It was exasperating...." He turned to
Razumov, and in Russian, with friendly reproach--
"Take a chair, Mr. Razumov--do. Why are you standing?"
Razumov sat down carelessly and looked at the General.
"This goggle-eyed imbecile understands nothing," he thought.
The Prince began to speak loftily.
"Mr. Razumov is a young man of conspicuous abilities. I have it at heart
that his future should not...."
"Certainly," interrupted the General, with a movement of the hand. "Has
he any weapons on him, do you think, Mr. Razumov?"
The General employed a gentle musical voice. Razumov answered with
suppressed irritation--
"No. But my razors are lying about--you understand."
The General lowered his head approvingly.
"Precisely."
Then to the Prince, explaining courteously--
"We want that bird alive. It will be the devil if we can't make him sing
a little before we are done with him."
The grave-like silence of the room with its mute clock fell upon the
polite modulations of this terrible phrase. The Prince, hidden in the
chair, made no sound.
The General unexpectedly developed a thought.
"Fidelity to menaced institutions on which depend the safety of a
throne and of a people is no child's play. We know that, _mon Prince,_
and--_tenez_--" he went on with a sort of flattering harshness, "Mr.
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