“Sit down. Draw your chair nearer me. There —”
He sat down. At close quarters the rouged6 cheekbones, the wrinkles, the fine lines on each side of the vivid lips, astounded7 him. He was being received graciously, with a smile which made him think of a grinning skull8.
“We have been hearing about you for some time.”
He did not know what to say, and murmured some disconnected words. The grinning skull effect vanished.
“And do you know that the general complaint is that you have shown yourself very reserved everywhere?”
Razumov remained silent for a time, thinking of his answer.
“I, don’t you see, am a man of action,” he said huskily, glancing upwards10.
Peter Ivanovitch stood in portentous11 expectant silence by the side of his chair. A slight feeling of nausea12 came over Razumov. What could be the relations of these two people to each other? She like a galvanized corpse13 out of some Hoffman’s Tale — he the preacher of feminist14 gospel for all the world, and a super- revolutionist besides! This ancient, painted mummy with unfathomable eyes, and this burly, bull-necked, deferential15. . .what was it? Witchcraft16, fascination17. . . . “It’s for her money,” he thought. “She has millions!”
The walls, the floor of the room were bare like a barn. The few pieces of furniture had been discovered in the garrets and dragged down into service without having been properly dusted, even. It was the refuse the banker’s widow had left behind her. The windows without curtains had an indigent19, sleepless20 look. In two of them the dirty yellowy-white blinds had been pulled down. All this spoke21, not of poverty, but of sordid22 penuriousness23.
The hoarse24 voice on the sofa uttered angrily-
“You are looking round, Kirylo Sidorovitch. I have been shamefully25 robbed, positively26 ruined.”
A rattling27 laugh, which seemed beyond her control, interrupted her for a moment.
“A slavish nature would find consolation28 in the fact that the principal robber was an exalted29 and almost a sacrosanct30 person — a Grand Duke, in fact. Do you understand, Mr. Razumov? A Grand Duke — No! You have no idea what thieves those people are! Downright thieves!”
Her bosom31 heaved, but her left arm remained rigidly32 extended along the back of the couch.
“You will only upset yourself,” breathed out a deep voice, which, to Razumov’s startled glance, seemed to proceed from under the steady spectacles of Peter Ivanovitch, rather than from his lips, which had hardly moved.
“What of hat? I say thieves! Voleurs! Voleurs!”
Razumov was quite confounded by this unexpected clamour, which had in it something of wailing33 and croaking34, and more than a suspicion of hysteria.
“Voleurs! Voleurs! Vol . . . .”
“No power on earth can rob you of your genius,” shouted Peter Ivanovitch in an overpowering bass35, but without stirring, without a gesture of any kind. A profound silence fell.
Razumov remained outwardly impassive. “What is the meaning of this performance?” he was asking himself. But with a preliminary sound of bumping outside some door behind him, the lady companion, in a threadbare black skirt and frayed36 blouse, came in rapidly, walking on her heels, and carrying in both hands a big Russian samovar, obviously too heavy for her. Razumov made an instinctive37 movement to help, which startled her so much that she nearly dropped her hissing38 burden. She managed, however, to land it on the table, and looked so frightened that Razumov hastened to sit down. She produced then, from an adjacent room, four glass tumblers, a teapot, and a sugar-basin, on a black iron tray.
The rasping voice asked from the sofa abruptly39 —
“Les gateaux? Have you remembered to bring the cakes?”
Peter Ivanovitch, without a word, marched out on to the landing, and returned instantly with a parcel wrapped up in white glazed40 paper, which he must have extracted from the interior of his hat. With imperturbable41 gravity he undid42 the string and smoothed the paper open on a part of the table within reach of Madame de S——‘s hand. The lady companion poured out the tea, then retired43 into a distant corner out of everybody’s sight. From time to time Madame de S—— extended a claw-like hand, glittering with costly44 rings, towards the paper of cakes, took up one and devoured45 it, displaying her big false teeth ghoulishly. Meantime she talked in a hoarse tone of the political situation in the Balkans. She built great hopes on some complication in the peninsula for arousing a great movement of national indignation in Russia against “these thieves — thieves thieves.”
“You will only upset yourself,” Peter Ivanovitch interposed, raising his glassy gaze. He smoked cigarettes and drank tea in silence, continuously. When he had finished a glass, he flourished his hand above his shoulder. At that signal the lady companion, ensconced in her corner, with round eyes like a watchful46 animal, would dart47 out to the table and pour him out another tumblerful.
Razumov looked at her once or twice. She was anxious, tremulous, though neither Madame de S—— nor Peter Ivanovitch paid the slightest attention to her. “What have they done between them to that forlorn creature?” Razumov asked himself. “Have they terrified her out of her senses with ghosts, or simply have they only been beating her?” When she gave him his second glass of tea, he noticed that her lips trembled in the manner of a scared person about to burst into speech. But of course she said nothing, and retired into her corner, as if hugging to herself the smile of thanks he gave her.
“She may be worth cultivating,” thought Razumov suddenly.
He was calming down, getting hold of the actuality into which he had been thrown — for the first time perhaps since Victor Haldin had entered his room. . .and had gone out again. He was distinctly aware of being the object of the famous — or notorious — Madame de S——‘s ghastly graciousness.
Madame de S—— was pleased to discover that this young man was different from the other types of revolutionist members of committees, secret emissaries, vulgar and unmannerly fugitive48 professors, rough students, ex-cobblers with apostolic faces, consumptive and ragged18 enthusiasts49, Hebrew youths, common fellows of all sorts that used to come and go around Peter Ivanovitch — fanatics50, pedants51, proletarians all. It was pleasant to talk to this young man of notably52 good appearance — for Madame de S—— was not always in a mystical state of mind. Razumov’s taciturnity only excited her to a quicker, more voluble utterance53. It still dealt with the Balkans. She knew all the statesmen of that region, Turks, Bulgarians, Montenegrins, Roumanians, Greeks, Armenians, and nondescripts, young and old, the living and the dead. With some money an intrigue54 could be started which would set the Peninsula in a blaze and outrage55 the sentiment of the Russian people. A cry of abandoned brothers could be raised, and then, with the nation seething56 with indignation, a couple of regiments57 or so would be enough to begin a military revolution in St. Petersburg and make an end of these thieves . . . .
“Apparently I’ve got only to sit still and listen,” the silent Razumov thought to himself. “As to that hairy and obscene brute58” (in such terms did Mr. Razumov refer mentally to the popular expounder59 of a feministic conception of social state), “as to him, for all his cunning he too shall speak out some day.”
Razumov ceased to think for a moment. Then a sombre-toned reflection formulated60 itself in his mind, ironical61 and bitter. “I have the gift of inspiring confidence.” He heard himself laughing aloud. It was like a goad62 to the painted, shiny-eyed harridan63 on the sofa.
“You may well laugh!” she cried hoarsely64. “What else can one do! Perfect swindlers — and what base swindlers at that! Cheap Germans — Holstein- Gottorps! Though, indeed, it’s hardly safe to say who and what they are. A family that counts a creature like Catherine the Great in its ancestry65 — you understand!”
“You are only upsetting yourself,” said Peter Ivanovitch, patiently but in a firm tone. This admonition had its usual effect on the Egeria. She dropped her thick, discoloured eyelids66 and changed her position on the sofa. All her angular and lifeless movements seemed completely automatic now that her eyes were closed. Presently she opened them very full. Peter Ivanovitch drank tea steadily67, without haste.
“Well, I declare!” She addressed Razumov directly. “The people who have seen you on your way here are right. You are very reserved. You haven’t said twenty words altogether since you came in. You let nothing of your thoughts be seen in your face either.”
“I have been listening, Madame,” said Razumov, using French for the first time, hesitatingly, not being certain of his accent. But it seemed to produce an excellent impression. Madame de S- — looked meaningly into Peter Ivanovitch’s spectacles, as if to convey her conviction of this young man’s merit. She even nodded the least bit in his direction, and Razumov heard her murmur9 under her breath the words, “ Later on in the diplomatic service,” which could not but refer to the favourable68 impression he had made. The fantastic absurdity69 of it revolted him because it seemed to outrage his ruined hopes with the vision of a mock-career. Peter Ivanovitch, impassive as though he were deaf, drank some more tea. Razumov felt that he must say something.
“Yes,” he began deliberately70, as if uttering a meditated71 opinion. “Clearly. Even in planning a purely72 military revolution the temper of the people should be taken into account.”
“You have understood me perfectly73. The discontent should be spiritualized. That is what the ordinary heads of revolutionary committees will not understand. They aren’t capable of it. For instance, Mordatiev was in Geneva last month. Peter Ivanovitch brought him here. You know Mordatiev? Well, yes — you have heard of him. They call him an eagle — a hero! He has never done half as much as you have. Never attempted — not half . . . .”
Madame de S—— agitated74 herself angularly on the sofa.
“We, of course, talked to him. And do you know what he said to me? ‘What have we to do with Balkan intrigues75? We must simply extirpate76 the scoundrels.’ Extirpate is all very well — but what then? The imbecile! I screamed at him, ‘But you must spiritualize — don’t you understand? — spiritualize the discontent.’. . .”
She felt nervously77 in her pocket for a handkerchief; she pressed it to her lips.
“Spiritualize?” said Razumov interrogatively, watching her heaving breast. The long ends of an old black lace scarf she wore over her head slipped off her shoulders and hung down on each side of her ghastly rosy78 cheeks.
“An odious79 creature,” she burst out again. “Imagine a man who takes five lumps of sugar in his tea. . . . Yes, I said spiritualize! How else can you make discontent effective and universal?”
“Listen to this, young man.” Peter Ivanovitch made himself heard solemnly. “Effective and universal.”
Razumov looked at him suspiciously.
“Some say hunger will do that,” he remarked.
“Yes. I know. Our people are starving in heaps. But you can’t make famine universal. And it is not despair that we want to create. There is no moral support to be got out of that. It is indignation . . . .”
Madame de S—— let her thin, extended arm sink on her knees.
“I am not a Mordatiev,” began Razumov.
“Bien sur!” murmured Madame de S——.
“Though I too am ready to say extirpate, extirpate! But in my ignorance of political work, permit me to ask: A Balkan — well — intrigue, wouldn’t that take a very long time?”
Peter Ivanovitch got up and moved off quietly, to stand with his face to the window. Razumov heard a door close; he turned his head and perceived that the lady companion had scuttled80 out of the room.
“In matters of politics I am a supernaturalist.” Madame de S—— broke the silence harshly.
Peter Ivanovitch moved away from the window and struck Razumov lightly on the shoulder. This was a signal for leaving, but at the same time he addressed Madame de S—— in a peculiar81 reminding tone —
“Eleanor!”
Whatever it meant, she did not seem to hear him. She leaned back in the corner of the sofa like a wooden figure. The immovable peevishness82 of the face, framed in the limp, rusty83 lace, had a character of cruelty.
“As to extirpating,” she croaked84 at the attentive85 Razumov, “there is only one class in Russia which must be extirpated86. Only one. And that class consists of only one family. You understand me? That one family must be extirpated.”
Her rigidity was frightful87, like the rigor88 of a corpse galvanized into harsh speech and glittering stare by the force of murderous hate. The sight fascinated Razumov — yet he felt more self-possessed than at any other time since he had entered this weirdly89 bare room. He was interested. But the great feminist by his side again uttered his appeal —
“Eleanor!”
She disregarded it. Her carmine90 lips vaticinated with an extraordinary rapidity. The liberating91 spirit would use arms before which rivers would part like Jordan, and ramparts fall down like the walls of Jericho. The deliverance from bondage92 would be effected by plagues and by signs, by wonders and by war. The women . . . .
“Eleanor!”
She ceased; she had heard him at last. She pressed her hand to her forehead.
“What is it? Ah yes! That girl — the sister of . . . .”
It was Miss Haldin that she meant. That young girl and her mother had been leading a very retired life. They were provincial93 ladies — were they not? The mother had been very beautiful — traces were left yet. Peter Ivanovitch, when he called there for the first time, was greatly struck. . . . But the cold way they received him was really surprising.
“He is one of our national glories,” Madams de S- — cried out, with sudden vehemence94. “All the world listens to him.”
“I don’t know these ladies,” said Razumov loudly rising from his chair.
“What are you saying, Kirylo Sidorovitch? I understand that she was talking to you here, in the garden, the other day.”
“Yes, in the garden,” said Razumov gloomily. Then, with an effort, “She made herself known to me.”
“And then ran away from us all,” Madame de S—— continued, with ghastly vivacity95. “After coming to the very door! What a peculiar proceeding96! Well, I have been a shy little provincial girl at one time. Yes, Razumov” (she fell into this familiarity intentionally97, with an appalling98 grimace99 of graciousness. Razumov gave a perceptible start), “yes, that’s my origin. A simple provincial family
“You are a marvel,” Peter Ivanovich uttered in his
But it was to Razumov that she gave her death’s- head smile. Her tone was quite imperious.
“You must bring the wild young thing here. She is wanted. I reckon upon your success — mind!”
“She is not a wild young thing,” muttered Razumov, in a surly voice.
“Well, then — that’s all the same. She may be one of these young conceited100 democrats101. Do you know what I think? I think she is very much like you in character. There is a smouldering fire of scorn in you. You are darkly self- sufficient, but I can see your very soul.”
Her shiny eyes had a dry, intense stare, which, missing Razumov, gave him an absurd notion that she was looking at something which was visible to her behind him. He cursed himself for an impressionable fool, and asked with forced calmness —
“What is it you see? Anything resembling me?”
She moved her rigidly set face from left to right, negatively.
“Some sort of phantom102 in my image?” pursued Razumov slowly. “For, I suppose, a soul when it is seen is just that. A vain thing. There are phantoms103 of the living as well as of the dead.”
The tenseness of Madame de S——‘s stare had relaxed, and now she looked at Razumov in a silence that became disconcerting.
“I myself have had an experience,” he stammered104 out, as if compelled. “ I’ve seen a phantom once.” The unnaturally106 red lips moved to frame a question harshly.
“Of a dead person?”
“No. Living.”
“A friend?”
“No.”
“An enemy?”
“I hated him.”
“Ah! It was not a woman, then?”
“A woman!” repeated Razumov, his eyes looking straight into the eyes of Madame de S——. “Why should it have been a woman? And why this conclusion? Why should I not have been able to hate a woman?”
As a matter of fact, the idea of hating a woman was new to him. At that moment he hated Madame de S——. But it was not exactly hate. It was more like the abhorrence107 that may be caused by a wooden or plaster figure of a repulsive108 kind. She moved no more than if she were such a figure; even her eyes, whose unwinking stare plunged109 into his own, though shining, were lifeless, as though they were as artificial as her teeth. For the first time Razumov became aware of a faint perfume, but faint as it was it nauseated110 him exceedingly. Again Peter Ivanovitch tapped him slightly on the shoulder. Thereupon he bowed, and was about to turn away when he received the unexpected favour of a bony, inanimate hand extended to him, with the two words in hoarse French —
“Au revoir!”
He bowed over the skeleton hand and left the room, escorted by the great man, who made him go out first. The voice from the sofa cried after them-
“You remain here, Pierre.”
“Certainly, ma chere amie.”
But he left the room with Razumov, shutting the door behind him. The landing was prolonged into a bare corridor, right and left, desolate111 perspectives of white and gold decoration without a strip of carpet. The very light, pouring through a large window at the end, seemed dusty; and a solitary112 speck113 reposing114 on the balustrade of white marble — the silk top-hat of the great feminist — asserted itself extremely, black and glossy115 in all that crude whiteness.
Peter Ivanovitch escorted the visitor without opening his lips. Even when they had reached the head of the stairs Peter Ivanovitch did not break the silence. Razumov’s impulse to continue down the flight and out of the house without as much as a nod abandoned him suddenly. He stopped on the first step and leaned his back against the wall. Below him the great hall with its chequered floor of black and white seemed absurdly large and like some public place where a great power of resonance116 awaits the provocation117 of footfalls and voices. As if afraid of awakening118 the loud echoes of that empty house, Razumov adopted a low tone.
“I really have no mind to turn into a dilettante119 spiritualist.”
Peter Ivanovitch shook his head slightly, very serious.
“Or spend my time in spiritual ecstasies120 or sublime121 meditations122 upon the gospel of feminism,” continued Razumov. “I made my way here for my share of action — action, most respected Peter Ivanovitch! It was not the great European writer who attracted me, here, to this odious town of liberty. It was somebody much greater. It was the idea of the chief which attracted me. There are starving young men in Russia who believe in you so much that it seems the only thing that keeps them alive in their misery123. Think of that, Peter Ivanovitch! No! But only think of that!”
The great man, thus entreated124, perfectly motionless and silent, was the very image of patient, placid125 respectability.
“Of course I don’t speak of the people. They are brutes126,” added Razumov, in the same subdued127 but forcible tone. At this, a protesting murmur issued from the “heroic fugitive’s” beard. A murmur of authority.
“Say — children.”
“No! Brutes!” Razumov insisted bluntly.
“But they are sound, they are innocent,” the great man pleaded in a whisper.
“As far as that goes, a brute is sound enough.” Razumov raised his voice at last. “And you can’t deny the natural innocence128 of a brute. But what’s the use of disputing about names? You just try to give these children the power and stature129 of men and see what they will be like. You just give it to them and see. . . . But never mind. I tell you, Peter Ivanovitch, that half a dozen young men do not come together nowadays in a shabby student’s room without your name being whispered, not as a leader of thought, but as a centre of revolutionary energies — the centre of action. What else has drawn130 me near you, do you think? It is not what all the world knows of you, surely. It’s precisely131 what the world at large does not know. I was irresistibly132 drawn-let us say impelled133, yes, impelled; or, rather, compelled, driven — driven,’’ repented134 Razumov loudly, and ceased, as if startled by the hollow reverberation135 of the word “driven” along two bare corridors and in the great empty hall.
Peter Ivanovitch did not seem startled in the least. The young man could not control a dry, uneasy laugh. The great revolutionist remained unmoved with an effect of commonplace, homely136 superiority.
“Curse him,” said Razumov to himself, “he is waiting behind his spectacles for me to give myself away.” Then aloud, with a satanic enjoyment137 of the scorn prompting him to play with the greatness of the great man —
“Ah, Peter Ivanovitch, if you only knew the force which drew — no, which drove me towards you! The irresistible138 force.”
He did not feel any desire to laugh now. This time Peter Ivanovitch moved his head sideways, knowingly, as much as to say, “Don’t I?” This expressive139 movement was almost imperceptible. Razumov went on in secret derision —
“All these days you have been trying to read me, Peter Ivanovitch. That is natural. I have perceived it and I have been frank. Perhaps you may think I have not been very expansive? But with a man like you it was not needed; it would have looked like an impertinence, perhaps. And besides, we Russians are prone140 to talk too much as a rule. I have always felt that. And yet, as a nation, we are dumb. I assure you that I am not likely to talk to you so much again — ha! ha! —”
Razumov, still keeping on the lower step, came a little nearer to the great man.
“You have been condescending141 enough. I quite understood it was to lead me on. You must render me the justice that I have not tried to please. I have been impelled, compelled, or rather sent — let us say sent — towards you for a work that no one but myself can do. You would call it a harmless delusion142: a ridiculous delusion at which you don’t even smile. It is absurd of me to talk like this, yet some day you shall remember these words, I hope. Enough of this. Here I stand before you-confessed! But one thing more I must add to complete it: a mere105 blind tool I can never consent to be.”
Whatever acknowledgment Razumov was prepared for, he was not prepared to have both his hands seized in the great man’s grasp. The swiftness of the movement was aggressive enough to startle. The burly feminist could not have been quicker had his purpose been to jerk Razumov treacherously143 up on the landing and bundle him behind one of the numerous closed doors near by. This idea actually occurred to Razumov; his hands being released after a darkly eloquent144 squeeze, he smiled, with a beating heart, straight at the beard and the spectacles hiding that impenetrable man.
He thought to himself (it stands confessed in his handwriting), “I won’t move from here till he either speaks or turns away. This is a duel145.” Many seconds passed without a sign or sound.
“Yes, yes,” the great man said hurriedly, in subdued tones, as if the whole thing had been a stolen, breathless interview. “Exactly. Come to see us here in a few days. This must be gone into deeply — deeply, between you and me. Quite to the bottom. To the. . . . And, by the by, you must bring along Natalia Victorovna — you know, the Haldin girl . . . .
“Am I to take this as my first instruction from you?” inquired Razumov stiffly.
Peter Ivanovitch seemed perplexed146 by this new attitude.
“Ah! h’m! You are naturally the proper person — la personne indiquee. Every one shall be wanted presently. Every one.”
He bent147 down from the landing over Razumov, who had lowered his eyes.
“The moment of action approaches,’’ he murmured.
Razumov did not look up. He did not move till he heard the door of the drawing-room close behind the greatest of feminists148 returning to his painted Egeria. Then he walked down slowly into the hall. The door stood open, and the shadow of the house was lying aslant149 over the greatest part of the terrace. While crossing it slowly, he lifted his hat and wiped his damp forehead, expelling his breath with force to get rid of the last vestiges150 of the air he had been breathing inside. He looked at the palms of his hands, and rubbed them gently against his thighs151.
He felt, bizarre as it may seem, as though another self, an independent sharer of his mind, had been able to view his whole person very distinctly indeed. “This is curious,” he thought. After a while he formulated his opinion of it in the mental ejaculation: “Beastly!” This disgust vanished before a marked uneasiness. “This is an effect of nervous exhaustion,” he reflected with weary sagacity. “How am I to go on day after day if I have no more power of resistance — moral resistance?”
He followed the path at the foot of the terrace. “Moral resistance, moral resistance;” he kept on repeating these words mentally. Moral endurance. Yes, that was the necessity of the situation. An immense longing152 to make his way out of these grounds and to the other end of the town, of throwing himself on his bed and going to sleep for hours, swept everything clean out of his mind for a moment. “Is it possible that I am but a weak creature after all?” he asked himself, in sudden alarm. “Eh! What’s that?”
He gave a start as if awakened153 from a dream. He even swayed a little before recovering himself.
“Ah! You stole away from us quietly to walk about here,” he said.
The lady companion stood before him, but how she came there he had not the slightest idea. Her folded arms were closely cherishing the cat.
“I have been unconscious as I walked, it’s a positive fact,” said Razumov to himself in wonder. He raised his hat with marked civility.
The sallow woman blushed duskily. She had her invariably scared expression, as if somebody had just disclosed to her some terrible news. But she held her ground, Razumov noticed, without timidity. “She is incredibly shabby,” he thought. In the sunlight her black costume looked greenish, with here and there threadbare patches where the stuff seemed decomposed154 by age into a velvety155, black, furry156 state. Her very hair and eyebrows157 looked shabby. Razumov wondered whether she were sixty years old. Her figure, though, was young enough. He observed that she did not appear starved, but rather as if she had been fed on unwholesome scraps158 and leavings of plates.
Razumov smiled amiably159 and moved out of her way. She turned her head to keep her scared eyes on him.
“I know what you have been told in there,” she affirmed, without preliminaries. Her tone, in contrast with her manner, had an unexpectedly assured character which put Razumov at his ease.
“Do you? You must have heard all sorts of talk on many occasions in there.”
She varied160 her phrase, with the same incongruous effect of positiveness.
“I know to a certainty what you have been told to do.”
“Really?” Razumov shrugged161 his shoulders a little. He was about to pass on with a bow, when a sudden thought struck him. “Yes. To be sure! In your confidential162 position you are aware of many things,” he murmured, looking at the cat.
That animal got a momentary163 convulsive hug from the lady companion.
“Everything was disclosed to me a long time ago,” she said.
“Everything,” Razumov repeated absently.
“Peter Ivanovitch is an awful despot,” she jerked out.
Razumov went on studying the stripes on the grey fur of the cat.
“An iron will is an integral part of such a temperament164. How else could he be a leader? And I think that you are mistaken in —”
“There!” she cried. “ You tell me that I am mistaken. But I tell you all the same that he cares for no one.” She jerked her head up. “Don’t you bring that girl here. That’s what you have been told to do — to bring that girl here. Listen to me; you had better tie a stone round her neck and throw her into the lake.”
Razumov had a sensation of chill and gloom, as if a heavy cloud had passed over the sun.
“The girl?” he said. “What have I to do with her?”
“But you have been told to bring Nathalie Haldin here. Am I not right? Of course I am right. I was not in the room, but I know. I know Peter Ivanovitch sufficiently165 well. He is a great man. Great men are horrible. Well, that’s it. Have nothing to do with her. That’s the best you can do, unless you want her to become like me — disillusioned166! Disillusioned!”
“Like you,” repeated Razumov, glaring at her face, as devoid167 of all comeliness168 of feature and complexion169 as the most miserable170 beggar is of money. He smiled, still feeling chilly171: a peculiar sensation which annoyed him.” Disillusioned as to Peter Ivanovitch! Is that all you have lost?”
She declared, looking frightened, but with immense conviction, “Peter Ivanovitch stands for everything.” Then she added, in another tone, “Keep the girl away from this house.”
“And are you absolutely inciting172 me to disobey Peter Ivanovitch just because — because you are disillusioned?”
She began to blink.
“Directly I saw you for the first time I was comforted. You took your hat off to me. You looked as if one could trust you. Oh!”
She shrank before Razumov’s savage173 snarl174 of, “I have heard something like this before.”
She was so confounded that she could do nothing but blink for a long time.
“It was your humane175 manner,” she explained plaintively176. “I have been starving for, I won’t say kindness, but just for a little civility, for I don’t know how long. And now you are angry . . . .”
“But no, on the contrary,” he protested. “ I am very glad you trust me. It’s possible that later on I may . . . .”
“Yes, if you were to get ill,” she interrupted eagerly, “ or meet some bitter trouble, you would find I am not a useless fool. You have only to let me know. I will come to you. I will indeed. And I will stick to you. Misery and I are old acquaintances — but this life here is worse than starving.”
She paused anxiously, then in a voice for the first time sounding really timid, she added —
“Or if you were engaged in some dangerous work. Sometimes a humble177 companion — I would not want to know anything. I would follow you with joy. I could carry out orders. I have the courage.”
Razumov looked attentively178 at the scared round eyes, at the withered179, sallow, round cheeks. They were quivering about the corners of the mouth.
“She wants to escape from here,” he thought.
“Suppose I were to tell you that I am engaged in dangerous work?” he uttered slowly.
She pressed the cat to her threadbare bosom with a breathless exclamation180. “Ah!” Then not much above a whisper: “Under Peter Ivanovitch?”
“No, not under Peter Ivanovitch.”
He read admiration181 in her eyes, and made an effort to smile.
“Then — alone?”
He held up his closed hand with the index raised. “Like this finger,” he said.
She was trembling slightly. But it occurred to Razumov that they might have been observed from the house, and he became anxious to be gone. She blinked, raising up to him her puckered182 face, and seemed to beg mutely to be told something more, to be given a word of encouragement for her starving, grotesque183, and pathetic devotion.
“Can we be seen from the house?” asked Razumov confidentially184.
She answered, without showing the slightest surprise at the question —
“No, we can’t, on account of this end of the stables.” And she added, with an acuteness which surprised Razumov,” But anybody looking out of an upstairs window would know that you have not passed through the gates yet.”
“Who’s likely to spy out of the window?” queried185 Razumov. “Peter Ivanovitch?”
She nodded.
“Why should he trouble his head?”
“He expects somebody this afternoon.”
“You know the person?”
“There’s more than one.”
She had lowered her eyelids. Razumov looked at her curiously186.
“Of course. You hear everything they say.”
She murmured without any animosity —
“So do the tables and chairs.”
He understood that the bitterness accumulated in the heart of that helpless creature had got into her veins187, and, like some subtle poison, had decomposed her fidelity188 to that hateful pair. It was a great piece of luck for him, he reflected; because women are seldom venal189 after the manner of men, who can be bought for material considerations. She would be a good ally, though it was not likely that she was allowed to hear as much as the tables and chairs of the Chateau190 Borel. That could not be expected. But still. . . . And, at any rate, she could be made to talk.
When she looked up her eyes met the fixed191 stare of Razumov, who began to speak at once.
“Well, well, dear. . .but upon my word, I haven’t the pleasure of knowing your name yet. Isn’t it strange?”
For the first time she made a movement of the shoulders.
“Is it strange? No one is told my name. No one cares. No one talks to me, no one writes to me. My parents don’t even know if I’m alive. I have no use for a name, and I have almost forgotten it myself.”
Razumov murmured gravely, “Yes, but still. . .”
She went on much slower, with indifference192 —
“You may call me Tekla, then. My poor Andrei called me so. I was devoted193 to him. He lived in wretchedness and suffering, and died in misery. That is the lot of all us Russians, nameless Russians. There is nothing else for us, and no hope anywhere, unless. . .”
“Unless what?”
“Unless all these people with names are done away with,” she finished, blinking and pursing up her lips.
“It will be easier to call you Tekla, as you direct me,” said Razumov, “if you consent to call me Kirylo, when we are talking like this — quietly — only you and me.”
And he said to himself, “Here’s a being who must be terribly afraid of the world, else she would have run away from this situation before.” Then he reflected that the mere fact of leaving the great man abruptly would make her a suspect. She could expect no support or countenance194 from anyone. This revolutionist was not fit for an independent existence.
She moved with him a few steps, blinking and nursing the cat with a small balancing movement of her arms.
“Yes — only you and I. That’s how I was with my poor Andrei, only he was dying, killed by these official brutes — while you! You are strong. You kill the monsters. You have done a great deed. Peter Ivanovitch himself must consider you. Well — don’t forget me — especially if you are going back to work in Russia. I could follow you, carrying anything that was wanted — at a distance, you know. Or I could watch for hours at the corner of a street if necessary — in wet or snow — yes, I could — all day long. Or I could write for you dangerous documents, lists of names or instructions, so that in case of mischance the handwriting could not compromise you. And you need not be afraid if they were to catch me. I would know how to keep dumb. We women are not so easily daunted195 by pain. I heard Peter Ivanovitch say it is our blunt nerves or something. We can stand it better. And it’s true; I would just as soon bite my tongue out and throw it at them as not. What’s the good of speech to me? Who would ever want to hear what I could say? Ever since I closed the eyes of my poor Andrei I haven’t met a man who seemed to care for the sound of my voice. I should never have spoken to you if the very first time you appeared here you had not taken notice of me so nicely. I could not help speaking of you to that charming dear girl. Oh, the sweet creature! And strong! One can see that at once. If you have a heart don’t let her set her foot in here. Good-bye!”
Razumov caught her by the arm. Her emotion at being thus seized manifested itself by a short struggle, after which she stood still, not looking at him.
“But you can tell me,” he spoke in her ear, “why they — these people in that house there — are so anxious to get hold of her?”
She freed herself to turn upon him, as if made angry by the question.
“Don’t you understand that Peter Ivanovitch must direct, inspire, influence? It is the breath of his life. There can never be too many disciples196. He can’t bear thinking of anyone escaping him. And a woman, too! There is nothing to be done without women, he says. He has written it. He —”
The young man was staring at her passion when she broke off suddenly and ran away behind the stable.
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1
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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2
inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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3
rigidity
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| adj.钢性，坚硬 | |
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4
fathomless
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| a.深不可测的 | |
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5
portent
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| n.预兆；恶兆；怪事 | |
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6
rouged
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| 胭脂，口红( rouge的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7
astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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8
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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9
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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10
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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11
portentous
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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12
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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13
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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14
feminist
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| adj.主张男女平等的，女权主义的 | |
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15
deferential
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| adj. 敬意的，恭敬的 | |
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16
witchcraft
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| n.魔法，巫术 | |
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17
fascination
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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18
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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19
indigent
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| adj.贫穷的，贫困的 | |
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20
sleepless
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| adj.不睡眠的，睡不著的，不休息的 | |
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21
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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22
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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23
penuriousness
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24
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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25
shamefully
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| 可耻地； 丢脸地； 不体面地； 羞耻地 | |
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26
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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27
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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28
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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29
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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30
sacrosanct
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| adj.神圣不可侵犯的 | |
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31
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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32
rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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33
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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34
croaking
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的现在分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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35
bass
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| n.男低音(歌手)；低音乐器；低音大提琴 | |
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36
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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37
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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38
hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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39
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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40
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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41
imperturbable
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| adj.镇静的 | |
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42
Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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43
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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44
costly
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| adj.昂贵的，价值高的，豪华的 | |
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45
devoured
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| 吞没( devour的过去式和过去分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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46
watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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47
dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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48
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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49
enthusiasts
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| n.热心人，热衷者( enthusiast的名词复数 ) | |
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50
fanatics
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| 狂热者，入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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51
pedants
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| n.卖弄学问的人，学究，书呆子( pedant的名词复数 ) | |
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52
notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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53
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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54
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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55
outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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56
seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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57
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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58
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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59
expounder
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| 陈述者，说明者 | |
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60
formulated
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| v.构想出( formulate的过去式和过去分词 )；规划；确切地阐述；用公式表示 | |
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61
ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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62
goad
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| n.刺棒，刺痛物；激励；vt.激励，刺激 | |
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63
harridan
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| n.恶妇；丑老大婆 | |
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64
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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65
ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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66
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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67
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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68
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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69
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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70
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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71
meditated
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| 深思，沉思，冥想( meditate的过去式和过去分词 )； 内心策划，考虑 | |
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72
purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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73
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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74
agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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75
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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76
extirpate
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| v.除尽，灭绝 | |
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77
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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78
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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79
odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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80
scuttled
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| v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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81
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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82
peevishness
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| 脾气不好；爱发牢骚 | |
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83
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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84
croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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85
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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86
extirpated
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| v.消灭，灭绝( extirpate的过去式和过去分词 )；根除 | |
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87
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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88
rigor
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| n.严酷，严格，严厉 | |
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89
weirdly
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| 古怪地 | |
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90
carmine
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| n.深红色，洋红色 | |
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91
liberating
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| 解放，释放( liberate的现在分词 ) | |
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92
bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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93
provincial
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| adj.省的，地方的；n．外省人，乡下人 | |
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94
vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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95
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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96
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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97
intentionally
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| ad.故意地，有意地 | |
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98
appalling
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| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
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99
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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100
conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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101
democrats
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
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102
phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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103
phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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104
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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105
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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106
unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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107
abhorrence
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| n.憎恶；可憎恶的事 | |
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108
repulsive
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| adj.排斥的，使人反感的 | |
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109
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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110
nauseated
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| adj.作呕的，厌恶的v.使恶心，作呕( nauseate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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111
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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112
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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113
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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114
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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115
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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116
resonance
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| n.洪亮；共鸣；共振 | |
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117
provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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118
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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119
dilettante
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| n.半瓶醋，业余爱好者 | |
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120
ecstasies
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| 狂喜( ecstasy的名词复数 )； 出神； 入迷； 迷幻药 | |
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121
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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122
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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123
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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124
entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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125
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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126
brutes
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| 兽( brute的名词复数 )； 畜生； 残酷无情的人； 兽性 | |
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127
subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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128
innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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129
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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130
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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131
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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132
irresistibly
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| adv.无法抵抗地，不能自持地；极为诱惑人地 | |
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133
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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134
repented
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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135
reverberation
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| 反响； 回响； 反射； 反射物 | |
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136
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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137
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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138
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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139
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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140
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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141
condescending
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| adj.谦逊的,故意屈尊的 | |
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142
delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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143
treacherously
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| 背信弃义地； 背叛地； 靠不住地； 危险地 | |
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144
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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145
duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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146
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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147
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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148
feminists
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| n.男女平等主义者，女权扩张论者( feminist的名词复数 ) | |
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149
aslant
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| adv.倾斜地；adj.斜的 | |
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150
vestiges
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| 残余部分( vestige的名词复数 )； 遗迹； 痕迹； 毫不 | |
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151
thighs
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| n.股，大腿( thigh的名词复数 )；食用的鸡（等的）腿 | |
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152
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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153
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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154
decomposed
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| 已分解的，已腐烂的 | |
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155
velvety
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| adj. 像天鹅绒的, 轻软光滑的, 柔软的 | |
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156
furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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157
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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158
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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159
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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160
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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161
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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162
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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163
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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164
temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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165
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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166
disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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167
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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168
comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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169
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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170
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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171
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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172
inciting
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| 刺激的，煽动的 | |
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173
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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174
snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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175
humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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176
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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177
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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178
attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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179
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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180
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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181
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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182
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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183
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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184
confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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185
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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186
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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187
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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188
fidelity
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| n.忠诚，忠实；精确 | |
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189
venal
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| adj.唯利是图的，贪脏枉法的 | |
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190
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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191
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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192
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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193
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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194
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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195
daunted
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| 使（某人）气馁，威吓( daunt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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196
disciples
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| n.信徒( disciple的名词复数 )；门徒；耶稣的信徒；（尤指）耶稣十二门徒之一 | |
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