IV
It is impossible to explain how disturbed I was by Nina's news. Semyonovliving in the flat! He must have some very strong reason for this, toleave his big comfortable flat for the pokiness of the Markovitches'!
And then that the Markovitches should have him! There were alreadyinhabitants enough--Nicholas, Vera, Nina, Uncle Ivan, Bohun. Then theinconvenience and discomfort of Nicholas's little hole as a bedroom! HowSemyonov must loathe it!
From that moment the Markovitches' flat became for me the centre of mydrama. Looking back I could see now how all the growing development ofthe story had centred round those rooms. I did not of course know atthis time of that final drama of the Thursday afternoon, but I knew ofthe adventure with the policeman, and it seemed to me that the flat wasa cup into which the ingredients were being poured one after anotheruntil at last the preparation would be complete, and then....
Oh, but I cared for Nina and Vera and Nicholas--yes, and Jerry too! Iwanted to see them happy and at peace before I left them--in especialNicholas.
And Semyonov came closer to them and closer, following some plan of hisown and yet, after all, finally like a man driven by a power,constructed it might be, out of his own very irony.
I made a kind of bet with fate that by Easter Day every one should behappy by then.
Next day, the 15th of April, was the great funeral for the victims ofthe Revolution. I believe, although of course at that time I had heardnothing, that there had been great speculation about the day, manypeople thinking that it would be an excuse for further trouble, theMonarchists rising, or the "Soviet" attacking the ProvisionalGovernment, or Milyukoff and his followers attacking the Soviet. Theyneed not have been alarmed. No one had as yet realised the lengths thatSlavonic apathy may permit itself....
I went down about half-past ten to the Square at the end of the Sadovayaand found it filled with a vast concourse of peasants, not only theSquare was filled, but the Sadovaya as far as the eye could see. Theywere arranged in perfect order, about eight in a row, arm in arm. Everygroup carried its banner, and far away into the distance one could seethe words "Freedom," "Brotherhood," "The Land for All," "Peace of theWorld," floating on the breeze. Nevertheless, in spite of these finewords, it was not a very cheering sight. The day was wretched--no actualrain, but a cold damp wind blowing and the dirty snow, half ice and halfwater; the people themselves were not inspiring. They were all, itseemed, peasants. I saw very few workmen, although I believe thatmultitudes were actually in the procession. Those strange, pale, Easternfaces, passive, apathetic, ignorant, childish, unreasoning, stretched ina great cloud under the grey overhanging canopy of the sky. They raisedif once and again a melancholy little tune that was more wail thananything else. They had stood there, I was told, in pools of frozenwater for hours, and were perfectly ready to stand thus for many hoursmore if they were ordered to do so. As I regarded their ignorance andapathy I realised for the first time something of what the Revolutionhad already done.
A hundred million of these children--ignorant, greedy, pathetic,helpless, revengeful--let loose upon the world! Where were theirleaders? Who, indeed, would their leaders be? The sun sometimes brokethrough for a moment, but the light that it threw on their faces onlymade them more pallid, more death-like. They did not laugh nor joke asour people at home would have done.... I believe that very few of themhad any idea why they were there....
Suddenly the word came down the lines to move forward. Very slowly,wailing their little tune, they advanced.
But the morning was growing old and I must at once see Vera. I had madeup my mind, during the night, to do anything that lay in my power topersuade Vera and Nina to leave their flat. The flat was the root of alltheir trouble, there was something in its atmosphere, something gloomyand ominous. They would be better at the other end of the town, or,perhaps, over on the Vassily Ostrov. I would show Vera that it was afatal plan to have Semyonov to live with them (as in all probability sheherself knew well enough), and their leaving the flat was a very goodexcuse for getting rid of him. I had all this in my head as I wentalong. I was still feeling ill and feeble, and my half-hour's stand inthe market-place had seriously exhausted me. I had to lean against thewalls of the houses every now and then; it seemed to me that, in thepale watery air, the whole world was a dream, the high forbiding flatslooking down on to the dirty ice of the canals, the water dripping,dripping, dripping.... No one was about. Every one had gone to join inthe procession. I could see it, with my mind's eye, unwinding its hugetails through the watery-oozing channels of the town, like somepale-coloured snake, crawling through the misty labyrinths of a marsh.
In the flat I found only Uncle Ivan sitting very happily by himself atthe table playing patience. He was dressed very smartly in his Englishblack suit and a black bow tie. He behaved with his usual elaboratecourtesy to me but, to my relief, on this occasion, he spoke Russian.
It appeared that the Revolution had not upset him in the least. He took,he assured me, no interest whatever in politics. The great thing was "tolive inside oneself," and by living inside oneself he meant, I gathered,that one should be entirely selfish. Clothes were important, and foodand courteous manners, but he must say that he could not see that onewould be very much worse off even though one were ruled by theGermans--one might, indeed, be a great deal more comfortable. And as tothis Revolution he couldn't really understand why people made such afuss. One class or another class what did it matter? (As to this he was,I fear, to be sadly undeceived. He little knew that, before the year wasout, he would be shovelling snow in the Morskaia for a rouble an hour.)So centred was he upon himself that he did not notice that I looked ill.He offered me a chair, indeed, but that was simply his courteousmanners. Very ridiculous, he thought, the fuss that Nicholas made aboutthe Revolution--very ridiculous the fuss that he made abouteverything....
Alexei had been showing Nicholas how ridiculous he was.
"Oh, has he?" said I. "How's he been doing that?"
Laughing at him, apparently. They all laughed at him. It was his ownfault.
"Alexei's living with us now, you know."
"Yes, I know," I said, "what's he doing that for?"
"He wanted to," said Uncle Ivan simply. "He's always done what he'swanted to, all his life."
"It makes it a great many of you in one small flat."
"Yes, doesn't it?" said Uncle Ivan amiably. "Very pleasant--although,Ivan Andreievitch, I will admit to you quite frankly that I've alwaysbeen frightened of Alexei. He has such a very sharp tongue. He discoversone's weak spots in a marvellous manner.... We all have weak spots youknow," he added apologetically.
"Yes, we have," I said.
Then, to my relief, Vera came in. She was very sweet to me, expressingmuch concern about my illness, asking me to stay and have my meal withthem.... She suddenly broke off. There was a letter lying on the tableaddressed to her. I saw at once that it was in Nina's handwriting.
"Nina! Writing to _me_!" She picked it up, stood back looking at theenvelope before she opened it. She read it, then turned on me with acry.
"Nina!... She's gone!"
"Gone!" I repeated, starting at once.
"Yes.... Read!" She thrust it into my hand.
In Nina's sprawling schoolgirl hand I read:
Dear Vera--I've left you and Nicholas for ever.... I have been thinkingof this for a long time, and now Uncle Alexei has shown me how foolishI've been, wanting something I can't have. But I'm not a child anylonger. I must lead my own life.... I'm going to live with Boris whowill take care of me. It's no use you or any one trying to prevent me. Iwill not come back. I must lead my own life now. Nina.
Vera was beside herself.
"Quick! Quick! Some one must go after her. She must be brought back atonce. Quick! _Scora! Scora_!... I must go. No, she is angry with me. Shewon't listen to me. Ivan Andreievitch, you must go. At once! You mustbring her back with you. Darling, darling Nina!... Oh, my God, whatshall I do if anything happens to her!"
&nb
sp; She clutched my arm. Even as she spoke, she had got my hat and stick.
"This is Alexei Petrovitch," I said.
"Never mind who it is," she answered. "She must be brought back at once.She is so young. She doesn't know.... Boris--Oh! it's impossible. Don'tleave without bringing her back with you."
Even old Uncle Ivan seemed distressed.
"Dear, dear..." he kept repeating, "dear, dear.... Poor little Nina.Poor little Nina--"
"Where does Grogoff live?" I asked.
"16 Gagarinskaya.... Flat 3. Quick. You must bring her back with you.Promise me."
"I will do my best," I said.
I found by a miracle of good fortune an Isvostchick in the streetoutside. We plunged along through the pools of water in the direction ofthe Gagarinskaya. That was a horrible drive. In the Sadovaya we met theslow, winding funeral procession.
On they went, arm in arm, the same little wailing tune, monotonouslyrepeating, but sounding like nothing human, rather exuding from the verycobbles of the road and the waters of the stagnant canals.
The march of the peasants upon Petrograd! I could see them from all thequarters of the town, converging upon the Marsovoie Pole, stubborn,silent, wraiths of earlier civilisation, omens of later dominations. Ithought of Boris Grogoff. What did he, with all his vehemence andconceit, intend to do with these? First he would flatter them--I sawthat clearly enough. But then when his flatteries failed, what then?Could he control them? Would they obey him? Would they obey anybodyuntil education had shown them the necessities for co-ordination andself-discipline? The river at last was overflowing its banks--would notthe savage force of its power be greater than any one could calculate?The stream flowed on.... My Isvostchick took his cab down a side street,and then again met the strange sorrowful company. From this point Icould see several further bridges and streets, and over them all I sawthe same stream flowing, the same banners blowing--and all so still, sodumb, so patient.
The delay was maddening. My thoughts were all now on Nina. I saw heralways before me as I had beheld her yesterday, walking slowly along,her eyes fixed on space, the tears trickling down her face. "Life,"Nikitin once said to me, "I sometimes think is like a dark room, thedoor closed, the windows bolted and your enemy shut in with you. Whetheryour enemy or yourself is the stronger who knows?... Nor does it matter,as the issue is always decided outside.... Knowing that you can at leastafford to despise him."
I felt something of that impotence now. I cursed the Isvostchick, butwherever he went this slow endless stream seemed to impede our way. PoorNina! Such a baby! What was it that had driven her to this? She did notlove the man, and she knew quite well that she did not. No, it was anact of defiance. But defiance to whom--to Vera? to Lawrence?... andwhat had Semyonov said to her?
Then, thank Heaven, we crossed the Nevski, and our way was clear. Theold cabman whipped up his horse and, in a minute or two we were outside16 Gagarinskaya. I will confess to very real fears and hesitations as Iclimbed the dark stairs (the lift was, of course, not working). I wasnot the kind of man for this kind of job. In the first place I hatedquarrels, and knowing Grogoff's hot temper I had every reason to expecta tempestuous interview. Then I was ill, aching in every limb and seeingeverything, as I always did when I was unwell, mistily and withuncertainty. Then I had a very shrewd suspicion that there wasconsiderable truth in what Semyonov had said, that I was interfering inwhat only remotely concerned me. At any rate, that was certainly theview that Grogoff would take, and Nina, perhaps also. I felt, as I rangthe bell of No. 3, that unpleasant pain in the pit of the stomach thattells you that you're going to make a fool of yourself.
Well, it would not be for the first time.
"Boris Nicolaievitch, _doma_?" I asked the cross-looking old woman whoopened the door.
"_Doma_," she answered, holding it open to let me pass.
I was shown into a dark, untidy sitting-room. It seemed at first sightto be littered with papers, newspapers, Revolutionary sheets andproclamations, the _Pravda_, the _Novaya Jezn_, the _SoldatskayaMwyssl_.... On the dirty wall-paper there were enormous darkphotographs, in faded gilt frames, of family groups; on one wall therewas a large garishly coloured picture of Grogoff himself in student'sdress. The stove was unlighted and the room was very cold. My heartached for Nina.
A moment after Grogoff came in. He came forward to me very amiably,holding out his hand.
"Nu, Ivan Andreievitch.... What can I do for you?" he asked, smiling.
And how he had changed! He was positively swollen withself-satisfaction. He had never been famous for personal modesty, but heseemed now to be physically twice his normal size. He was fat, hischeeks puffed, his stomach swelling beneath the belt that bound it. Hisfair hair was long, and rolled in large curls on one side of his headand over his forehead. He spoke in a loud, overbearing voice.
"Nu, Ivan Andreievitch, what can I do for you?" he repeated.
"Can I see Nina?" I asked.
"Nina?..." he repeated as though surprised. "Certainly--but what do youwant to say to her?"
"I don't see that that's your business," I answered. "I have a messagefor her from her family."
"But of course it's my business," he answered. "I'm looking after hernow."
"Since when?" I asked.
"What does that matter?... She is going to live with me."
"We'll see about that," I said.
I knew that it was foolish to take this kind of tone. It could do nogood, and I was not the sort of man to carry it through.
But he was not at all annoyed.
"See, Ivan Andreievitch," he said, smiling. "What is there to discuss?Nina and I have long considered living together. She is a grown-upwoman. It's no one's affair but her own."
"Are you going to marry her?" I asked.
"Certainly not," he answered; "that would not suit either of us. It'sno good your bringing your English ideas here, Ivan Andreievitch. Webelong to the new world, Nina and I."
"Well, I want to speak to her," I answered.
"So you shall, certainly. But if you hope to influence her at all youare wasting your time, I assure you. Nina has acted very rightly. Shefound the home life impossible. I'm sure I don't wonder. She will assistme in my work. The most important work, perhaps, that man has ever beencalled on to perform...."
He raised his voice here as though he were going to begin a speech. Butat that moment Nina came in. She stood in the doorway looking across atme with a childish mixture of hesitation and boldness, of anger andgoodwill in her face. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes heavy. Her hair wasdone in two long plaits. She looked about fourteen.
She came up to me, but she didn't offer me her hand. Boris said:
"Nina dear, Ivan Andreievitch has come to give you a message from yourfamily." There was a note of scorn in his voice as he repeated myearlier sentence.
"What is it?" she asked, looking at me defiantly.
"I'd like to give it you alone," I said.
"Whatever you say to me it is right that Boris should hear," sheanswered.
I tried to forget that Grogoff was there. I went on:
"Well then, Nina, you must know what I want to say. They are heartbrokenat your leaving them. You know of course that they are. They beg you tocome back.... Vera and Nicholas too. They simply won't know what to dowithout you. Vera says that you have been angry with her. She doesn'tknow why, but she says that she will do her very best if you come back,so that you won't be angry any more.... Nina, dear, you know that it isthey whom you really love. You never can be happy here. You know thatyou cannot.... Come back to them! Come back! I don't know what it wasthat Alexei Petrovitch said to you, but whatever it was you should notlisten to it. He is a bad man and only means harm to your family. Hedoes indeed...."
I paused. She had never moved whilst I was speaking. Now she only said,shaking her head, "It's no good, Ivan Andreievitch.... It's no good."
"But why? Why?" I asked. "Give me your reasons, Nina."
She answered proudly, "I
don't see why I should give you any reasons,Ivan Andreievitch. I am free. I can do as I wish."
"There's something behind this that I don't know," I said. "I ought toknow.... It isn't fair not to tell me. What did Alexei Petrovitch say toyou?"
But she only shook her head.
"He had nothing to do with this. It is my affair, Ivan Andreievitch. Icouldn't live with Vera and Nicholas any longer."
Grogoff then interfered.
"I think this is about enough...." he said. "I have given you youropportunity. Nina has been quite clear in what she has said. She doesnot wish to return. There is your answer." He cleared his voice and wenton in rather a higher tone: "I think you forget, Ivan Andreievitch,another aspect of this affair. It is not only a question of our privatefamily disputes. Nina has come here to assist me in my national work. Asa member of the Soviet I may, without exaggeration, claim to have anopportunity in my hands that has been offered in the past to few humanbeings. You are an Englishman, and so hidebound with prejudices andconventions. You may not be aware that there has opened this week thegreatest war the world has ever seen--the war of the proletariatsagainst the bourgeoisies and capitalists of the world." I tried tointerrupt him, but he went on, his voice ever rising and rising: "Whatis your wretched German war? What but a struggle between the capitalistsof the different countries to secure greater robberies and extortions,to set their feet more firmly than ever on the broad necks of thewretched People! Yes, you English, with your natural hypocrisy, pretendthat you are fighting for the freedom of the world. What about Ireland?What about India? What about South Africa?... No, you are all alike.Germany, England, Italy, France, and our own wretched Government thathas, at last, been destroyed by the brave will of the People. We declarea People's War!... We cry aloud to the People to throw down their arms!And the People will hear us!"
He paused for breath. His arms were raised, his eyes on fire, his cheekscrimson.
"Yes," I said, "that is all very well. But suppose the German people arethe only ones who refuse to listen to you. Suppose that all the othernations, save Germany, have thrown down their arms--a nice chance thenfor German militarism!"
"But the German people will listen!" he screamed, almost frothing at themouth. "They are ready at any moment to follow our example. William andyour George and the rest of them--they are doomed, I tell you!"
"Nevertheless," I went on, "if you desert us now by making peace andGermany wins this war you will have played only a traitor's part, andall the world will judge you."
"Traitor! Traitor!" The word seemed to madden him. "Traitor to whom,pray? Traitor to our Czar and your English king? Yes, and thank God forit! Did the Russian people make the war? They were led like lambs to theslaughter. Like lambs, I tell you. But now they will have their revenge.On all the Bourgeoisie of the world. The Bourgeoisie of the world!..."
He suddenly broke off, flinging himself down on the dirty sofa. "Pheugh.Talking makes one hot!... Have a drink, Ivan Andreievitch.... Nina,fetch a drink."
Through all this my eyes had never left her for a moment. I had hopedthat this empty tub-thumping to which we had been listening would haveaffected her. But she had not moved nor stirred.
"Nina!" I said softly. "Nina. Come with me!"
But she only shook her head. Grogoff, quite silent now, lolled on thesofa, watching us. I went up to her and put my hand on her sleeve.
"Dear Nina," I said, "come back to us."
I saw her lip tremble. There was unshed tears in her eyes. But again sheshook her head.
"What have they done," I asked, "to make you take this step?"
"Something has happened...." she said slowly. "I can't tell you."
"Just come and talk to Vera."
"No, it's hopeless... I can't see her again. But, Durdles... tell herit's not her fault."
At the sound of my pet name I took courage again.
"But tell me, Nina.... Do you love this man?"
She turned round and looked at Grogoff as though she were seeing him forthe first time.
"Love?... Oh no, not love! But he will be kind to me, I think. And Imust be myself, be a woman, not a child any longer."
Then, suddenly clearing her voice, speaking very firmly, looking me fullin the face, she said:
"Tell Vera... that I saw... what happened that Thursday afternoon--theThursday of the Revolution week. Tell her that--when you're alone withher. Tell her that--then she'll understand."
She turned and almost ran out of the room.
"Well, you see," said Grogoff smiling lazily from the sofa.
"That settles it."
"It doesn't settle it," I answered. "We shall never rest until we havegot her back."
But, I had to go. There was nothing more just then to be done.
The Secret City Page 40
