"Pardon me," Razumov inquired coldly, "but does it mean that you, for
instance, think that I am not the right sort?"
She made no protest, gave no sign of having heard the question;
she continued looking at him in a manner which he judged not to be
absolutely unfriendly. In Zurich when he passed through she had taken
him under her charge, in a way, and was with him from morning till night
during his stay of two days. She took him round to see several people.
At first she talked to him a great deal and rather unreservedly, but
always avoiding all reference to herself; towards the middle of the
second day she fell silent, attending him zealously as before, and even
seeing him off at the railway station, where she pressed his hand firmly
through the lowered carriage window, and, stepping back without a word,
waited till the train moved. He had noticed that she was treated with
quiet regard. He knew nothing of her parentage, nothing of her private
history or political record; he judged her from his own private point of
view, as being a distinct danger in his path. "Judged" is not perhaps
the right word. It was more of a feeling, the summing up of slight
impressions aided by the discovery that he could not despise her as he
despised all the others. He had not expected to see her again so soon.
Pages:
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311