No, decidedly; her expression was not unfriendly. Yet he perceived an
acceleration in the beat of his heart. The conversation could not be
abandoned at that point. He went on in accents of scrupulous inquiry--
"Is it perhaps because I don't seem to accept blindly every development
of the general doctrine--such for instance as the feminism of our great
Peter Ivanovitch? If that is what makes me suspect, then I can only say
I would scorn to be a slave even to an idea."
She had been looking at him all the time, not as a listener looks
at one, but as if the words he chose to say were only of secondary
interest. When he finished she slipped her hand, by a sudden and decided
movement, under his arm and impelled him gently towards the gate of the
grounds. He felt her firmness and obeyed the impulsion at once, just as
the other two men had, a moment before, obeyed unquestioningly the wave
of her hand.
They made a few steps like this.
"No, Razumov, your ideas are probably all right," she said. "You may be
valuable--very valuable. What's the matter with you is that you don't
like us."
She released him. He met her with a frosty smile.
"Am I expected then to have love as well as convictions?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"You know very well what I mean. People have been thinking you not quite
whole-hearted.
Pages:
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312