under western eyes- 第15部分

festive　soul　should　have　fallen　too　under　the　revolutionary　curse

affected　him　as　an　ominous　symptom　of　the　time。　　He　reproached

himself　for　feeling　troubled。　　Personally　he　ought　to　have　felt

reassured。　　There　was　an　obvious　advantage　in　this　conspiracy　of

mistaken　judgment　taking　him　for　what　he　was　not。　　But　was　it　not

strange？



Again　he　experienced　that　sensation　of　his　conduct　being　taken

out　of　his　hands　by　Haldin's　revolutionary　tyranny。　　His　solitary

and　laborious　existence　had　been　destroyedthe　only　thing　he

could　call　his　own　on　this　earth。　　By　what　right？　　he　asked

himself　furiously。　　In　what　name？



What　infuriated　him　most　was　to　feel　that　the　〃thinkers〃　of　the

University　were　evidently　connecting　him　with　Haldinas　a　sort

of　confidant　in　the　background　apparently。　　A　　mysterious　connexion！

Ha　ha！。　。　。He　had　been　made　a　personage　without　knowing　anything

about　it。　　How　that　wretch　Haldin　must　have　talked　about　him！

Yet　it　was　likely　that　Haldin　had　said　very　little。　　The　fellow's

casual　utterances　were　caught　up　and　treasured　and　pondered　over

by　all　these　imbeciles。　　And　was　not　all　secret　revolutionary　action

based　upon　folly；　self…deception；　and　lies？



〃Impossible　to　think　of　anything　else；〃　muttered　Razumov　to

himself。　　〃I'll　become　an　idiot　if　this　goes　on。　　The　scoundrels

and　the　fools　are　murdering　my　intelligence。〃



He　lost　all　hope　of　saving　his　future；　which　depended　on　the　free

use　of　his　intelligence。



He　reached　the　doorway　of　his　house　in　a　state　of　mental

discouragement　which　enabled　him　to　receive　with　apparent

indifference　an　official…looking　envelope　from　the　dirty　hand　of

the　dvornik。



〃A　gendarme　brought　it；〃　said　the　man。　　〃He　asked　if　you　were

at　home。　　I　told　him　　'No；　he's　not　at　home。'　　So　he　left　it。

'Give　it　into　his　own　hands；'　says　he。　Now　you've　got　iteh？〃



He　went　back　to　his　sweeping；　and　Razumov　climbed　his　stairs；

envelope　in　hand。　　Once　in　his　room　he　did　not　hasten　to　open　it。

Of　course　this　official　missive　was　from　the　superior　direction

of　the　police。　　A　suspect！　　Asuspect！



He　stared　in　dreary　astonishment　at　the　absurdity　of　his

position。　　He　thought　with　a　sort　of　dry；　unemotional　melancholy；

three　years　of　good　work　gone；　the　course　of　forty　more　perhaps

jeopardizedturned　from　hope　to　terror；　because　events　started

by　human　folly　link　themselves　into　a　sequence　which　no　sagacity

can　foresee　and　no　courage　can　break　through。　Fatality　enters

your　rooms　while　your　landlady's　back　is　turned；　you　come　home

and　find　it　in　possession　bearing　a　man's　name；　clothed　in

fleshwearing　a　brown　cloth　coat　and　long　bootslounging

against　the　stove。　　It　asks　you；　〃Is　the　outer　door　closed？〃and

you　don't　know　enough　to　take　it　by　the　throat　and　fling　it

downstairs。　　You　don't　know。　　You　welcome　the　crazy　fate。　　〃Sit

down；〃　you　say。　　And　it　is　all　over。　　You　cannot　shake　it　off　any

more。　　It　will　cling　to　you　for　ever。　　Neither　halter　nor　bullet

can　give　you　back　the　freedom　of　your　life　and　the　sanity　of

your　thought。　。　。　。　　It　was　enough　to　dash　one's　head

against　a　wall。



Razumov　looked　slowly　all　round　the　walls　as　if　to　select　a　spot

to　dash　his　head　against。　　Then　he　opened　the　letter。　　It

directed　the　student　Kirylo　Sidorovitch　Razumov　to　present

himself　without　delay　at　the　General　Secretariat。



Razumov　had　a　vision　of　General　T…'s　goggle　eyes　waiting　for

himthe　embodied　power　of　autocracy；　grotesque　and　terrible。　　He

embodied　the　whole　power　of　autocracy　because　he　was　its

guardian。　　He　was　the　incarnate　suspicion；　the　incarnate　anger；

the　incarnate　ruthlessness　of　a　political　and　social　regime　on

its　defence。　　He　loathed　rebellion　by　instinct。　And　Razumov

reflected　that　the　man　was　simply　unable　to　understand　a

reasonable　adherence　to　the　doctrine　of　absolutism。



〃What　can　he　want　with　me　preciselyI　wonder？〃　he　asked　himself。



As　if　that　mental　question　had　evoked　the　familiar　phantom；

Haldin　stood　suddenly　before　him　in　the　room　with　an

extraordinary　completeness　of　detail。　　Though　the　short　winter

day　had　passed　already　into　the　sinister　twilight　of　a　land

buried　in　snow；　Razumov　saw　plainly　the　narrow　leather　strap

round　the　Tcherkess　coat。　　The　illusion　of　that　hateful　presence

was　so　perfect　that　he　half　expected　it　to　ask；　〃Is　the　outer

door　closed？〃　He　looked　at　it　with　hatred　and　contempt。　Souls　do

not　take　a　shape　of　clothing。　　Moreover；　Haldin　could　not　be

dead　yet。　Razumov　stepped　forward　menacingly；　the　vision

vanishedand　turning　short　on　his　heel　he　walked　out

of　his　room　with　infinite　disdain。



But　after　going　down　the　first　flight　of　stairs　it　occurred　to

him　that　perhaps　the　superior　authorities　of　police　meant　to

confront　him　with　Haldin　in　the　flesh。　　This　thought　struck　him

like　a　bullet；　and　had　he　not　clung　with　both　hands　to　the

banister　he　would　have　rolled　down　to　the　next　landing　most

likely。　　His　legs　were　of　no　use　for　a　considerable　time。　。　。　。

But　why？　　For　what　conceivable　reason？　　To　what　end？



There　could　be　no　rational　answer　to　these　questions；　but　Razumov

remembered　the　promise　made　by　the　General　to　Prince　K…。　　His

action　was　to　remain　unknown。



He　got　down　to　the　bottom　of　the　stairs；　lowering　himself　as　it

were　from　step　to　step；　by　the　banister。　Under　the　gate　he

regained　much　of　his　firmness　of　thought　and　limb。　　He　went　out

into　the　street　without　staggering　visibly。　　Every　moment　he　felt

steadier　mentally。　　And　yet　he　was　saying　to　himself　that　General

T…　was　perfectly　capable　of　shutting　him　up　in　the　fortress　for

an　indefinite　time。　　His　temperament　fitted　his　remorseless　task；

and　his　omnipotence　made　him　inaccessible　to　reasonable　argument。



But　when　Razumov　arrived　at　the　Secretariat　he　discovered　that　he

would　have　nothing　to　do　with　General　T…。　　It　is　evident　from

Mr。　Razumov's　diary　that　this　dreaded　personality　was　to　remain

in　the　background。　　A　civilian　of　superior　rank　received　him　in　a

private　room　after　a　period　of　waiting　in　outer　offices　where　a

lot　of　scribbling　went　on　at　many　tables　in　a　heated　and　stuffy

atmosphere。



The　clerk　in　uniform　who　conducted　him　said　in　the　corridor



〃You　are　going　before　Gregor　Matvieitch　Mikulin。〃



There　was　nothing　formidable　about　the　man　bearing　that　name。

His　mild；　expectant　glance　was　turned　on　the　door　already　when

Razumov　entered。　　At　once；　with　the　penholder　he　was　holding　in

his　hand；　he　pointed　to　a　deep　sofa　between　two　windows。　　He

followed　Razumov　with　his　eyes　while　that　last　crossed　the　room

and　sat　down。　The　mild　gaze　rested　on　him；　not　curious；　not

inquisitivecertainly　not　suspiciousalmost　without　expression。

In　its　passionless　persistence　there　was　something　resembling

sympathy。



Razumov；　who　had　prepared　his　will　and　his　intelligence　to

encounter　General　T…　himself；　was　profoundly　troubled。　　All　the

moral　bracing　up　against　the　possible　excesses　of　power　and

passion　went　for　nothing　before　this　sallow　man；　who　wore　a　full

unclipped　beard。　　It　was　fair；　thin；　and　very　fine。　　The　light

fell　in　coppery　gleams　on　the　protuberances　of　a　high；　rugged

forehead。　　And　the　aspect　of　the　broad；　soft　physiognomy　was　so

homely　and　rustic　that　the　careful　middle　parting　of　the　hair

seemed　a　pretentious　affectation。



The　diary　of　Mr。　Razumov　testifies　to　some　irritation　on　his

part。　　I　may　remark　here　that　the　diary　proper　consisting　of　the

more　or　less　daily　entries　seems　to　have　been　begun　on　that　very

evening　after　Mr。　Razumov　had　returned　home。



Mr。　Razumov；　then；　was　irritated。　　His　strung…up　individuality

had　　gone　to　pieces　within　him　very　suddenly。



〃I　must　be　very　prudent　with　him；〃　he　warned　himself　in　the

silence　during　which　they　sat　gazing　at　each　other。　　It　lasted

some　little　time；　and　was　characterized　（for　silences　have　their

character）　by　a　sort　of　sadness　imparted　to　it　perhaps　by　the

mild　and　thoughtful　manner　of　the　bearded　official。　　Razumov

learned　later　that　he　was　the　chief　of　a　department　in　the

General　Secretariat；　with　a　rank　in　the　civil　service　equivalent

to　that　of　a　colonel　in　the　army。



Razumov's　mistrust　became　acute。　　The　main　point　was；　not　to　be

drawn　into　saying　too　much。　　He　had　been　called　there　for　some

reason。　　What　reason？　　To　be　given　to　understand　that　he　was　a

suspectand　also　no　doubt　to　be　pumped。　　As　to　what　precisely？

There　was　nothing。　　Or　perhaps　Haldin　had　been　telling　lies。　。　。　。

Every　alarming　uncertainty　beset　Razumov。　　He　could　bear　the

silence　no　longer；　and　cursing　himself　for　his　weakness　spoke

first；　though　he　had　promised　himself　not　to　do　so　on　any

account。



〃I　haven't　lost　a　moment's　time；〃　he　began　in　a　hoarse；　provoking

tone；　and　then　the　faculty　of　speech　seemed　to　leave　him　and

enter　the　body　of　Councillor　Mikulin；　who　chimed　in　approvingly



〃Very　proper。　　Very　proper。　　Though　as　a　matter　of　fact。　。　。



But　the　spell　was　broken；　and　Razumov　interrupted　him　boldly；

under　a　sudden　conviction　that　this　was　the　safest　attitude　to

take。　　With　a　great　flow　of　words　he　complained　of　being　totally

misunderstood。　　Even　as　he　talked　with　a　perception　of　his　own

audacity　he　thought　that　the　word　〃misunderstood〃　was　better　than

the　word　〃mistrusted；〃　and　he　repeated　it　again　with　insistence。

Suddenly　he　ceased；　being　seized　with　fright　before　the　attentive

immobility　of　the　official。　　〃What　am　I　talking　about？〃　he

thought；　eyeing　him　with　a　vague　gaze。　　Mistrustednot

misunderstoodwas　the　right　symbol　for　these　people。

Misunderstood　was　the　other　kind　of　curse。　　Both　had　been　brought

on　his　head　by　that　fellow　Haldin。　　And　his　head　ached　terribly。

He　passed　his　hand　over　his　browan　involuntary　gesture　of

suffering；　which　he　was　too　careless　to　restrain。











End