UNDER WESTERN EYES. Джозеф Конрад

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СКАЧАТЬ said in an undertone.

      The quiet gravity of that gesture made Razumov pause. It was so unexpected, too. What did it mean? It had an alarming aloofness. Razumov remembered his intention of making him show his hand.

      "I have said all this to Prince K—-," he began with assumed indifference, but lost it on seeing Councillor Mikulin's slow nod of assent. "You know it? You've heard.... Then why should I be called here to be told of Haldin's execution? Did you want to confront me with his silence now that the man is dead? What is his silence to me! This is incomprehensible. You want in some way to shake my moral balance."

      "No. Not that," murmured Councillor Mikulin, just audibly. "The service you have rendered is appreciated...."

      "Is it?" interrupted Razumov ironically.

      "...and your position too." Councillor Mikulin did not raise his voice. "But only think! You fall into Prince K—-'s study as if from the sky with your startling information.... You are studying yet, Mr. Razumov, but we are serving already—don't forget that.... And naturally some curiosity was bound to...."

      Councillor Mikulin looked down his beard. Razumov's lips trembled.

      "An occurrence of that sort marks a man," the homely murmur went on. "I admit I was curious to see you. General T—- thought it would be useful, too.... Don't think I am incapable of understanding your sentiments. When I was young like you I studied...."

      "Yes—you wished to see me," said Razumov in a tone of profound distaste. "Naturally you have the right—I mean the power. It all amounts to the same thing. But it is perfectly useless, if you were to look at me and listen to me for a year. I begin to think there is something about me which people don't seem able to make out. It's unfortunate. I imagine, however, that Prince K—- understands. He seemed to."

      Councillor Mikulin moved slightly and spoke.

      "Prince K—- is aware of everything that is being done, and I don't mind informing you that he approved my intention of becoming personally acquainted with you."

      Razumov concealed an immense disappointment under the accents of railing surprise.

      "So he is curious too!... Well—after all, Prince K—- knows me very little. It is really very unfortunate for me, but—it is not exactly my fault."

      Councillor Mikulin raised a hasty deprecatory hand and inclined his head slightly over his shoulder.

      "Now, Mr. Razumov—is it necessary to take it in that way? Everybody I am sure can...."

      He glanced rapidly down his beard, and when he looked up again there was for a moment an interested expression in his misty gaze. Razumov discouraged it with a cold, repellent smile.

      "No. That's of no importance to be sure—except that in respect of all this curiosity being aroused by a very simple matter.... What is to be done with it? It is unappeasable. I mean to say there is nothing to appease it with. I happen to have been born a Russian with patriotic instincts—whether inherited or not I am not in a position to say."

      Razumov spoke consciously with elaborate steadiness.

      "Yes, patriotic instincts developed by a faculty of independent thinking—of detached thinking. In that respect I am more free than any social democratic revolution could make me. It is more than probable that I don't think exactly as you are thinking. Indeed, how could it be? You would think most likely at this moment that I am elaborately lying to cover up the track of my repentance."

      Razumov stopped. His heart had grown too big for his breast. Councillor Mikulin did not flinch.

      "Why so?" he said simply. "I assisted personally at the search of your rooms. I looked through all the papers myself. I have been greatly impressed by a sort of political confession of faith. A very remarkable document. Now may I ask for what purpose...."

      "To deceive the police naturally," said Razumov savagely.... "What is all this mockery? Of course you can send me straight from this room to Siberia. That would be intelligible. To what is intelligible I can submit. But I protest against this comedy of persecution. The whole affair is becoming too comical altogether for my taste. A comedy of errors, phantoms, and suspicions. It's positively indecent...."

      Councillor Mikulin turned an attentive ear. "Did you say phantoms?" he murmured.

      "I could walk over dozens of them." Razumov, with an impatient wave of his hand, went on headlong, "But, really, I must claim the right to be done once for all with that man. And in order to accomplish this I shall take the liberty...."

      Razumov on his side of the table bowed slightly to the seated bureaucrat.

      "... To retire—simply to retire," he finished with great resolution.

      He walked to the door, thinking, "Now he must show his hand. He must ring and have me arrested before I am out of the building, or he must let me go. And either way...."

      An unhurried voice said—

      "Kirylo Sidorovitch." Razumov at the door turned his head.

      "To retire," he repeated.

      "Where to?" asked Councillor Mikulin softly.

      PART SECOND

       Table of Contents

      I

       Table of Contents

      In the conduct of an invented story there are, no doubt, certain proprieties to be observed for the sake of clearness and effect. A man of imagination, however inexperienced in the art of narrative, has his instinct to guide him in the choice of his words, and in the development of the action. A grain of talent excuses many mistakes. But this is not a work of imagination; I have no talent; my excuse for this undertaking lies not in its art, but in its artlessness. Aware of my limitations and strong in the sincerity of my purpose, I would not try (were I able) to invent anything. I push my scruples so far that I would not even invent a transition.

      Dropping then Mr. Razumov's record at the point where Councillor Mikulin's question "Where to?" comes in with the force of an insoluble problem, I shall simply say that I made the acquaintance of these ladies about six months before that time. By "these ladies" I mean, of course, the mother and the sister of the unfortunate Haldin.

      By what arguments he had induced his mother to sell their little property and go abroad for an indefinite time, I cannot tell precisely. I have an idea that Mrs. Haldin, at her son's wish, would have set fire to her house and emigrated to the moon without any sign of surprise or apprehension; and that Miss Haldin—Nathalie, caressingly Natalka—would have given her assent to the scheme.

      Their proud devotion to that young man became clear to me in a very short time. Following his directions they went straight to Switzerland—to Zurich—where they remained the best part of a year. From Zurich, which they did not like, they came to Geneva. A friend of mine in Lausanne, a lecturer in history at the University (he had married a Russian lady, a distant connection of Mrs. Haldin's), wrote to me suggesting I should call СКАЧАТЬ