CHAPTER XIV.
UNDERGROUND MIROSLAV.
Pavel dined at the major's house. He was in high spirits, but the hourof his expected meeting with the girl of the Pievakin demonstration wasdrawing near, and his impatience was getting keener every minute. Hereached the place, a little house occupied by a government clerk namedOrlovsky and his mother, ahead of time.
"Your name is Boulatoff, is it not?" asked the host, his square Slavicnose curling up with the joy of his welcome. Then, crouching before theabsurdest looking samovar Pavel had ever seen, he explained that hismother had gone to his sister's for the night, as she did very often toavoid the noise of his gatherings. In the centre of a bare round tablelay an enormous loaf of rye bread and a great wedge of sugar, near whichstood an empty candy box, apparently used as a sugar bowl. Pavel divinedthat at least one-half of Orlovsky's salary was spent on the tea, breadand butter on which his guests regaled themselves while they talkedliberty.
"I'm only a private of the revolution," Orlovsky said, trying to blowtwo charcoals into flame until his face glowed like the coals and hiseyes looked bleared. "But if there is anything I can do command me." Athis instance the two addressed each other in the familiar diminutives oftheir Christian names--"Pasha" and "Aliosha." While Aliosha wasstruggling with his smoking samovar, Pasha set to work cutting up thesugar.
"Wait till you have seen our crowd," said Aliosha, flicking the openside of an old top-boot at the samovar by way of bellows. "I tell youMiroslav is destined to play a prominent part in the liberation ofRussia. We have some tip-top fellows and girls. Of course, we're mereprivates in the ranks of the revolution."
But Pavel's mind was on the speaker's sackcoat of checkered grey, whichwas so tight on him that his prominent thighs were bulging out and thegarment seemed on the point of bursting. The sight of it annoyed Pavelin the same way as Mme. Shubeyko's smile had done, and he asked Orlovskywhy he should not unbutton himself, to which the other answered, half injest, half in earnest, that he was getting so fat that he was beginningto look "like a veritable bourgeois, deuce take it."
"But it makes a fellow uncomfortable to look at you," Pavel shouted,irascibly.
"Ah, but that's a question of personal liberty, old man," Orlovskyreturned in all seriousness. "What right have you, for instance, toimpose upon me rules as to how I am to wear my coat?"
"That right which limits the liberty of one man by the liberty of othermen. But this is all foolishness, Aliosha. Upon my word it is. The daysof hair-splitting are dead and buried. There is plenty of work todo--living, practical work."
Orlovsky leaped up from his samovar, a fishy look in his eye, andgrasping Pavel's hand he pressed it hard and long. Pavel felt in thepresence of the most provincial Nihilism he had ever come across.
Other members of the Circle came. They all knew the governor's nephewby sight. Also that he was "a sympathiser," yet his presence here was astirring surprise to most of them, although they strove to conceal it.One man, Orlovsky's immediate superior in office, shook Pavel's handwith a grimace which seemed to say: "You're Prince Boulatoff and I amonly an ordinary government official, but then all titles and ranks willsoon go to smash." A Jewish gymnasium boy with two bubbling beads foreyes made Pavel's acquaintance with a preoccupied air, as if in a hurryto get down to more important business. His small, deep-seated eyesspurted either merriment or gloom. Elkin had said there was not enoughof them to make one decent-sized eye, and dubbed him "Cyclops," whichhad since been the boy's revolutionary nickname.
Orlovsky's superior had a vast snow-white forehead that gave his face aluminous, aureole-lit effect, but he was an incurable liar. He was oneof the most devoted members of the Circle, however, and recently he hadsold all his real estate, turning over the proceeds to the party. As heseated himself a telegraph operator in a dazzling uniform sat down byhis side, saying, in a whisper:
"That was an affected look of yours a moment ago."
"When? What are you talking about?" the man with the sainted foreheadasked, colouring.
"You know what. You made a face as if you were not glad to seeBoulatoff. You know you were, weren't you, now?"
"I confess I was."
"Now I like you, old boy. All that is necessary is to take one's self inhand. Nothing like self-chastisement."
"Cyclops" bent over to an army captain with a pair of grandioseside-whiskers and said something in order to hear himself address aGentile and an army officer in the familiar "thou." Another young Jew, ared-headed gymnasium boy named Ginsburg, sat close to the lamp, readinga book with near-sighted eyes, the yellow light playing on hisshort-clipped red hair. His father was a notorious usurer and the chiefgo-between in the governor's bribe-taking and money-lendingtransactions. Young Ginsburg robbed his father industriously, dedicatingthe spoils to the socialist movement.
* * * * *
The expectation that that hazy, featureless image which had resided inhis mind for the past five years would soon stand forth in the flesh andwith the mist lifted made Pavel restless. When a girl with short hairand very sparse teeth told him that Clara Yavner was sure to be aroundin less than fifteen minutes, his heart began to throb. The girl's namewas Olga Alexandrovna Andronova (Andronoff). She was accompanied by herfiance, a local judge--a middle-aged man with a mass of fluffy hair. Thejudge was perceptibly near-sighted, like Ginsburg, only when he screwedup his eyes he looked angry, whereas the short-sightedness of thered-headed young man had a beseeching effect. The two girls were greatfriends, and Olga spoke of her chum in terms of persuasive enthusiasm.That Boulatoff had special reasons to be interested in Clara Yavner shewas not aware.
"What has become of her?" she said, looking at the door impatiently.
"You are adding fuel to my curiosity, Olga Alexandrovna," Pavel said. "Iam beginning to feel somewhat as I once did in the opera, when I waswaiting to see Patti for the first time."
"And when she came out you were not disappointed, were you?" Olgaasked, exposing her sparse teeth in a broad, honest smile.
"No," he laughed.
"Well, neither will you be this time."
Pavel said to himself humorously: "I am so excited I am afraid I shallfall in love with that girl. But then predictions seldom come true."Then he added: "And now that I predict it won't, it will."
* * * * *
When she came at last he said inwardly: "That's what she looks like,then! She certainly does not seem to be a fool whatever else she maybe." That was what people usually said upon their first meeting withher: "She seems to be no fool." She was a fair-complexioned Jewish girlof good height. To those unfamiliar with the many types of her race shemight have looked Teutonic. To her own people her face wascharacteristically Jewish, of the blond, hazel-eyed variety. It was arather small face, round and with a slightly flattened effect betweeneyes and mouth that aroused interest. Her good looks were due to apeculiar impression of intelligence and character to which this effectcontributed and to the picturesqueness of her colouring--healthy whiteflesh, clear and firm, set off by an ample crown of fair hair andilluminated by the brown light of intense hazel eyes. She had with her atwo-year-old little girl, her sister's, and accompanying the two wasElkin, from whose manner as he entered the crowded room it was easy tosee, first, that he had told Mlle. Yavner of the revolutionary "general"he was going to introduce her to; second, that he was the leader of theCircle and the connecting link between it and revolutionary generals.
"I tried to steal away from her," she said to Olga, meaning the littlegirl, "but she ran after us and filled the streets with her cries." Shesmiled--an embarrassed smile which made her intelligent face look stillmore intelligent.
When Boulatoff was introduced to her, by Elkin, she blushed slightly. Hewatched her with keen curiosity. At the same time the judge's fianceewas watching him, in the fond hope that he would indorse her opinion ofher friend. When Clara averted her face, while speaking to somebody, herfeatures became blurred in Pave
l's mind, and he sought another look ather. Whether Elkin had told her of the effect her "speech" during thePievakin scene had had on him he had no knowledge.
Some of the men in the gathering made a point of ignoring the littleprivileges of the sex, treating the girls "as human beings, not asdolls," but Clara and Olga made a joke of it. When Orlovsky offered thejudge's fiancee a chair next to Clara's she thanked him much as an"unemancipated" girl would have done; whereupon Mlle. Yavner shook herfinger at her, saying merrily:
"You're getting conservative, Olga. You had better look out."
The Circle was a loose, informal organisation. There were no fixed rulesor ceremonies for the admission of members nor anything like regularlyelected officers. Nor, indeed, did the members practise formal communismamong themselves, although the property of one was to a considerableextent the property of all.
The gathering to-night was naturally larger than usual, owing to thegreat news of the day. No one except Pavel knew anything about thearrested man, each wondering whether the others did. To betrayinquisitiveness, however, would have been unconspiratorlike, so as theysat about, whispering, in twos or threes, they were at once trying tosuppress their curiosity and to draw each other out.
The telegraph operator and Orlovsky's superior left early in theevening, but there soon came two other members, a sergeant of thecaptain's command and a gawky seminarist with a trick of drawing in hisneck and throwing out his Adam's apple when he laughed.
The sergeant took a seat beside his officer and the two fell intoconversation about their regiment, while the theological student at onceset to plying Pavel with questions. Elkin, in an embroideredLittle-Russian shirt, sat smoking a pipe and smiling non-committally.Every little while he would remove the pipe from his mouth, take a gravelook at the theologian and resume his pipe and his smile.
The little girl sat on the captain's lap, quietly playing with his sworduntil she fell asleep. When Clara beheld the officer struggling to keephis luxurious side-whiskers from waking the child, she took her niece inher arms and carried her, with noiseless kisses, toward the door.
"I'll soon be back. It isn't far," she whispered to Orlovsky, declininghis assistance.
The men followed her out of the room with fond glances. More than halfof them were in love with her.
When she got back, somewhat short of breath, Boulatoff was describingthe general feeling in the universities and among working people. Histalk was vague. His rolling baritone rang dry. And now his grip on thesubject was weakened still further by the reappearance of the girl inwhom, during the first few minutes, he instinctively felt a rival centreof interest. No sooner, however, had the seminarist attacked the partypress than the prince became furious and made a favourable impression.Once or twice he fell into Zachar's manner and even used several of hisarguments. The seminarist urged his objections chiefly because he wantedto prove to himself and to the others that he was a man of convictionsand not one to quail before a revolutionary "general." But Pavel tookhim seriously. Once when the seminarist attempted to interrupt him,Clara said, forlornly:
"He's bound to be right. He's just bound to be right."
"Don't cry," said Cyclops. Several of the men laughed, and when Clarajoined them their eyes betrayed her power over them. Nothing betraysyour feelings toward another person more surely than the way you takehis merriment.
The most important topic of the evening was a circular letter from theExecutive Committee of the Will of the People, as Pavel's party wascalled, as to the "preparatory work" that was to pave the way to a finaluprising. The discussion was left to the judge, Elkin and Pavel. Thegawky seminarist was silent, with an angry air which implied that thearguments one was compelled to follow here were exasperatingly beneathone's criticism. The others listened spellbound, though some of themscarcely felt convinced. Ingrained in the consciousness of these was theidea of an abstract elemental giant, tremendous and immutable as thenorthern winter, of which the blind forces of the army were only apersonified detail. That this giant should some day, in the near future,cease to be did not clearly appeal to their imagination. The boldness,therefore, with which the judge and Pavel spoke of these things greatlyenhanced the fascination of their speeches.
Cyclops, a huge slice of rye bread in his hand, evidently had somethingto say, but did not know how. He was quoting history, blushing,sputtering, swallowing his own tongue, and finally he lost himself in ajumble of words. Elkin was just the reverse. He was so calm, so glib andso lucid of phrase that as long as his speech lasted one wasinvoluntarily nodding assent; yet when it was over one did not seem toknow exactly what he had said or whether he had had anything to say atall. At one point he and the judge locked horns and fought long and hardwithout clearly understanding each other, until they proved to bearguing on the same side of the issue. Orlovsky, who took it for grantedthat the theoretical discussion was beyond his mental powers, looked onwith stupid admiration. "Here is a bunch of cracks for you!" his beamingface seemed to say.
In the course of a pause Clara whispered something to Olga.
"Why don't you ask it then?" the short-haired girl answered, aloud.
Clara turned pale, as she began to speak. She went straight to thepoint, however, and presently cast off all restraint.
"All this is very well," she said, referring to a certain passage in thecircular letter, "provided the local authorities really desert thethrone. But suppose they don't, suppose they prove to be hardenedconservatives, devoted slaves of the crown? It seems to me as if we wereinclined to take things for granted--counting without the host, as itwere."
"Devoted to the crown!" said the gawky theologian. "The fact is that thehigh officials are a mere lot of self-seeking curs."
"Exactly," Pavel thundered, bringing his hands togetherenthusiastically.
Elkin removed the pipe from his mouth and bawled out: "Rats rather thancurs, I should say; rats that are sure to forsake the ship of state themoment it shows signs of danger."
The seminarist was annoyed at this attempt to steal the applause fromhim, but Boulatoff did not like Elkin's manner and offered him noencouragement. This disarmed the seminarist's opposition. From thismoment on he listened to Pavel with friendly nods, as who should say:"Now you are hitting it; now you are talking sense!"
"Of course," Pavel resumed, "the pamphlet means we should keep agitatinguntil we are sure of our ground. There is a large liberal-minded classthat does not stir merely because it is made up of a lot of cowards.These fellows will rally around our banner the moment the governmentbegins to totter. As to the bureaucracy, it is so decayed, soworm-eaten, that all it knows at present is how to bend double for anincrease of salary or promotion in rank. A lot of back-bonelessflunkeys, that's what they are. You don't actually think they serve theCzar from principle?" he asked, addressing himself to Mlle. Yavner.
"The only principle they care for," Elkin interposed, "is, 'To the devilwith all principles!'"
"Exactly," Pavel assented, with some irritation.
"Yes," the seminarist chimed in, "and when they hear the tocsin ofLiberty, Equality and Fraternity--"
"Liberty, Equality and Fiddlesticks!" Clara mimicked him, mildly,signing to him not to interrupt the speaker.
Pavel went on. He spoke at length, looking mostly at her. He was makingan effort to convince her that in the event of a revolution the highofficials would turn cowards, and her face seemed to be saying: "He'sthe nephew of a governor, so he ought to know."
When the yard windows were thrown open the bewhiskered captain sat downto the piano and struck up an old national tune, to the accompaniment oftwo male voices. The others continued their talk under cover of themusic. Pavel made up his mind that the judge and Clara were the mostlevel-headed members of the Circle, and decided to seek theircooperation in the business which had brought him to Miroslav. Only thejudge was the more reposeful of the two, as well as incomparably thebetter informed. As a rule he was absorbed in his own logic, while Mlle.Yavner was jarred by every false no
te in others, nervously sensitive toall that went on about her, so that when Cyclops, for example, gottangled in his own verbosity her eyes would cloud up with vexation andshe would come to his rescue, summing up his argument in a few clear,unobtrusive sentences. There was a glow of enthusiasm in her look whichshe was apparently struggling to suppress. Indeed, she was struggling tosuppress some feeling or other most of the time. Her outward calm seemedto cover an interior of restlessness.
Pavel's unbounded faith in the party instilled new faith into her. Thegreat point was that he was a member of the aristocracy. If a man likehim had his whole heart in the struggle, the movement was certainly notwithout foundation. Moreover, Boulatoff was close to the revolutionarycentre, and he obviously spoke from personal knowledge. All sorts ofquestions worried her, many of which were answered at the presentgathering, partly by herself, partly by others. The new era, when therewould be neither poverty nor oppression, the enchanted era which had wonher heart, loomed clearer than ever. At one moment as she sat listening,her blond hair gleaming golden in the lamplight, her face lit up by alook of keen intelligence, Pavel said to himself: "And this Jewish girlis the one who had the feeling and the courage to make that rumpus overPievakin! If I became a revolutionist it was the result of gradualdevelopment, through the help of conditions, books, people; whereas thisgirl acted like one, and in the teeth of grave danger, too, purely onthe spur of the moment and long before she knew there was any such thingas a revolutionary movement; acted like one while I was still a blind,hard-hearted milksop of a drone." In the capital he knew a number ofgirls who were continually taking their lives in their hands and severalof whom were like so many saints to him, but then Mlle. Yavner belongedto the realm of his home and his boyhood. What he regarded as an act ofheroism on her part was hallowed by that sense of special familiarityand comprehensibility which clings to things like the old well thatwitnessed our childish games.
She made a very favourable impression on him. If he had been a formalcandidate for her hand, come "bride-seeing," he could not have studiedher more closely than he did now. Indeed, so absorbed was he in her thatonce while she was speaking to him laughingly her words fell on a deafear because at that moment he was remarking to himself: "She laughs in alittle rising scale, breaking off in a rocket."
"There must be something in her, then," he thought "which was the sourceof that noble feeling and of that courage." He took to scanning herafresh, as though looking for a reflection of that something in herface, and as he looked at her and thought of the Pievakin"demonstration" it gave him pleasure to exaggerate her instrumentalityin his own political regeneration.
Olga had relieved her fiance at the piano, and later on when she, too,rose from the keyboard, Clara eagerly took her place. There was no lifein Mlle. Yavner's tones, but the impassioned sway of her head and formas she played told of a soul touched with ecstasy; told of the musicwhich her fingers failed to evoke from the instrument. And the eyes ofhalf a dozen love-stricken men added their rapture to the sounds.
Pavel listened to her melody and breathed the scented night air thatcame in from the little garden in the yard. He reflected that Claramight visit the warden's house as a piano teacher. At this it came hometo him that Makar was in prison, and that unless he escaped he was alost man. He was seized with terror. The piano sang of a lonely ship,blue waves, and a starlit night, but to Pavel it spoke of his imprisonedfriend and his own anguish. He joined in the chorus with ferociousardour. His heart was crying for Makar's liberation and for a thousandother things. When she left the piano stool he leaped up to her.
"Allow me to grasp your hand, Clara Rodionovna," he said, as thoughthanking her for the merit of her playing. And then, all unmindful ofcomment, he drew her into a secluded corner and said vehemently:
"I wish also to tell you, Clara Rodionovna, that I have a special reasonto be glad of knowing you; for if I have a right to be among good peopleit is you whom I have to thank for it." A thick splash of crimson cameinto her face; but before she had time to put her surprise into words,he poured forth the story of his awakening and how he had all these fiveyears been looking forward to a meeting with her. As he spoke his facebore an expression of ecstatic, almost amorous grimness. The girl wastaken by storm. She was literally dazed. An overwhelming, unspokenintimacy established itself between them on the spot.
Olga's face was a blend of beaming triumph and tense perplexity. The menwere making an effort to treat Boulatoff's sally with discretion, as ifit were a bit of revolutionary conspiracy and they knew enough to mindtheir own business.
The White Terror and The Red: A Novel of Revolutionary Russia Page 15
