under western eyes-第7节
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and of countless millions。
He responded to it with the readiness of a Russian who is born to
an inheritance of space and numbers。 Under the sumptuous
immensity of the sky； the snow covered the endless forests；
the frozen rivers； the plains of an immense country； obliterating
the landmarks； the accidents of the ground； levelling everything
under its uniform whiteness； like a monstrous blank page awaiting
the record of an inconceivable history。 It covered the passive
land with its lives of countless people like Ziemianitch and its
handful of agitators like this Haldin murdering foolishly。
It was a sort of sacred inertia。 Razumov felt a respect for it。
A voice seemed to cry within him； 〃Don't touch it。〃 It was a
guarantee of duration； of safety； while the travail of maturing
destiny went ona work not of revolutions with their passionate
levity of action and their shifting impulsesbut of peace。 What
it needed was not the conflicting aspirations of a people； but a
will strong and one： it wanted not the babble of many voices； but
a manstrong and one！
Razumov stood on the point of conversion。 He was fascinated by
its approach； by its overpowering logic。 For a train of thought
is never false。 The falsehood lies deep in the necessities of
existence； in secret fears and half…formed ambitions； in the
secret confidence combined with a secret mistrust of ourselves；
in the love of hope and the dread of uncertain days。
In Russia； the land of spectral ideas and disembodied
aspirations； many brave minds have turned away at last from the
vain and endless conflict to the one great historical fact of the
land。 They turned to autocracy for the peace of their patriotic
conscience as a weary unbeliever； touched by grace； turns to the
faith of his fathers for the blessing of spiritual rest。 Like
other Russians before him； Razumov； in conflict with himself；
felt the touch of grace upon his forehead。
〃Haldin means disruption；〃 he thought to himself； beginning to
walk again。 〃What is he with his indignation； with his talk
of bondagewith his talk of God's justice？ All that means
disruption。 Better that thousands should suffer than that a
people should become a disintegrated mass； helpless like dust in
the wind。 Obscurantism is better than the light of incendiary
torches。 The seed germinates in the night。 Out of the dark soil
springs the perfect plant。 But a volcanic eruption is sterile；
the ruin of the fertile ground。 And am I； who love my
countrywho have nothing but that to love and put my faith
inam I to have my future； perhaps my usefulness； ruined by this
sanguinary fanatic？〃
The grace entered into Razumov。 He believed now in the man who
would come at the appointed time。
What is a throne？ A few pieces of wood upholstered in velvet。
But a throne is a seat of power too。 The form of government is
the shape of a toolan instrument。 But twenty thousand bladders
inflated by the noblest sentiments and jostling against each
other in the air are a miserable incumbrance of space； holding no
power； possessing no will； having nothing to give。
He went on thus； heedless of the way； holding a discourse with
himself with extraordinary abundance and facility。 Generally his
phrases came to him slowly； after a conscious and painstaking
wooing。 Some superior power had inspired him with a flow of
masterly argument as certain converted sinners become
overwhelmingly loquacious。
He felt an austere exultation。
〃What are the luridly smoky lucubrations of that fellow to the
clear grasp of my intellect？〃 he thought。 〃Is not this my
country？ Have I not got forty million brothers？〃 he asked
himself； unanswerably victorious in the silence of his breast。
And the fearful thrashing he had given the inanimate Ziemianitch
seemed to him a sign of intimate union； a pathetically severe
necessity of brotherly love。 〃No！ If I must suffer let me at
least suffer for my convictions； not for a crime my reason my
cool superior reasonrejects。〃
He ceased to think for a moment。 The silence in his breast was
complete。 But he felt a suspicious uneasiness； such as we may
experience when we enter an unlighted strange placethe
irrational feeling that something may jump upon us in the
darkthe absurd dread of the unseen。
Of course he was far from being a moss…grown reactionary。
Everything was not for the best。 Despotic bureaucracy。 。 。
abuses。 。 。corruption。 。 。and so on。 Capable men were wanted。
Enlightened intelligences。 Devoted hearts。 But absolute power
should be preserved the tool ready for the manfor the great
autocrat of the future。 Razumov believed in him。 The logic of
history made him unavoidable。 The state of the people demanded
him； 〃What else？〃 he asked himself ardently； 〃could move all that
mass in one direction？ Nothing could。 Nothing but a single will。〃
He was persuaded that he was sacrificing his personal longings of
liberalismrejecting the attractive error for the stern Russian
truth。 〃That's patriotism；〃 he observed mentally； and added；
〃There's no stopping midway on that road；〃 and then remarked to
himself； 〃I am not a coward。〃
And again there was a dead silence in Razumov's breast。 He
walked with lowered head； making room for no one。 He walked
slowly and his thoughts returning spoke within him with solemn
slowness。
〃What is this Haldin？ And what am I？ Only two grains of sand。
But a great mountain is made up of just such insignificant
grains。 And the death of a man or of many men is an
insignificant thing。 Yet we combat a contagious pestilence。
Do I want his death？ No！ I would save him if I couldbut no
one can do thathe is the withered member which must be cut off。
If I must perish through him； let me at least not perish with
him； and associated against my will with his sombre folly that
understands nothing either of men or things。 Why should I leave
a false memory？〃
It passed through his mind that there was no one in the world who
cared what sort of memory he left behind him。 He exclaimed to
himself instantly； 〃Perish vainly for a falsehood！ 。 。 。 What a
miserable fate！〃
He was now in a more animated part of the town。 He did not
remark the crash of two colliding sledges close to the curb。
The driver of one bellowed tearfully at his fellow
〃Oh； thou vile wretch！〃
This hoarse yell； let out nearly in his ear； disturbed Razumov。
He shook his head impatiently and went on looking straight before
him。 Suddenly on the snow； stretched on his back right across
his path； he saw Haldin； solid； distinct； real； with his inverted
hands over his eyes； clad in a brown close…fitting coat and long
boots。 He was lying out of the way a little； as though he had
selected that place on purpose。 The snow round him was untrodden。
This hallucination had such a solidity of aspect that the first
movement of Razumov was to reach for his pocket to assure himself
that the key of his rooms was there。 But he checked the impulse
with a disdainful curve of his lips。 He understood。 His
thought； concentrated intensely on the figure left lying on his
bed； had culminated in this extraordinary illusion of the sight。
Razumov tackled the phenomenon calmly。 With a stern face；
without a check and gazing far beyond the vision； he walked on；
experiencing nothing but a slight tightening of the chest。
After passing he turned his head for a glance； and saw only the
unbroken track of his footsteps over the place where the breast
of the phantom had been lying。
Razumov walked on and after a little time whispered his wonder to
himself。
〃Exactly as if alive！ Seemed to breathe！ And right in my way too！
I have had an extraordinary experience。〃
He made a few steps and muttered through his set teeth
〃I shall give him up。〃
Then for some twenty yards or more all was blank。 He wrapped his
cloak closer round him。 He pulled his cap well forward over his eyes。
〃Betray。 A great word。 What is betrayal？ They talk of a man
betraying his country； his friends； his sweetheart。 There must
be a moral bond first。 All a man can betray is his conscience。
And how is my conscience engaged here； by what bond of common
faith； of common conviction； am I obliged to let that fanatical
idiot drag me down with him？ On the contraryevery obligation
of true courage is the other way。〃
Razumov looked round from under his cap。
〃What can the prejudice of the world reproach me with？ Have I
provoked his confidence？ No！ Have I by a single word； look； or
gesture given him reason to suppose that I accepted his trust in
me？ No！ It is true that I consented to go and see his
Ziemianitch。 Well； I have been to see him。 And I broke a stick
on his back toothe brute。〃
Something seemed to turn over in his head bringing uppermost a
singularly hard； clear facet of his
