Sudden fear sealed Razumov's lips. The silence
of the room resembled now the silence of a deep dungeon, where time does
not count, and a suspect person is sometimes forgotten for ever. But the
Prince came to the rescue.
"Providence itself has led the wretch in a moment of mental aberration
to seek Mr. Razumov on the strength of some old, utterly misinterpreted
exchange of ideas--some sort of idle speculative conversation--months
ago--I am told--and completely forgotten till now by Mr. Razumov."
"Mr. Razumov," queried the General meditatively, after a short silence,
"do you often indulge in speculative conversation?"
"No, Excellency," answered Razumov, coolly, in a sudden access of
self-confidence. "I am a man of deep convictions. Crude opinions are
in the air. They are not always worth combating. But even the silent
contempt of a serious mind may be misinterpreted by headlong utopists."
The General stared from between his hands. Prince K--- murmured--
"A serious young man. _Un esprit superieur_."
"I see that, _mon cher Prince_," said the General. "Mr. Razumov is quite
safe with me. I am interested in him. He has, it seems, the great and
useful quality of inspiring confidence. What I was wondering at is why
the other should mention anything at all--I mean even the bare fact
alone--if his object was only to obtain temporary shelter for a few
hours.
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