under western eyes-第5章

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Razumov　remembered　certain　words　he　said；　the　speeches　he　had

listened　to；　the　harmless　gatherings　he　had　attendedit　was

almost　impossible　for　a　student　to　keep　out　of　that　sort　of

thing；　without　becoming　suspect　to　his　comrades。



Razumov　saw　himself　shut　up　in　a　fortress；　worried；　badgered；

perhaps　ill…used。　　He　saw　himself　deported　by　an　administrative

order；　his　life　broken；　ruined；　and　robbed　of　all　hope。　　He　saw

himselfat　bestleading　a　miserable　existence　under　police

supervision；　in　some　small；　faraway　provincial　town；　without

friends　to　assist　his　necessities　or　even　take　any　steps　to

alleviate　his　lotas　others　had。　　Others　had　fathers；　mothers；

brothers；　relations；　connexions；　to　move　heaven　and　earth　on

their　behalf　he　had　no　one。　The　very　officials　that　sentenced

him　some　morning　would　forget　his　existence　before　sunset。



He　saw　his　youth　pass　away　from　him　in　misery　and　half

starvationhis　strength　give　way；　his　mind　become　an　abject

thing。　　He　saw　himself　creeping；　broken　down　and　shabby；　about

the　streetsdying　unattended　in　some　filthy　hole　of　a　room；　or

on　the　sordid　bed　of　a　Government　hospital。



He　shuddered。　Then　the　peace　of　bitter　calmness　came　over　him。

It　was　best　to　keep　this　man　out　of　the　streets　till　he　could　be

got　rid　of　with　some　chance　of　escaping。　　That　was　the　best　that

could　be　done。　Razumov；　of　course；　felt　the　safety　of　his　lonely

existence　to　be　permanently　endangered。　　This　evening's　doings

could　turn　up　against　him　at　any　time　as　long　as　this　man　lived

and　the　present　institutions　endured。　　They　appeared　to　him

rational　and　indestructible　at　that　moment。　　They　had　a　force　of

harmonyin　contrast　with　the　horrible　discord　of　this　man's

presence。　　He　hated　the　man。　　He　said　quietly



〃Yes；　of　course；　I　will　go。　　'You　must　give　me　precise

directions；　and　for　the　restdepend　on　me。〃



〃Ah！　You　are　a　fellow！　　Collectedcool　as　a　cucumber。　　A　regular

Englishman。　　Where　did　you　get　your　soul　from？　　There　aren't

many　like　you。　　Look　here；　brother！　　Men　like　me　leave　no

posterity；　but　their　souls　are　not　lost。　　No　man's　soul　is　ever

lost。　　It　works　for　itselfor　else　where　would　be　the　sense　of

self…sacrifice；　of　martyrdom；　of　conviction；　of　faiththe

labours　of　the　soul？　　What　will　become　of　my　soul　when　I　die　in

the　way　I　must　diesoonvery　soon　perhaps？　It　shall　not　perish。

Don't　make　a　mistake；　Razumov。　　This　is　not　murderit　is

war；　war。　　My　spirit　shall　go　on　warring　in　some　Russian　body

till　all　falsehood　is　swept　out　of　the　world。　　The　modern

civilization　is　false；　but　a　new　revelation　shall　come　out　of

Russia。　　Ha！　you　say　nothing。　You　are　a　sceptic。　　I　respect　your

philosophical　scepticism；　Razumov；　but　don't　touch　the　soul。　　The

Russian　soul　that　lives　in　all　of　us。　　It　has　a　future。　　It　has　a

mission；　I　tell　you；　or　else　why　should　I　have　been　moved　to

do　thisreckless…like　a　butcher　in　the　middle　of　all　these

innocent　peoplescattering　deathI！　　I！。　。　。I　wouldn't　hurt　a　fly！〃



〃Not　so　loud；〃　warned　Razumov　harshly。



Haldin　sat　down　abruptly；　and　leaning　his　head　on　his　folded　arms

burst　into　tears。　　He　wept　for　a　long　time。　　The　dusk　had

deepened　in　the　room。　　Razumov；　motionless　in　sombre　wonder；

listened　to　the　sobs。



The　other　raised　his　head；　got　up　and　with　an　effort　mastered　his　voice。



〃Yes。　　Men　like　me　leave　no　posterity；〃　　he　repeated　in　a

subdued　tone。〃　　I　have　a　sister　though。　　She's　with　my　old

motherI　persuaded　them　to　go　abroad　this　yearthank　God。

Not　a　bad　little　girl　my　sister。　　She　has　the　most　trustful　eyes　of

any　human　being　that　ever　walked　this　earth。　　She　will　marry

well；　I　hope。　　She　may　have　childrensons　perhaps。　　Look　at　me。

My　father　was　a　Government　official　in　the　provinces；　　He　had　a

little　land　too。　　A　simple　servant　of　Goda　true　Russian　in　his

way。　　His　was　the　soul　of　obedience。　But　I　am　not　like　him。　　They

say　I　resemble　my　mother's　eldest　brother；　an　officer。　　They　shot

him　in　'28。　　Under　Nicholas；　you　know。　　Haven't　I　told　you　that

this　is　war；　war。　。　。　。　　But　God　of　Justice！　　This　is　weary　work。〃



Razumov；　in　his　chair；　leaning　his　head　on　his　hand；　spoke　as　if

from　the　bottom　of　an　abyss。



〃You　believe　in　God；　Haldin？〃



〃There　you　go　catching　at　words　that　are　wrung　from　one。　　What

does　it　matter？　　What　was　it　the　Englishman　said　：　'There　is　a

divine　soul　in　things　。　。　。'　Devil　take　himI　don't　remember

now。　　But　he　spoke　the　truth。　　When　the　day　of　you　thinkers　comes

don't　you　forget　what's　divine　in　the　Russian　souland　that's

resignation。　　Respect　that　in　your　intellectual　restlessness　and

don't　let　your　arrogant　wisdom　spoil　its　message　to　the　world。　　I

am　speaking　to　you　now　like　a　man　with　a　rope　round　his　neck。

What　do　you　imagine　I　am？　A　being　in　revolt？　　No。　　It's　you

thinkers　who　are　in　everlasting　revolt。　　I　am　one　of　the

resigned。　When　the　necessity　of　this　heavy　work　came　to　me　and　I

understood　that　it　had　to　be　donewhat　did　I　do？　Did　I　exult？

Did　I　take　pride　in　my　purpose？　　Did　I　try　to　weigh　its　worth　and

consequences？　　No！　　I　was　resigned。　　I　thought　'God's　will　be

done。'〃



He　threw　himself　full　length　on　Razumov's　bed　and　putting　the

backs　of　his　hands　over　his　eyes　remained　perfectly　motionless

and　silent。　　Not　even　the　sound　of　his　breathing　could　be　heard。

The　dead　stillness　or　the　room　remained　undisturbed　till　in　the

darkness　Razumov　said　gloomily



〃Haldin。〃



〃Yes；〃　answered　the　other　readily；　quite　invisible　now　on　the　bed

and　without　the　slightest　stir。



〃Isn't　it　time　for　me　to　start？〃



〃Yes；　brother。〃　　The　other　was　heard；　lying　still　in　the　darkness

as　though　he　were　talking　in　his　sleep。　　〃The　time　has　come　to

put　fate　to　the　test。〃



He　paused；　then　gave　a　few　lucid　directions　in　the　quiet

impersonal　voice　of　a　man　in　a　trance。　　Razumov　made　ready

without　a　word　of　answer。　　As　he　was　leaving　the　room　the　voice

on　the　bed　said　after　him



〃Go　with　God；　thou　silent　soul。〃



On　the　landing；　moving　softly；　Razumov　locked　the　door　and　put

the　key　in　his　pocket。





II



The　words　and　events　of　that　evening　must　have　been　graven　as　if

with　a　steel　tool　on　Mr。　Razumov's　brain　since　he　was　able　to

write　his　relation　with　such　fullness　and　precision　a　good　many

months　afterwards。



The　record　of　the　thoughts　which　assailed　him　in　the　street　is

even　more　minute　and　abundant。　　They　seem　to　have　rushed　upon　him

with　the　greater　freedom　because　his　thinking　powers　were　no

longer　crushed　by　Haldin's　presencethe　appalling　presence　of　a

great　crime　and　the　stunning　force　of　a　great　fanaticism。　　On

looking　through　the　pages　of　Mr。　Razumov's　diary　I　own　that　a

〃rush　of　thoughts〃　is　not　an　adequate　image。



The　more　adequate　description　would　be　a　tumult　of　thoughtsthe

faithful　reflection　of　the　state　of　his　feelings。　　The　thoughts

in　themselves　were　not　numerousthey　were　like　the　thoughts　of

most　human　beings；　few　and　simplebut　they　cannot　be　reproduced

here　in　all　their　exclamatory　repetitions　which　went　on　in　an

endless　and　weary　turmoilfor　the　walk　was　long。



If　to　the　Western　reader　they　appear　shocking；　inappropriate；　or

even　improper；　it　must　be　remembered　that　as　to　the　first　this

may　be　the　effect　of　my　crude　statement。　　For　the　rest　I　will

only　remark　here　that　this　is　not　a　story　of　the　West　of　Europe。



Nations　it　may　be　have　fashioned　their　Governments；　but　the

Governments　have　paid　them　back　in　the　same　coin。　　It　is

unthinkable　that　any　young　Englishman　should　find　himself　in

Razumov's　situation。　　This　being　so　it　would　be　a　vain　enterprise

to　imagine　what　he　would　think。　　The　only　safe　surmise　to　make　is

that　he　would　not　think　as　Mr。　Razumov　thought　at　this　crisis　of

his　fate。　　He　would　not　have　an　hereditary　and　personal　knowledge

or　the　means　by　which　historical　autocracy　represses　ideas；

guards　its　power；　and　defends　its　existence。　　By　an　act　of　mental

extravagance　he　might