under western eyes-第15节

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〃As　we　have　at　present　no　one　affiliated　inside　the　fortress　so

as　to　make　it　possible　to　furnish　him　with　a　packet　of　poison；　we

have　considered　already　some　sort　of　retaliatory　actionto

follow　very　soon。　。　。〃



Razumov　trudging　on　interrupted



〃Were　you　acquainted　with　Haldin？　　Did　he　know　where　you　live？〃



〃I　had　the　happiness　to　hear　him　speak　twice；〃　his　companion

answered　in　the　feverish　whisper　contrasting　with　the　gloomy

apathy　of　his　face　and　bearing。　　〃He　did　not　know　where

I　live　。　。　。　。　　I　am　lodging　poorly　with　an　artisan　family。　。　。　。

I　have　just　a　corner　in　a　room。　　It　is　not　very　practicable　to

see　me　there；　but　if　you　should　need　me　for　anything　I　am　ready。　。　。　。



Razumov　trembled　with　rage　and　fear。　　He　was　beside　himself；

but　kept　his　voice　low。



〃You　are　not　to　come　near　me。　　You　are　not　to　speak　to　me。　　Never

address　a　single　word　to　me。　　I　forbid　you。〃



〃Very　well；〃　said　the　other　submissively；　showing　no　surprise

whatever　at　this　abrupt　prohibition。　　〃You　don't　wish　for　secret

reasons。　。　。perfectly。　。　。I　understand。〃



He　edged　away　at　once；　not　looking　up　even；　and　Razumov　saw　his

gaunt；　shabby；　famine…stricken　figure　cross　the　street　obliquely

with　lowered　head　and　that　peculiar　exact　motion　of　the　feet。



He　watched　him　as　one　would　watch　a　vision　out　of　a　nightmare；

then　he　continued　on　his　way；　trying　not　to　think。　　On　his

landing　the　landlady　seemed　to　be　waiting　for　him。　　She　was　a

short；　thick；　shapeless　woman　with　a　large　yellow　face　wrapped　up

everlastingly　in　a　black　woollen　shawl。　　When　she　saw　him　come　up

the　last　flight　of　stairs　she　flung　both　her　arms　up　excitedly；

then　clasped　her　hands　before　her　face。



〃Kirylo　Sidorovitchlittle　fatherwhat　have　you　been　doing？

And　such　a　quiet　young　man；　too！　　The　police　are　just　gone　this

moment　after　searching　your　rooms。〃



Razumov　gazed　down　at　her　with　silent；　scrutinizing　attention。

Her　puffy　yellow　countenance　was　working　with　emotion。　　She

screwed　up　her　eyes　at　him　entreatingly。



〃Such　a　sensible　young　man！　　Anybody　can　see　you　are　sensible。

And　nowlike　thisall　at　once。　。　。　。　　What　is　the　good　of　mixing

yourself　up　with　these　Nihilists？　　Do　give　over；　little　father。

They　are　unlucky　people。〃



Razumov　moved　his　shoulders　slightly。



〃Or　is　it　that　some　secret　enemy　has　been　calumniating　you；

Kirylo　Sidorovitch？　　The　world　is　full　of　black　hearts　and　false

denunciations　nowadays。　　There　is　much　fear　about。〃



〃Have　you　heard　that　I　have　been　denounced　by　some　one？〃

asked　Razumov；　without　taking　his　eyes　off　her　quivering　face。



But　she　had　not　heard　anything。　　She　had　tried　to　find　out　by

asking　the　police　captain　while　his　men　were　turning　the　room

upside　down。　　The　police　captain　of　the　district　had　known　her

for　the　last　eleven　years　and　was　a　humane　person。　　But　he　said

to　her　on　the　landing；　looking　very　black　and　vexed



〃My　good　woman；　do　not　ask　questions。　　I　don't　know　anything

myself。　The　order　comes　from　higher　quarters。〃



And　indeed　there　had　appeared；shortly　after　the　arrival　of　the

policemen　of　the　district；　a　very　superior　gentleman　in　a　fur

coat　and　a　shiny　hat；　who　sat　down　in　the　room　and　looked　through

all　the　papers　himself。　　He　came　alone　and　went　away　by　himself；

taking　nothing　with　him。　　She　had　been　trying　to　put　things

straight　a　little　since　they　left。



Razumov　turned　away　brusquely　and　entered　his　rooms。



All　his　books　had　been　shaken　and　thrown　on　the　floor。　　His

landlady　followed　him；　and　stooping　painfully　began　to　pick　them

up　into　her　apron。　　His　papers　and　notes　which　were　kept　always

neatly　sorted　（they　all　related　to　his　studies）　had　been　shuffled

up　and　heaped　together　into　a　ragged　pile　in　the　middle　of　the　table。



This　disorder　affectecI　him　profoundly；　unreasonably。　　He　sat

down　and　stared。　　He　had　a　distinct　sensation　of　his　very

existence　being　undermined　in　some　mysterious　manner；　of　his

moral　supports　falling　away　from　him　one　by　one。　　He　even

experienced　a　slight　physical　giddiness　and　made　a　movement

as　if　to　reach　for　something　to　steady　himself　with。



The　old　woman；　rising　to　her　feet　with　a　low　groan；　shot　all

the　books　she　had　collected　in　her　apron　on　to　the　sofa　and　left

the　room　muttering　and　sighing。



It　was　only　then　that　he　noticed　that　the　sheet　of　paper　which

for　one　night　had　remained　stabbed　to　the　wall　above　his　empty

bed　was　lying　on　top　of　the　pile。



When　he　had　taken　it　down　the　day　before　he　had　folded　it　in

four；　absent…mindedly；　before　dropping　it　on　the　table。　　And　now

he　saw　it　lying　uppermost；　spread　out；　smoothed　out　even　and

covering　all　the　confused　pile　of　pages；　the　record　of　his

intellectual　life　for　the　last　three　years。　　It　had　not　been

flung　there。　　　It　had　been　placed　theresmoothed　out；　too！　　He

guessed　in　that　an　intention　of　profound　meaningor　perhaps　some

inexplicable　mockery。



He　sat　staring　at　the　piece　of　paper　till　his　eyes　began　to

smart。　　He　did　not　attempt　to　put　his　papers　in　order；　either

that　evening　or　the　next　daywhich　he　spent　at　home　in　a　state

of　peculiar　irresolution。　　This　irresoIution　bore　upon　the

question　whether　he　should　continue　to　liveneither　more　nor

less。　　But　its　nature　was　very　far　removed　from　the　hesitation　of

a　man　contemplating　suicide。　　The　idea　of　laying　violent　hands

upon　his　body　did　not　occur　to　Razumov。　　The　unrelated　organism

bearing　that　label；　walking；　breathing；　wearing　these　clothes；

was　of　no　importance　to　anyone；　unless　maybe　to　the　landlady。

The　true　Razumov　had　his　being　in　the　willed；　in　the　determined

futurein　that　future　menaced　by　the　lawlessness　of

autocracyfor　autocracy　knows　no　lawand　the　lawlessness　of

revolution。　　The　feeling　that　his　moral　personality　was　at　the

mercy　of　these　lawless　forces　was　so　strong　that　he　asked　himself

seriously　if　it　were　worth　while　to　go　on　accomplishing　the　men

tal　functions　of　that　existence　which　seemed　no　longer　his　own。



〃What　is　the　good　of　exerting　my　intelligence；　of　pursuing　the

systematic　development　of　my　faculties　and　all　my　plans　of　work？〃

he　asked　himself。　　〃I　want　to　guide　my　conduct　by　reasonable　convictions；

but　what　security　have　I　against　somethingsome　destructive　horror

walking　in　upon　me　as　I　sit　here？。　。　。



Razumov　looked　apprehensively　towards　the　door　of　the　outer　room

as　if　expecting　some　shape　of　evil　to　turn　the　handle　and　appear

before　him　silently。



〃A　common　thief；〃　he　said　to　himself；　〃finds　more　guarantees　in

the　law　he　is　breaking；　and　even　a　brute　like　Ziemianitch　has　his

consolation。〃　　Razumov　envied　the　materialism　of　the　thief　and

the　passion　of　the　incorrigible　lover。　　The　consequences　of　their

actions　were　always　clear　and　their　lives　remained　their　own。



But　he　slept　as　soundly　that　night　as　though　he　had　been

consoling　himself　in　the　manner　of　Ziemianitch。　　He　dropped　off

suddenly；　lay　like　a　log；　remembered　no　dream　on　waking。　　But　it

was　as　if　his　soul　had　gone　out　in　the　night　to　gather　the

flowers　of　wrathful　wisdom。　　He　got　up　in　a　mood　of　grim

determination　and　as　if　with　a　new　knowledge　of　his　own　nature。

He　looked　mockingly　on　the　heap　of　papers　on　his　table；　and　left

his　room　to　attend　the　lectures；　muttering　to　himself；　〃We　shall　see。〃



He　was　in　no　humour　to　talk　to　anybody　or　hear　himself　questioned

as　to　his　absence　from　lectures　the　day　before。　　But　it　was

difficult　to　repulse　rudely　a　very　good　comrade　with　a　smooth

pink　face　and　fair　hair；　bearing　the　nickname　amongst　his

fellow…students　of　〃Madcap　Kostia。〃　　He　was　the　idolized　　only

son　of　a　very　wealthy　and　illiterate　Government　contractor；　and

attended　the　lectures　only　during　the　periodical　fits　of

contrition　following　upon　tearful　paternal　remonstrances。

Noisily　blundering　like　a　retriever　puppy；　his　elated　voice

and　great　gestures　filled　the　bare　academy　corridors　with　the

joy　of　thoughtless　animal　life；　provoking　indulgent　smiles　at

a　great　distance。　　His　usual　discourses　treated　of　trotting　horses；

wine…parties　in　expensive　restaurants；　and　the　merits　of　persons

of　easy　virtue；　with　a　disarming　artlessness　of　outlook。　　He

pounced　upon　Razumov　about　midday；　somewhat　less　uproariously

than　his　habit　was；　and　led　him　aside。



〃Just　a　moment；　Kirylo　Sidorovitch。　　A　few　words　here　in　this

quiet　corner。〃



He　felt　Razumov's　reluctance；　and　insinuated　his　hand　under　his

arm　caressingly。



〃Nopray　do。　　I　don't　want　to　talk　to　you　about　any　of　my　silly

scrapes。　　What　are　my　scrapes？　　Absolutely　nothing。　　Mere

childishness。　　The　other　night　I　flung　a　fellow　out　of　a　certain

place　where　I　was　having　a　fairly　good　time。　　A　tyrannical　little

beast　of　a　quill…driver　from　the　Treasury　department。　　He　was

bullying　the　people　of　the　house。　　I　rebuked　him。　　'You　are　not

behaving　humanely　to　God's　creatures　that　are　a　jolly　sight　more

estimable　than　yourself；'　　I　said。