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Updated: May 3, 2025
She has not shed a tear yet not a single tear." "Not a tear! And you, Natalia Victorovna? You have been able to cry?" "I have. And then I am young enough, Kirylo Sidorovitch, to believe in the future. But when I see my mother so terribly distracted, I almost forget everything. I ask myself whether one should feel proud or only resigned. We had such a lot of people coming to see us.
Razumov looked him straight in the eyes, before saying with marked deliberation and separating his words "I thank you very much." He went away again rapidly. Kostia, recovering from his surprise at these manoeuvres, ran up behind him pressingly. "No! Wait! Listen. I really mean it. It would be like giving your compassion to a starving fellow. Do you hear, Kirylo?
For instance that Ziemianitch was notoriously irreligious, and yet, in the last weeks of his life, he suffered from the notion that he had been beaten by the devil. "The devil," repeated Razumov, as though he had not heard aright. "The actual devil. The devil in person. You may well look astonished, Kirylo Sidorovitch.
"You are concealing something from me," she exclaimed. "Do you, Natalia Victorovna, believe in the duty of revenge?" "Listen, Kirylo Sidorovitch. I believe that the future shall be merciful to us all. Revolutionist and reactionary, victim and executioner, betrayer and betrayed, they shall all be pitied together when the light breaks on our black sky at last.
"The man who says that he has no illusions has at least that one," he said, in a very friendly tone. "But I see how it is, Kirylo Sidorovitch. You aim at stoicism." "Stoicism! That's a pose of the Greeks and the Romans. Let's leave it to them. We are Russians, that is children; that is sincere; that is cynical, if you like. But that's not a pose." A long silence ensued.
They stood like this for a long moment. She released his hand. "Yes. You did come late. It was good of you to come on the chance of me having loitered beyond my time. I was talking with this good friend here. I was talking of you. Yes, Kirylo Sidorovitch, of you. He was with me when I first heard of your being here in Geneva.
Do give over, little father. They are unlucky people." Razumov moved his shoulders slightly. "Or is it that some secret enemy has been calumniating you, Kirylo Sidorovitch? The world is full of black hearts and false denunciations nowadays. There is much fear about." "Have you heard that I have been denounced by some one?" asked Razumov, without taking his eyes off her quivering face.
"Kirylo Sidorovitch," said the other, flinging off his cap, "we are not perhaps in exactly the same camp. Your judgment is more philosophical. You are a man of few words, but I haven't met anybody who dared to doubt the generosity of your sentiments. There is a solidity about your character which cannot exist without courage."
It was an infernal cycle bringing round that protest like a fatal necessity of his existence. But it was no use. He would be always played with. Luckily life does not last for ever. "I won't have it!" he shouted, striking his fist into the palm of his other hand. "Kirylo Sidorovitch what has come to you?" The woman revolutionist interfered with authority.
Simply because some of his conventional notions are shocked, some of his petty masculine standards. You might think he was one of these nervous sensitives that come to a bad end. And yet," she went on, after a short, reflective pause and changing the mode of her address, "and yet I have just learned something which makes me think that you are a man of character, Kirylo Sidorovitch.
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