Under Western Eyes | Page 8

have girls
and boys of their own, who perhaps would be aware of him as a
celebrated old professor, decorated, possibly a Privy Councillor, one of
the glories of Russia--nothing more!
But a celebrated professor was a somebody. Distinction would convert
the label Razumov into an honoured name. There was nothing strange
in the student Razumov's wish for distinction. A man's real life is that
accorded to him in the thoughts of other men by reason of respect or
natural love. Returning home on the day of the attempt on Mr. de P---'s
life Razumov resolved to have a good try for the silver medal.

Climbing slowly the four flights of the dark, dirty staircase in the house
where he had his lodgings, he felt confident of success. The winner's
name would be published in the papers on New Year's Day. And at the
thought that "He" would most probably read it there, Razumov stopped
short on the stairs for an instant, then went on smiling faintly at his own
emotion. "This is but a shadow," he said to himself," but the medal is a
solid beginning."
With those ideas of industry in his head the warmth of his room was
agreeable and encouraging. "I shall put in four hours of good work," he
thought. But no sooner had he closed the door than he was horribly
startled. All black against the usual tall stove of white tiles gleaming in
the dusk, stood a strange figure, wearing a skirted, close-fitting, brown
cloth coat strapped round the waist, in long boots, and with a little
Astrakhan cap on its head. It loomed lithe and martial. Razumov was
utterly confounded. It was only when the figure advancing two paces
asked in an untroubled, grave voice if the outer door was closed that he
regained his power of speech.
"Haldin!. . . Victor Victorovitch!. . . Is that you? . . . Yes. The outer
door is shut all right. But this is indeed unexpected."
Victor Haldin, a student older than most of his contemporaries at the
University, was not one of the industrious set. He was hardly ever seen
at lectures; the authorities had marked him as "restless" and "unsound
"--very bad notes. But he had a great personal prestige with his
comrades and influenced their thoughts. Razumov had never been
intimate with him. They had met from time to time at gatherings in
other students' houses. They had even had a discussion together--one of
those discussions on first principles dear to the sanguine minds of
youth.
Razumov wished the man had chosen some other time to come for a
chat. He felt in good trim to tackle the prize essay. But as Haldin could
not be slightingly dismissed Razumov adopted the tone of hospitality,
asking him to sit down and smoke.
"Kirylo Sidorovitch," said the other, flinging off his cap, "we are not

perhaps in exactly the same camp. Your judgment is more
philosophical. You are a man of few words, but I haven't met anybody
who dared to doubt the generosity of your sentiments. There is a
solidity about your character which cannot exist without courage."
Razumov felt flattered and began to murmur shyly something about
being very glad of his good opinion, when Haldin raised his hand.
"That is what I was saying to myself," he continued, "as I dodged in the
woodyard down by the river-side. 'He has a strong character this young
man,' I said to myself. 'He does not throw his soul to the winds.' Your
reserve has always fascinated me, Kirylo Sidorovitch. So I tried to
remember your address. But look here-- it was a piece of luck. Your
dvornik was away from the gate talking to a sleigh-driver on the other
side of the street. I met no one on the stairs, not a soul. As I came up to
your floor I caught sight of your landlady coming out of your rooms.
But she did not see me. She crossed the landing to her own side, and
then I slipped in. I have been here two hours expecting you to come in
every moment."
Razumov had listened in astonishment; but before he could open his
mouth Haldin added, speaking deliberately," It was I who removed de
P--- this morning." Razumov kept down a cry of dismay. The sentiment
of his life being utterly ruined by this contact with such a crime
expressed itself quaintly by a sort of half- derisive mental exclamation,
"There goes my silver medal!"
Haldin continued after waiting a while--
"You say nothing, Kirylo Sidorovitch! I understand your silence. To be
sure, I cannot expect you with your frigid English manner to embrace
me. But never mind your manners. You have enough heart to have
heard the sound of weeping and gnashing