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Updated: June 12, 2025
He was crossing the Rue Mont Blanc with every appearance of an aimless stroller. He did not recognize me, but I made him out at some distance. He was very good-looking, I thought, this remarkable friend of Miss Haldin's brother. I watched him go up to the letter-box and then retrace his steps. Again he passed me very close, but I am certain he did not see me that time, either.
She lost the fortitude worthy of both the men, the dead and the living; the fortitude which should have been the note of the meeting of Victor Haldin's sister with Victor Haldin's only known friend. He was looking at her keenly, but said nothing, and she was she confessed painfully affected by his want of comprehension. All she could say was: "You are Mr. Razumov."
And it seemed to me as though there were some pity for me in Miss Haldin's prolonged glance. She stepped out a little quicker. "You ask for all the details. Let me see. I ought to remember them. It was novel enough for a a village girl like me." After a moment of silence she began by saying that the Chateau Borel was almost as neglected inside as outside.
He remained perfectly still for a moment, then made Razumov's leaden heart strike a ponderous blow by springing up briskly. "So be it," he cried sadly in a low, distinct tone. "Farewell then." Razumov started forward, but the sight of Haldin's raised hand checked him before he could get away from the table. He leaned on it heavily, listening to the faint sounds of some town clock tolling the hour.
Suppose you came to see us soon? We could talk it over. Any advice..." Again I did not catch Miss Haldin's words. It was Laspara's voice once more. "Peter Ivanovitch? He's retired for a moment into the other room. We are all waiting for him." The great man, entering at that moment, looked bigger, taller, quite imposing in a long dressing-gown of some dark stuff.
Wait till you have to sit at a table for a half a day with a pen in your hand. He can walk up and down his rooms for hours and hours. I used to get so stiff and numb that I was afraid I would lose my balance and fall off the chair all at once." She kept her hands folded in front of her, and her eyes, fixed on Miss Haldin's face, betrayed no animation whatever.
Her correspondent had discovered that fact quite accidentally from the talk of the people of the house, having made friends with a workman who occupied a room there. They described Haldin's appearance perfectly. He brought comforting words of hope into their misery.
He sat there scribbling by the light of a solitary candle, till it occurred to him that having heard the explanation of Haldin's arrest, as put forward by Sophia Antonovna, it behoved him to tell these ladies himself. They were certain to hear the tale through some other channel, and then his abstention would look strange, not only to the mother and sister of Haldin, but to other people also.
The blue sky was hard, but the young leaves clung like soft mist about the uninteresting range of trees; and the clear sun put little points of gold into the grey of Miss Haldin's frank eyes, turned to me with a friendly greeting. I inquired after the health of her mother. She had a slight movement of the shoulders and a little sad sigh.
Mr. de P -'s death was no longer an actuality, but the enterprising correspondent was proud of having ferreted out some unofficial information about that fact of modern history. He had got hold of Haldin's name, and had picked up the story of the midnight arrest in the street. But the sensation from a journalistic point of view was already well in the past.
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