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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 imagine himself arbitrarily thrown into
prison； but it would never occur to him unless he were delirious
（and perhaps not even then） that he could be beaten with whips as
a practical measure either of investigation or of punishment。
This is but a crude and obvious example of the different
conditions of Western thought。 I don't know that this danger
occurred； specially to Mr。 Razumov。 No doubt it entered
unconsciously into the general dread and the general
appallingness of this crisis。 Razumov； as has been seen； was
aware of more subtle ways in which an individual may be undone by
the proceedings of a despotic Government。 A simple expulsion
from the University （the very least that could happen to him）；
with an impossibility to continue his studies anywhere； was
enough to ruin utterly a young man depending entirely upon the
development of his natural abilities for his place in the world。
He was a Russian： and for him to be implicated meant simply
sinking into the lowest social depths amongst the hopeless and
the destitutethe night birds of the city。
The peculiar circumstances of Razumov's parentage； or rather of
his lack of parentage； should be taken into the account of his
thoughts。 And he remembered them too。 He had been lately
reminded of them in a peculiarly atrocious way by this fatal
Haldin。 〃Because I haven't that； must everything else be
taken away from me？〃 he thought。
He nerved himself for another effort to go on。 Along the roadway
sledges glided phantom…like and jingling through a fluttering
whiteness on the black face of the night。 〃For it is a crime；〃
he was saying to himself。 〃A murder is a murder。 Though； of
course； some sort of liberal institutions。 。 。 。〃
A feeling of horrible sickness came over him。 〃I must be
courageous；〃 he exhorted himself mentally。 All his strength was
suddenly gone as if taken out by a hand。 Then by a mighty effort
of will it came back because he was afraid of fainting in the
street and being picked up by the police with the key of his
lodgings in his pocket。 They would find Haldin there； and then；
indeed； he would be undone。
Strangely enough it was this fear which seems to have kept him up
to the end。 The passers…by were rare。 They came upon him
suddenly； looming up black in the snowflakes close by； then
vanishing all at once…without footfalls。
It was the quarter of the very poor。 Razumov noticed an elderly
woman tied up in ragged shawls。 Under the street lamp she seemed
a beggar off duty。 She walked leisurely in the blizzard as though
she had no home to hurry to； she hugged under one arm a round
loaf of black bread with an air of guarding a priceless booty：
and Razumov averting his glance envied her the peace of her mind
and the serenity of her fate。
To one reading Mr。 Razumov's narrative it is really a wonder how
he managed to keep going as he did along one interminable street
after another on pavements that were gradually becoming blocked
with snow。 It was the thought of Haldin locked up in his rooms
and the desperate desire to get rid of his presence which
drove him forward。 No rational determination had any part in
his exertions。 Thus； when on arriving at the low eating…house he
heard that the man of horses； Ziemianitch； was not there； he
could only stare stupidly。
The waiter； a wild…haired youth in tarred boots and a pink shirt；
exclaimed； uncovering his pale gums in a silly grin； that
Ziemianitch had got his skinful early in the afternoon and had
gone away with a bottle under each arm to keep it up amongst the
horseshe supposed。
The owner of the vile den； a bony short man in a dirty cloth
caftan coming down to his heels； stood by； his hands tucked into
his belt； and nodded confirmation。
The reek of spirits； the greasy rancid steam of food got Razumov
by the throat。 He struck a table with his clenched hand and
shouted violently
〃You lie。〃
Bleary unwashed faces were turned to his direction。 A mild…eyed
ragged tramp drinking tea at the next table moved farther away。
A murmur of wonder arose with an undertone of uneasiness。 A
laugh was heard too； and an exclamation； 〃There！ there！〃
jeeringly soothing。 The waiter looked all round and announced to
the room
〃The gentleman won't believe that Ziemianitch is drunk。〃
》From a distant corner a hoarse voice belonging to a horrible；
nondescript； shaggy being with a black face like the muzzle of a
bear grunted angrily
〃The cursed driver of thieves。 What do we want with his
gentlemen here？ We are all honest folk in this place。〃
Razumov； biting his lip till blood came to keep himself from
bursting into imprecations； followed the owner of the den； who；
whispering 〃Come along； little father；〃 led him into a tiny hole
of a place behind the wooden counter； whence proceeded a s