under western eyes-第12章

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I　can　only　rely　on　my　conscience。〃



〃_Adieu_；〃　said　the　whiskered　head　with　feeling。



Razumov　bowed。　　The　brougham　glided　away　with　a　slight　swish　in

the　snowhe　was　alone　on　the　edge　of　the　pavement。



He　said　to　himself　that　there　was　nothing　to　think　about；　and

began　walking　towards　his　home。



He　walked　quietly。　　It　was　a　common　experience　to　walk　thus

home　to　bed　after　an　evening　spent　somewhere　with　his　fellows　or

in　the　cheaper　seats　of　a　theatre。　　After　he　had　gone　a　little

way　the　familiarity　of　things　got　hold　of　him。　　Nothing　was

changed。　　There　was　the　familiar　corner；　and　when　he　turned　it　he

saw　the　familiar　dim　light　of　the　provision　shop　kept　by　a　German

woman。　　There　were　loaves　of　stale　bread；　bunches　of　onions　and

strings　of　sausages　behind　the　small　window…panes。　　They　were

closing　it。　　The　sickly　lame　fellow　whom　he　knew　so　well　by　sight

staggered　out　into　the　snow　embracing　a　large　shutter。



Nothing　would　change。　　There　was　the　familiar　gateway　yawning

black　with　feeble　glimmers　marking　the　arches　of　the　different

staircases。



The　sense　of　life's　continuity　depended　on　trifling　bodily

impressions。　　The　trivialities　of　daily　existence　were　an　armour

for　the　soul。　　And　this　thought　reinforced　the　inward　quietness

of　Razumov　as　he　began　to　climb　the　stairs　familiar　to　his　feet

in　the　dark；　with　his　hand　on　the　familiar　clammy　banister。　　The

exceptional　could　not　prevail　against　the　material　contacts　which

make　one　day　resemble　another。　　To…morrow　would　be　like　yesterday。



It　was　only　on　the　stage　that　the　unusual　was　outwardly　acknowledged。



〃I　suppose；〃　thought　Razumov；　〃that　if　I　had　made　up　my　mind　to

blow　out　my　brains　on　the　landing　I　would　be　going　up　these

stairs　as　quietly　as　I　am　doing　it　now。　　What's　a　man　to　do？

What　must　be　must　be。　　Extraordinary　things　do　happen。　　But　when

they　have　happened　they　are　done　with。　　Thus；　too；　when　the　mind

is　made　up。　　That　question　is　done　with。　　And　the　daily　concerns；

the　familiarities　of　our　thought　swallow　it　upand　the　life　goes

on　as　before　with　its　mysterious　and　secret　sides　quite　out

of　sight；　as　they　should　be。　　Life　is　a　public　thing。〃



Razumov　unlocked　his　door　and　took　the　key　out；　entered　very

quietly　and　bolted　the　door　behind　him　carefully。



He　thought；　〃He　hears　me；〃　and　after　bolting　the　door　he　stood

still　holding　his　breath。　　There　was　not　a　sound。　　He　crossed　the

bare　outer　room；　stepping　deliberately　in　the　darkness。　　Entering

the　other；　he　felt　all　over　his　table　for　the　matchbox。　　The

silence；　but　for　the　groping　of　his　hand；　was　profound。　　Could

the　fellow　be　sleeping　so　soundly？



He　struck　a　light　and　looked　at　the　bed。　　Haldin　was　lying　on

his　back　as　before；　only　both　his　hands　were　under　his　head。

His　eyes　were　open。　　He　stared　at　the　ceiling。



Razumov　held　the　match　up。　　He　saw　the　clear…cut　features；　the

firm　chin；　the　white　forehead　and　the　topknot　of　fair　hair

against　the　white　pillow。　　There　he　was；　lying　flat　on　his　back。

Razumov　thought　suddenly；　〃I　have　walked　over　his　chest。〃



He　continued　to　stare　till　the　match　burnt　itself　out；　then

struck　another　and　lit　the　lamp　in　silence　without　looking

towards　the　bed　any　more。　　He　had　turned　his　back　on　it　and　was

hanging　his　coat　on　a　peg　when　he　heard　Haldin　sigh　profoundly；

then　ask　in　a　tired　voice



〃Well！　　And　what　have　you　arranged？〃



The　emotion　was　so　great　that　Razumov　was　glad　to　put　his　hands

against　the　wall。　　A　diabolical　impulse　to　say；　〃I　have　given　you

up　to　the　police；〃　frightened　him　exceedingly。　　But　he　did　not

say　that。　　He　said；　without　turning　round；　in　a　muffled　voice



〃It's　done。〃



Again　he　heard　Haldin　sigh。　　He　walked　to　the　table；　sat　down

with　the　lamp　before　him；　and　only　then　looked　towards　the　bed。



In　the　distant　corner　of　the　large　room　far　away　from　the　lamp；

which　was　small　and　provided　with　a　very　thick　china　shade；

Haldin　appeared　like　a　dark　and　elongated　shaperigid　with　the

immobility　of　death。　　This　body　seemed　to　have　less　substance

than　its　own　phantom　walked　over　by　Razumov　in　the　street　white

with　snow。　　It　was　more　alarming　in　its　shadowy；　persistent

reality　than　the　distinct　but　vanishing　illusion。



Haldin　was　heard　again。



〃You　must　have　had　a　walksuch　a　walk。　。　。〃　he　murmured

deprecatingly。〃　　This　weather。　。　。〃



Razumov　answered　with　energy



〃Horrible　walk。　。　。　。　　A　nightmare　of　a　walk。〃



He　shuddered　audibly。　　Haldin　sighed　once　more；　then



〃And　so　you　have　seen　Ziemianitchbrother？〃



〃I've　seen　　him。〃



Razumov；　remembering　the　time　he　had　spent　with　the　Prince；

thought　it　prudent　to　add；　〃I　had　to　wait　some　time。〃



〃A　charactereh？　　It's　extraordinary　what　a　sense　of　the

necessity　of　freedom　there　is　in　that　man。　　And　he　has　sayings

toosimple；　to　the　point；　such　as　only　the　people　can　invent　in

their　rough　sagacity。　　A　character　that。　。　。〃




〃I；　you　understand；　haven't　had　much　opportunity。　。　。〃　　Razumov

muttered　through　his　teeth。



Haldin　continued　to　stare　at　the　ceiling。



〃You　see；　brother；　I　　have　been　a　　good　　deal　in　that　house　of

late。　　I　used　to　take　there　booksleaflets。　　Not　a　few　of　the

poor　people　who　live　there　can　read。　　And；　you　see；　the　guests

for　the　feast　of　freedom　must　be　sought　for　in　byways　and　hedges。

The　truth　is；　I　have　almost　lived　in　that　house　of　late。　　I　slept

sometimes　in　the　stable。　　There　is　a　stable。　。　。〃



〃That's　where　I　had　my　interview　with　Ziemianitch；〃　interrupted

Razumov　gently。　　A　mocking　spirit　entered　into　him　and　he　added；

〃It　was　satisfactory　in　a　sense。　　I　came　away　from　it　much　relieved。〃



〃Ah！　he's　a　fellow；〃　went　on　Haldin；　talking　slowly　at　the

ceiling。　　〃I　came　to　know　him　in　that　way；　you　see。　　For　some

weeks　now；　ever　since　I　resigned　myself　to　do　what　had　to　be

done；　I　tried　to　isolate　myself。　　I　gave　up　my　rooms。　　What　was

the　good　of　exposing　a　decent　widow　woman　to　the　risk　of　being

worried　out　of　her　mind　by　the　police？　　I　gave　up　seeing　any　of

our　comrades。　。　。〃



Razumov　drew　to　himself　a　half…sheet　of　paper　and　began　to　trace

lines　on　it　with　a　pencil。



〃Upon　my　word；〃　he　thought　angrily；　〃he　seems　to　have　thought　of

everybody's　safety　but　mine。〃



Haldin　was　talking　on。



〃This　　morningah！　this　morningthat　was　different。　　How　can　I

explain　to　you？　　Before　the　deed　was　done　I　wandered　at　night　and

lay　hid　in　the　day；　thinking　it　out；　and　I　felt　restful。

Sleepless　but　restful。　　What　was　there　for　me　to　torment　myself

about？　　But　this　morningafter！　　Then　it　was　that　I　became

restless。　　I　could　not　have　stopped　in　that　big　house　full　of

misery。　　The　miserable　of　this　world　can't　give　you　peace。

Then　when　that　silly　caretaker　began　to　shout；　I　said　to　myself；

'There　is　a　young　man　in　this　town　head　and　shoulders　above

common　prejudices。'〃



〃Is　he　laughing　at　mei？〃　。Razumov　asked　himself；　going　on　with

his　aimless　drawing　of　triangles　and　squares。　　And　suddenly　he

thought：　〃My　behaviour　must　appear　to　him　strange。　　Should　he

take　fright　at　my　manner　and　rush　off　somewhere　I　shall　be

undone　completely。　　That　infernal　General。　。　。〃



He　dropped　the　pencil　and　turned　abruptly　towards　the　bed　with

the　shadowy　figure　extended　full　length　on　itso　much　more

indistinct　than　the　one　over　whose　breast　he　had　walked　without

faltering。　　Was　this；　too；　a　phantom？



The　silence　had　lasted　a　long　time。　　〃He　is　no　longer　here；〃　was

the　thought　against　which　Razumov　struggled　desperately；　quite

frightened　at　its　absurdity。　　〃He　is　already　gone　and　this。　。　。

only。　。　。〃



He　could　resist　no　longer。　　He　sprang　to　his　feet；　saying　aloud；

〃I　am　intolerably　anxious；〃　and　in　a　few　headlong　strides　stood

by　the　side　of　the　bed。　　His　hand　fell　lightly　on　Haldin's

shoulder；　and　directly　he　felt　its　reality　he　was　beset　by　an

insane　temptation　to　grip　that　exposed　throat　and　squeeze　the

breath　out　of　that