I have nothing
to think against. My tradition is historical. What have I to look back
to but that national past from which you gentlemen want to wrench away
your future? Am I to let my intelligence, my aspirations towards a
better lot, be robbed of the only thing it has to go upon at the will of
violent enthusiasts? You come from your province, but all this land is
mine--or I have nothing. No doubt you shall be looked upon as a martyr
some day--a sort of hero--a political saint. But I beg to be excused. I
am content in fitting myself to be a worker. And what can you people do
by scattering a few drops of blood on the snow? On this Immensity. On
this unhappy Immensity! I tell you," he cried, in a vibrating, subdued
voice, and advancing one step nearer the bed, "that what it needs is not
a lot of haunting phantoms that I could walk through--but a man!"
Haldin threw his arms forward as if to keep him off in horror.
"I understand it all now," he exclaimed, with awestruck dismay. "I
understand--at last."
Razumov staggered back against the table. His forehead broke out in
perspiration while a cold shudder ran down his spine.
"What have I been saying?" he asked himself. "Have I let him slip
through my fingers after all?"
"He felt his lips go stiff like buckram, and instead of a reassuring
smile only achieved an uncertain grimace.
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