then Natalia Haldin, establishing me on the +sofa, began to talk openly of her future work, of her plans. It was all to be +as I had wished it. And it was to be for life. We should never see each other +again. Never! + +I gathered this success to my breast. Natalia Haldin looked matured by her +open and secret experiences. With her arms folded she walked up and down the +whole length of the room, talking slowly, smooth-browed, with a resolute +profile. She gave me a new view of herself, and I marvelled at that something +grave and measured in her voice, in her movements, in her manner. It was the +perfection of collected independence. The strength of her nature had come to +surface because the obscure depths had been stirred. + +"We two can talk of it now," she observed, after a silence and stopping short +before me. "Have you been to inquire at the hospital lately?" + +"Yes, I have." And as she looked at me fixedly, "He will live, the doctors +say. But I thought that Tekla. . . ." + +"Tekla has not been near me for several days," explained Miss Haldin quickly. + "As I never offered to go to the hospital with her, she thinks that I have no +heart. She is disillusioned about me." + +And Miss Haldin smiled faintly. + +"Yes. She sits with him as long and as often as they will let her," I said. + "She says she must never abandon him--never as long as she lives. He'll need +somebody--a hopeless cripple, and stone deaf with that." + +"Stone deaf? I didn't know," murmured Natalia Haldin. + +"He is. It seems strange. I am told there were no apparent injuries to the +head. They say, too, that it is not very likely that he will live so very long +for Tekla to take care of him." + +Miss Haldin shook her head. + +"While there are travellers ready to fall by the way our Tekla shall never be +idle. She is a good Samaritan by an irresistible vocation. The revolutionists +didn't understand her. Fancy a devoted creature like that being employed to +carry about documents sewn in her dress, or made to write from dictation." + +"There is not much perspicacity in the world." + +No sooner uttered, I regretted that observation. Natalia Haldin, looking me +straight in the face, assented by a slight movement of her head. She was not +offended, but turning away began to pace the room again. To my western eyes +she seemed to be getting farther and farther from me, quite beyond my reach +now, but undiminished in the increasing distance. I remained silent as though +it were hopeless to raise my voice. The sound of hers, so close to me, made me +start a little. + +"Tekla saw him picked up after the accident. The good soul never explained to +me really how it came about. She affirms that there was some understanding +between them--some sort of compact--that in any sore need, in misfortune, or +difficulty, or pain, he was to come to her." + +"Was there?" I said. "It is lucky for him that there was, then. He'll need +all the devotion of the good Samaritan." + +It was a fact that Tekla, looking out of her window at five in the morning, for +some reason or other, had beheld Razumov in the grounds of the Chateau Borel, +standing stockstill, bare-headed in the rain, at the foot of the terrace. She +had screamed out to him, by name, to know what was the matter. He never even +raised his head. By the time she had dressed herself sufficiently to run +downstairs he was gone. She started in pursuit, and rushing out into the road, +came almost directly upon the arrested tramcar and the small knot of people +picking up Razumov. That much Tekla had told me herself one afternoon we +happened to meet at the door of the hospital, and without any kind of comment. + But I did not want to meditate very long on the inwardness of this peculiar +episode. + +"Yes, Natalia Victorovna, he shall need somebody when they dismiss him, on +crutches and stone deaf from the hospital. But I do not think that when he +rushed like an escaped madman into the grounds of the Chateau Borel it was to +seek the help of that good Tekla." + +"No," said Natalia, stopping short before me, "perhaps not." She sat down and +leaned her head on her hand thoughtfully. The silence lasted for several +minutes. During that time I remembered the evening of his atrocious +confession--the plaint she seemed to have hardly enough life left in her to +utter, "It is impossible to be more unhappy. . . ." The recollection would +have given me a shudder if I had not been lost in wonder at her force and her +tranquillity. There was no longer any Natalia Haldin, because she had +completely ceased to think of herself. It was a great victory, a +characteristically Russian exploit in self-suppression. + +She recalled me to myself by getting up suddenly like a person who has come to +a decision. She walked to the writing-table, now stripped of all the small +objects associated with her by daily use--a mere piece of dead furniture; but +it contained something living, still, since she took from a recess a flat +parcel which she brought to me. + +"It's a book," she said rather abruptly. "It was sent to me wrapped up in my +veil. I told you nothing at the time, but now I've decided to leave it with +you. I have the right to do that. It was sent to me. It is mine. You may +preserve it, or destroy it after you have read it. And while you read it, +please remember that I was defenceless. And that he. . . ." + +"Defenceless!" I repeated, surprised, looking hard at her. + +"You'll find the very word written there," she whispered. "Well, it's true! I +_was_ defenceless--but perhaps you were able to see that for yourself." Her +face coloured, then went deadly pale. "In justice to the man, I want you to +remember that I was. Oh, I was, I was!" + +I rose, a little shakily. + +" I am not likely to forget anything you say at this our last parting." + +Her hand fell into mine. + +"It's difficult to believe that it must be good-bye with us." + +She returned my pressure and our hands separated. + +"Yes. I am leaving here to-morrow. My eyes are open at last and my hands are +free now. As for the rest--which of us can fail to hear the stifled cry of our +great distress? It may be nothing to the world." + +"The world is more conscious of your discordant voices," I said. "It is the +way of the world." + +"Yes." She bowed her head in assent, and hesitated for a moment. "I must own +to you that I shall never give up looking forward to the day when all discord +shall be silenced. Try to imagine its dawn! The tempest of blows and of +execrations is over; all is still; the new sun is rising, and the weary men +united at last, taking count in their conscience of the ended contest, feel +saddened by their victory, because so many ideas have perished for the triumph +of one, so many beliefs have abandoned them without support. They feel alone +on the earth and gather close together. Yes, there must be many bitter hours! + But at last the anguish of hearts shall be extinguished in love." + +And on this last word of her wisdom, a word so sweet, so bitter, so cruel +sometimes, I said good-bye to Natalia Haldin. It is hard to think I shall +never look any more into the trustful eyes of that girl--wedded to an +invincible belief in the advent of loving concord springing like a heavenly +flower from the soil of men's earth, soaked in blood, torn by struggles, +watered with tears. + + + +It must be understood that at that time I didn't know anything of Mr. Razumov's +confession to the assembled revolutionists. Natalia Haldin might have guessed +what was the "one thing more" which remained for him to do; but this my western +eyes had failed to see. + +Tekla, the ex-lady companion of Madame de S---, haunted his bedside at the +hospital. We met once or twice at the door of that establishment, but on these +occasions she was not communicative. She gave me news of Mr. Razumov as +concisely as possible. He was making a slow recovery, but would remain a +hopeless cripple all his life. Personally, I never went near him: I never saw +him again, after the awful evening when I stood by, a watchful but ignored +spectator of his scene with Miss Haldin. He was in due course discharged from +the hospital, and his "relative"--so I was told--had carried him off somewhere. + +My information was completed nearly two years later. The opportunity, +certainly, was not of my seeking; it was quite accidentally that I met a +much-trusted woman revolutionist at the house of a distinguished Russian +gentleman of liberal convictions, who came to live in Geneva for a time. + +He was a quite different sort of celebrity from Peter Ivanovitch--a dark-haired +man with kind eyes, high-shouldered, courteous, and with something hushed and +circumspect in his manner. He approached me, choosing the moment when there +was no one near, followed by a grey-haired, alert lady in a crimson blouse. + +"Our Sophia Antonovna wishes to be made known to you," he addressed me, in his +guarded voice. "And so I leave you two to have a talk together." + +"I would never have intruded myself upon your notice," the grey-haired lady +began at once, "if I had not been charged with a message for you." + +It was a message of a few friendly words from Natalia Haldin. Sophia Antonovna +had just returned from a secret excursion into Russia, and had seen Miss +Haldin. She lived in a town "in the centre," sharing her compassionate labours +between the horrors of overcrowded jails, and the heartrending misery of +bereaved homes. She did not spare herself in good service, Sophia Antonovna +assured me. + +"She has a faithful soul, an undaunted spirit and an indefatigable body," the +woman revolutionist summed it all up, with a touch of enthusiasm. + +A conversation thus engaged was not likely to drop from want of interest on my +side. We went to sit apart in a corner where no one interrupted us. In the +course of our talk about Miss Haldin, Sophia Antonovna remarked suddenly-- + +"I suppose you remember seeing me before? That evening when Natalia came to +ask Peter Ivanovitch for the address of a certain Razumov, that young man who. +. . ." + +"I remember perfectly," I said. When Sophia Antonovna learned that I had in my +possession that young man's journal given me by Miss Haldin she became +intensely interested. She did not conceal her curiosity to see the document. + +I offered to show it to her, and she at once volunteered to call on me next day +for that purpose. + +She turned over the pages greedily for an hour or more, and then handed me the +book with a faint sigh. While moving about Russia, she had seen Razumov too. + He lived, not "in the centre," but "in the south." She described to me a +little two-roomed wooden house, in the suburb of some very small town, hiding +within the high plank-fence of a yard overgrown with nettles. He was crippled, +ill, getting weaker every day, and Tekla the Samaritan tended him unweariedly +with the pure joy of unselfish devotion. There was nothing in that task to +become disillusioned about. + +I did not hide from Sophia Antonovna my surprise that she should have visited +Mr. Razumov. I did not even understand the motive. But she informed me that +she was not the only one. + +"Some of _us_ always go to see him when passing through. He is intelligent. + We has ideas. . . . He talks well, too." + +Presently I heard for the first time of Razumov's public confession in +Laspara's house. Sophia Antonovna gave me a detailed relation of what had +occurred there. Razumov himself had told her all about it, most minutely. + +Then, looking hard at me with her brilliant black eyes-- + +"There are evil moments in every life. A false suggestion enters one's brain, +and then fear is born--fear of oneself, fear for oneself. Or else a false +courage--who knows? Well, call it what you like ; but tell me, how many of +them would deliver themselves up deliberately to perdition (as he himself says +in that book) rather than go on living, secretly debased in their own eyes? + How many? . . . And please mark this--he was safe when he did it. It was +just when he believed himself safe and more--infinitely more--when the +possibility of being loved by that admirable girl first dawned upon him, that +he discovered that his bitterest railings, the worst wickedness, the devil work +of his hate and pride, could never cover up the ignominy of the existence +before him. There's character in such a discovery." + +I accepted her conclusion in silence. Who would care to question the grounds +of forgiveness or compassion? However, it appeared later on, that there was +some compunction, too, in the charity extended by the revolutionary world to +Razumov the betrayer. Sophia Antonovna continued uneasily-- + +"And then, you know, he was the victim of an outrage. It was not authorized. + Nothing was decided as to what was to be done with him. He had confessed +voluntarily. And that Nikita who burst the drums of his ears purposely, out on +the landing, you know, as if carried away by indignation--well, he has turned +out to be a scoundrel of the worst kind--a traitor himself, a betrayer--a spy! + Razumov told me he had charged him with it by a sort of inspiration. . . ." + +"I had a glimpse of that brute," I said. "How any of you could have been +deceived for half a day passes my comprehension!" + +She interrupted me. + +"There! There! Don't talk of it. The first time I saw him, I, too, was +appalled. They cried me down. We were always telling each other, 'Oh! you +mustn't mind his appearance.' And then he was always ready to kill. There was +no doubt of it. He killed--yes! in both camps. The fiend. . . ." + +Then Sophia Antonovna, after mastering the angry trembling of her lips, told me +a very queer tale. It went that Councillor Mikulin, travelling in Germany +(shortly after Razumov's disappearance from Geneva), happened to meet Peter +Ivanovitch in a railway carriage. Being alone in the compartment, these two +talked together half the night, and it was then that Mikulin the Police Chief +gave a hint to the Arch-Revolutionist as to the true character of the +arch-slayer of gendarmes. It looks as though Mikulin had wanted to get rid of +that particular agent of his own! He might have grown tired of him, or +frightened of him. It must also be said that Mikulin had inherited the +sinister Nikita from his predecessor in office. + +And this story, too, I received without comment in my character of a mute +witness of things Russian, unrolling their Eastern logic under my Western eyes. + But I permitted myself a question-- + +"Tell me, please, Sophia Antonovna, did Madame de S--- leave all her fortune to +Peter Ivanovitch?" + +"Not a bit of it." The woman revolutionist shrugged her shoulders in disgust. + "She died without making a will. A lot of nephews and nieces came down from +St. Petersburg, like a flock of vultures, and fought for her money amongst +themselves. All beastly Kammerherrs and Maids of Honour--abominable court +flunkeys. Tfui!" + +"One does not hear much of Peter Ivanovitch now," I remarked, after a pause. + +"Peter Ivanovitch," said Sophia Antonovna gravely, "has united himself to a +peasant girl." + +I was truly astonished. + +"What! On the Riviera?" + +"What nonsense! Of course not." + +Sophia Antonovna's tone was slightly tart. + +"Is he, then, living actually in Russia? It's a tremendous risk--isn't it?" I +cried. "And all for the sake of a peasant girl. Don't you think it's very +wrong of him?" + +Sophia Antonovna preserved a mysterious silence +for a while, then made a statement. "He just +simply adores her." + +"Does he? Well, then, I hope that she won't +hesitate to beat him." + +Sophia Antonovna got up and wished me good-bye, +as though she had not heard a word of my impious +hope; but, in the very doorway, where I attended +her, she turned round for an instant, and +declared in a firm voice-- + +"Peter Ivanovitch is an inspired man." + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Under Western Eyes, Joseph Conrad + |