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Updated: May 29, 2025
Only, in their case it is more pitiful because they cannot make a revolution. I used to be a Republican. I suppose you are a Republican?" Miss Haldin confessed to me that she did not know what to say. But she nodded slightly, and asked in her turn "And are you no longer a Republican?" "After taking down Peter Ivanovitch from dictation for two years, it is difficult for me to be anything.
Then by a mighty effort of will it came back because he was afraid of fainting in the street and being picked up by the police with the key of his lodgings in his pocket. They would find Haldin there, and then, indeed, he would be undone. Strangely enough it was this fear which seems to have kept him up to the end. The passers-by were rare.
The features of Miss Haldin expressed a painful irresolution; she made a movement as if to go in, but checked herself. She had heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It came open, and Razumov, without pausing, stepped out into the ante-room.
Her immobility in the great arm-chair in front of the window had an air of expectancy, even when the blind was down and the lamps lighted. For my part, I was convinced that she had received her death-stroke; Miss Haldin, to whom, of course, I said nothing of my forebodings, thought that no good would come from introducing Mr. Razumov just then, an opinion which I shared fully.
I did not conceal my feeling that these were strange times to talk of concord. Nathalie Haldin surprised me by saying, as if she had thought very much on the subject, that the occidentals did not understand the situation. She was very calm and youthfully superior. "You think it is a class conflict, or a conflict of interests, as social contests are with you in Europe. But it is not that at all.
The convulsive, uncontrolled tone of the last words disclosed the precarious hold he had over himself. He was like a man defying his own dizziness in high places and tottering suddenly on the very edge of the precipice. Miss Haldin pressed her hand to her breast. The dropped black veil lay on the floor between them. Her movement steadied him.
Miss Haldin hastened to assure her that, on the contrary, she was very much interested in the story of the journeyman lithographer. He was a revolutionist, of course. "A martyr, a simple man," said the dame de compangnie, with a faint sigh, and gazing through the open front door dreamily. She turned her misty brown eyes on Miss Haldin. "I lived with him for four months. It was like a nightmare."
"And even my person, too, is loathsome to you perhaps," Haldin added mournfully, after a short pause, looking up for a moment, then fixing his gaze on the floor. "For indeed, unless one...." He broke off evidently waiting for a word. Razumov remained silent. Haldin nodded his head dejectedly twice. "Of course. Of course," he murmured.... "Ah! weary work!"
He did not allot to it more than twenty lines out of a full column. It was quite enough to give me a sleepless night. I perceived that it would have been a sort of treason to let Miss Haldin come without preparation upon that journalistic discovery which would infallibly be reproduced on the morrow by French and Swiss newspapers.
She had heard enough of our conversation before we left to know why her young mistress was going out. Therefore, when the gentleman gave his name at the door, she admitted him at once. "No one could have foreseen that," Miss Haldin murmured, with her serious grey eyes fixed upon mine.
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