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, comely4 without grace, and hospitable5 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 elevation6, narrowed suddenly by the ugly, dark wall of the Jura where, here and there, lingered yet a few miserable8 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 incapable9, it was stealthiness, Her sincerity10 was expressed in the very rhythm of her walk. It was I who was looking at her covertly11 — 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 conspiracies12. I use the word aristocratic, for want of a better term. The Chateau13 Borel, embowered in the trees and thickets14 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 worthy16 to be watched, was something quite unlike the autocracy17 in mystic vestments, engendered18 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 persecuted19. 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 abode20 for hatching superior plots — whether serious or futile21. 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 disarmed22 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 delicacy23. 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 ascertain24 the degree of my anxiety or the number of my years. My physiognomy has never been expressive26, I believe, and as to my years I am not ancient enough as yet to be strikingly decrepit27. I have no long beard like the good hermit28 of a romantic ballad29; my footsteps are not tottering30, my aspect not that of a slow, venerable sage31. Those picturesque32 advantages are not mine. I am old, alas33, 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, retired35 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 gravel36 drive, round a large, coarse grass- plot, with plenty of time to observe the degradation37 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 moss38 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 solitude39, 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 utterly40 deserted41 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 invincible43 repugnance44 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 impersonal46, 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 intimidating47 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 rustle48 of dress attracted her attention. She looked down and saw a woman crossing the hall, having issued apparently49 through one of the many doors. Her face was averted50, 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 lateral51 wave above the dry, furrowed52 forehead. After a moment of dumb blinking, she suddenly squatted53 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 puckered54 her face into a momentary55 expression of sympathy. Her black silk blouse was old and even frayed56 in places; the black serge skirt was short and shabby. She continued to blink at close quarters, and her eyelashes and eyebrows57 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 dame15 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 ragged58 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 numb25 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, fixed59 on Miss Haldin’s face, betrayed no animation60 whatever. Miss Haldin, gathering61 that the lady who called herself a dame de compangnie was proud of having acted as secretary to Peter Ivanovitch, made an amiable62 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 bent63 her worn gaze upon the cat. “I don’t mind a bit. Animals have their rights; though, strictly64 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 perfectly65 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 discretion66, 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 villas67 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 jaws69 felt absolutely locked. In the moments when Peter Ivanovitch interrupted his dictation, and sometimes these intervals70 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 rattle71 Peter Ivanovitch might have noticed my distress72, 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 sinuously73 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 misers74 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 Ministry75 of Finances with no position at all. You may guess by this that our home was far from luxurious76, 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, awakened77 to the truth. I am indebted for my salvation78 to an old apple-woman, who had her stall under the gateway79 of the house we lived in. She had a kind wrinkled face, and the most friendly voice imaginable. One day, casually80, 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 vile81 office intrigues82, and of promotion84 and of salaries, and of courting the favour of the chiefs. The mere85 idea of marrying one day such another man as my father made me shudder86. I don’t mean that there was anyone wanting to marry me. There was not the slightest prospect87 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 grotesque88 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 frightful89 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 misery90 can be reached. Well, I plunged91 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 Ministries92 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 miserably93. The man was a young workman, a lithographer by trade, and he had got into trouble in connexion with that affair of temperance tracts94 — 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!”
Hatred95 and contempt hissed96 in her utterance97 of the word “finances,” but at the very moment she gently stroked the cat reposing98 in her arms. She even raised them slightly, and inclining her head rubbed her cheek against the fur of the animal, which received this caress99 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.
“Positively100 there is no chair down here to offer you,” she continued. “But if you prefer your own thoughts to my chatter101, 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 martyr102, a simple man,” said the dame de compangnie, with a faint sigh, and gazing through the open front door dreamily. She turned her misty103 brown eyes on Miss Haldin.
“I lived with him for four months. It was like a nightmare.”
As Miss Haldin looked at her inquisitively104 she began to describe the emaciated105 face of the man, his fleshless limbs, his destitution106. The room into which the apple-woman had led her was a tiny garret, a miserable den7 under the roof of a sordid107 house. The plaster fallen off the walls covered the floor, and when the door was opened a horrible tapestry108 of black cobwebs waved in the draught109. He had been liberated110 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 investigation111,” went on the dame de compagnie, “that they injured him internally. When they had done with him he was doomed112. He could do nothing for himself. I beheld113 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 jug114 in the room for the water to quench115 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 helping116 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 mangled117 body. Nothing I found to say could make him whole. When they let him out, he crept into that hole, and bore his remorse118 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 infinitely119 less killing120 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 dictate121, but at the same time there is a fascination122 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 murmur123, she turned to Miss Haldin.
“Yes, he died, but not, literally124 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 extremity125. 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 alleviated126 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 entrusted127 with a packet which I carried next my heart. The gendarmes128 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 reposed129 within her folded arms in lordly beatitude and sphinx- like meditation130.
“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 injustices131 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 inclination132 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 precisely133 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? Conspirators134 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 mused137 for a while in the doorway138.
“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 plunges139 me into an envious140 ecstasy141. Why should a man certain of immortality142 think of his life at all?”
She kept her back turned to Miss Haldin. Upstairs from behind a great dingy143 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 concealed144 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 kindly145.
“Would you please let me pass?” said Miss Haldin at last, touching146 lightly the shoulder of the dame de compagnie.
But the other, pressing the cat to her breast, did not budge147.
“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 confidential149 and mysterious in her tone. She passed through the door, with Miss Haldin following her, on to the terrace, and they descended150 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 villa34 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, conversing151 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 leisurely152 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 foretold153. The young man took off his hat, bowed and fell back, while Peter Ivanovitch advanced quicker, his black, thick arms extended heartily154, 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 hind42 leg stretched backwards155. 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 memorable156. I do not regret the waiting, but I see that the object of my call here can be attained157 without taking up Madame de S——‘s time.”
At this point I interrupted Miss Haldin. The above relation is founded on her narrative158, 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 disciple159 of the old apple-woman, the irreconcilable160 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 intimacy161 with Madame de S——. I had a positive abhorrence162 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 avaricious163, 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 incurred164 her animosity. I find it perfectly easy to believe that she had come to within an ace1 of being spirited away, for reasons of state, into some discreet165 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 sufficiently166 manifest by a telling phrase, a poetic167 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 assassination168 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 salon169. 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-tempered170, 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 innuendoes171 that the guilt172 of the act was not with the terrorists, but with a palace intrigue83. When I observed to my friend, the professor’s wife, that the life of Madame de S— — with its unofficial diplomacy173, its intrigues, lawsuits174, favours, disgrace, expulsions, its atmosphere of scandal, occultism, and charlatanism175, was more fit for the eighteenth century than for the conditions of our own time, she assented176 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 credible178 — for this is a Russian story for Western ears, which, as I have observed already, are not attuned179 to certain tones of cynicism and cruelty, of moral negation136, and even of moral distress already silenced at our end of Europe. And this I state as my excuse for having left Miss Haldin standing180, 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 condemn181 without appeal the fierceness of thwarted182 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 sinister183 conspirator135, but as a pure enthusiast184. 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, spoke185 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 vent45 to her indignation. Peter Ivanovitch directly he had got his answer from her had turned upon the dame de compagnie in a shameful186 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 feminist187 allowed himself to be abusive to a woman?” I asked.
“Oh, not that! It was something you have no conception of. It was an odious188 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 deign189 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 inanely190. “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 Baroness191 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 undoubtedly192 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 alluding193 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 harmonious194 charm of her whole person, its strength, its grace, its tranquil195 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 suffocated196 him physically197 with an emotional reaction of hate and dismay, as though her appearance had been a piece of accomplished198 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, placid199 glimpses of the lake. A moment of perfect privacy had been vouchsafed200 to them at this juncture201. 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 fatigue202, perhaps, or in a state of morbid203 exaltation after the long interview. Either would require their devoted204 ministrations. I could depict205 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 stout206 light grey legs. I confess to having looked upon these young people as the quarry207 of the “heroic fugitive208.” 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 solitary209 — 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 ardently210. “And if you had only known the heart from which that judgment211 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 unwilling212 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 resentment213 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 abruptly214 I behaved to him!” she cried remorsefully215.
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 fortitude216 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 affected217 by his want of comprehension. All she could say was: “You are Mr. Razumov.” A slight frown passed over his forehead. After a short, watchful218 pause, he made a little bow of assent177, 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 impulsively219, saying with an effort to restrain her emotion, “Can’t you guess who I am?” He did not take the proffered220 hand. He even recoiled221 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 manifestation222 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 savage223 — 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 sobs224, and when she managed at last to utter something, it was only her brother’s name — “Victor — Victor Haldin!” she gasped226 out, and again her voice failed her.
“Of course,” she commented to me, “this distressed227 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 brotherhood228 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 regained229 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 favourable230 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 dread231 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 alacrity232.
“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 prudent233 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 banality234, that their acquaintance will begin and go on in the exchange of generous indignations and of extreme sentiments, too poignant235, 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 nether236 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 mechanism237 of democratic institutions in a republic that could almost be held in the palm of ones hand. The man, colourlessly uncouth238, was drinking beer out of a glittering glass; the woman, rustic239 and placid, leaning back in the rough chair, gazed idly around.
There is little logic240 to be expected on this earth, not only in the matter of thought, but also of sentiment. I was surprised to discover myself displeased241 with that unknown young man. A week had gone by since they met. Was he callous242, 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 agitation243 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 justified244 in taking me for a person not to be trusted. An emotional, tearful girl is not a person to confide148 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 asunder245 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 allusion246 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 undone247. 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 supple248, 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 admiration249.
“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 vaguely250 down the broad walk — the hand she put out to me eluded251 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 gasp225 —
“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 faltering252 check in his gait, instantaneously overcome. Then he continued his approach, looking at us steadily253. 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 incipient254 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 favourably255 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 decided256 than in the generality of Russian faces; he had a line of the jaw68, a clean-shaven, sallow cheek; his nose was a ridge257, 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 — robust258 — 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 arid259 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 poised260 in the air, but soberly, with my feet on the ground and my mind trying to penetrate261 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 parched262, feverish263 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, hoarse264 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.”
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1
ace
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| n.A牌；发球得分；佼佼者；adj.杰出的 | |
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promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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elevation
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| n.高度；海拔；高地；上升；提高 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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8
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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10
sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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covertly
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| adv.偷偷摸摸地 | |
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conspiracies
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| n.阴谋，密谋( conspiracy的名词复数 ) | |
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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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15
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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16
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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17
autocracy
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| n.独裁政治，独裁政府 | |
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18
engendered
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| v.产生（某形势或状况），造成，引起( engender的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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19
persecuted
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| （尤指宗教或政治信仰的）迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 )； 烦扰，困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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20
abode
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| n.住处，住所 | |
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21
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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22
disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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23
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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24
ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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25
numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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27
decrepit
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| adj.衰老的，破旧的 | |
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28
hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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29
ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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30
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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31
sage
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| n.圣人，哲人；adj.贤明的，明智的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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33
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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villa
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| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
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35
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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37
degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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38
moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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39
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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40
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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41
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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42
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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43
invincible
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| adj.不可征服的，难以制服的 | |
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44
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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45
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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46
impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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47
intimidating
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| vt.恐吓，威胁( intimidate的现在分词) | |
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48
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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49
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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50
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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51
lateral
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| adj.侧面的，旁边的 | |
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52
furrowed
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| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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54
puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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56
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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57
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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58
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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59
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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60
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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61
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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62
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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63
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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64
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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66
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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67
villas
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| 别墅，公馆( villa的名词复数 )； （城郊）住宅 | |
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68
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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69
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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70
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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71
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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72
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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73
sinuously
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| 弯曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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74
misers
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| 守财奴，吝啬鬼( miser的名词复数 ) | |
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75
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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76
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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77
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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78
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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79
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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80
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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81
vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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82
intrigues
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| n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 )；神秘气氛；引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 )；激起…的好奇心 | |
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83
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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84
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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85
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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86
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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87
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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88
grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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89
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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90
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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91
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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92
ministries
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| （政府的）部( ministry的名词复数 )； 神职； 牧师职位； 神职任期 | |
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93
miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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94
tracts
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| 大片土地( tract的名词复数 )； 地带； （体内的）道； （尤指宣扬宗教、伦理或政治的）短文 | |
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95
hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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96
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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97
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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98
reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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99
caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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100
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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101
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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102
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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103
misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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104
inquisitively
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| 过分好奇地； 好问地 | |
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105
emaciated
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| adj.衰弱的，消瘦的 | |
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106
destitution
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| n.穷困，缺乏，贫穷 | |
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107
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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108
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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109
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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110
liberated
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| a.无拘束的，放纵的 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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112
doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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113
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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114
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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115
quench
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| vt.熄灭，扑灭；压制 | |
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116
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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117
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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118
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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119
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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120
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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121
dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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122
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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123
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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124
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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125
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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126
alleviated
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| 减轻，缓解，缓和( alleviate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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127
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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128
gendarmes
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| n.宪兵，警官( gendarme的名词复数 ) | |
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129
reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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130
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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131
injustices
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| 不公平( injustice的名词复数 )； 非正义； 待…不公正； 冤枉 | |
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132
inclination
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| n.倾斜；点头；弯腰；斜坡；倾度；倾向；爱好 | |
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133
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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134
conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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135
conspirator
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| n.阴谋者，谋叛者 | |
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136
negation
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| n.否定；否认 | |
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137
mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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138
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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139
plunges
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| n.跳进，投入vt.使投入，使插入，使陷入vi.投入，跳进，陷入v.颠簸( plunge的第三人称单数 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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140
envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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141
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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142
immortality
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| n.不死，不朽 | |
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143
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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144
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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145
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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146
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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147
budge
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| v.移动一点儿；改变立场 | |
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148
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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149
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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150
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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151
conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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152
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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153
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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154
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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155
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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156
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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157
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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158
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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159
disciple
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| n.信徒，门徒，追随者 | |
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160
irreconcilable
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| adj.（指人）难和解的，势不两立的 | |
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161
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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162
abhorrence
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| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
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163
avaricious
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| adj.贪婪的，贪心的 | |
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164
incurred
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| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
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165
discreet
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| adj.(言行)谨慎的；慎重的；有判断力的 | |
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166
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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167
poetic
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| adj.富有诗意的，有诗人气质的，善于抒情的 | |
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168
assassination
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| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
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169
salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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170
bad-tempered
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| adj.脾气坏的 | |
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171
innuendoes
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| n.影射的话( innuendo的名词复数 )；讽刺的话；含沙射影；暗讽 | |
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172
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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173
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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174
lawsuits
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| n.诉讼( lawsuit的名词复数 ) | |
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175
charlatanism
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| n.庸医术，庸医的行为 | |
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176
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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177
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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178
credible
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| adj.可信任的，可靠的 | |
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179
attuned
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| v.使协调( attune的过去式和过去分词 )；调音 | |
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180
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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181
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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182
thwarted
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| 阻挠( thwart的过去式和过去分词 )； 使受挫折； 挫败； 横过 | |
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183
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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184
enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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185
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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186
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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187
feminist
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| adj.主张男女平等的，女权主义的 | |
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188
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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189
deign
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| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
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190
inanely
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191
baroness
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| n.男爵夫人，女男爵 | |
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192
undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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193
alluding
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| 提及，暗指( allude的现在分词 ) | |
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194
harmonious
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| adj.和睦的，调和的，和谐的，协调的 | |
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195
tranquil
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| adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
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196
suffocated
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| （使某人）窒息而死( suffocate的过去式和过去分词 )； （将某人）闷死； 让人感觉闷热； 憋气 | |
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197
physically
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| adj.物质上，体格上，身体上，按自然规律 | |
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198
accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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199
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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200
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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201
juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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202
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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203
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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204
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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205
depict
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| vt.描画，描绘；描写，描述 | |
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207
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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208
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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209
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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210
ardently
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| adv.热心地，热烈地 | |
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211
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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212
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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213
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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214
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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215
remorsefully
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| adv.极为懊悔地 | |
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216
fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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217
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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218
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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219
impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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220
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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221
recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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222
manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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223
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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224
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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225
gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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226
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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227
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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228
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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229
regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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230
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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231
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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232
alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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233
prudent
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| adj.谨慎的，有远见的，精打细算的 | |
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234
banality
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| n.陈腐；平庸；陈词滥调 | |
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235
poignant
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| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
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236
nether
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| adj.下部的，下面的；n.阴间；下层社会 | |
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237
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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238
uncouth
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| adj.无教养的，粗鲁的 | |
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239
rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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240
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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241
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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242
callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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243
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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244
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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245
asunder
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| adj.分离的，化为碎片 | |
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246
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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faltering
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| 犹豫的，支吾的，蹒跚的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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favourably
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| adv. 善意地，赞成地 =favorably | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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arid
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| adj.干旱的；(土地)贫瘠的 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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