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Updated: June 29, 2025
The point of this discovery was that it proved Haldin to have been familiar with that horse-owning peasant a reckless, independent, free-living fellow not much liked by the other inhabitants of the house. He was believed to have been the associate of a band of housebreakers. Some of these got captured.
Had I been myself a conspirator, a Russian political refugee, I could have perhaps been able to draw some practical conclusion from this chance glimpse. As it was, it only discomposed me strongly, even to the extent of awakening an indefinite apprehension in regard to Natalia Haldin.
He carried his head well up, but he had the expression of a somnambulist struggling with the very dream which drives him forth to wander in dangerous places. My thoughts reverted to Natalia Haldin, to her mother. He was all that was left to them of their son and brother. The westerner in me was discomposed. There was something shocking in the expression of that face.
I could not understand it in this connexion at all. What ailed him? I asked myself. What strange thought had come into his head? What vision of all the horrors that can be seen in his hopeless country had come suddenly to haunt his brain? If it were anything connected with the fate of Victor Haldin, then I hoped earnestly he would keep it to himself for ever.
"Would you please let me pass?" said Miss Haldin at last, touching lightly the shoulder of the dame de compagnie. But the other, pressing the cat to her breast, did not budge. "I know who is with him," she said, without even looking back. More unaccountably than ever Miss Haldin felt a strong impulse to leave the house.
Razumov's narrative it is really a wonder how he managed to keep going as he did along one interminable street after another on pavements that were gradually becoming blocked with snow. It was the thought of Haldin locked up in his rooms and the desperate desire to get rid of his presence which drove him forward. No rational determination had any part in his exertions.
Miss Haldin wished to go through a course of reading the best English authors with a competent teacher. Mrs. Haldin received me very kindly. Her bad French, of which she was smilingly conscious, did away with the formality of the first interview. She was a tall woman in a black silk dress. A wide brow, regular features, and delicately cut lips, testified to her past beauty.
"No, I have seen nothing for myself as yet," she murmured "We have always lived in the country. It was my brother's wish." "It is a curious meeting this between you and me," continued the other. "Do you believe in chance, Miss Haldin? How could I have expected to see you, his sister, with my own eyes?
Since Miss Haldin with her sure instinct had refrained from introducing me to the burly celebrity, I would have retired quietly and returned later on, had I not met a peculiar expression in her eyes which I interpreted as a request to stay, with the view, perhaps, of shortening an unwelcome visit. He picked up his hat, but only to deposit it on his knees. "We shall meet again, Natalia Victorovna.
"Not that his God ever helped him. It's a long time since God has done anything for the people. Anyway, it's done." "All this would be quite final," said Razumov, with every appearance of reflective impartiality, "if there was any certitude that the 'our young gentleman' of these people was Victor Haldin. Have we got that?" "Yes. There's no mistake.
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