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Updated: June 4, 2025
They were crossing the grass-plot obliquely, without haste. The shorter of the two was buttoned up in a narrow overcoat of some thin grey material, which came nearly to his heels. His companion, much taller and broader, wore a short, close-fitting jacket and tight trousers tucked into shabby top-boots. The woman, who had sent them out of Razumov's way apparently, spoke in a businesslike voice.
Razumov's record at the point where Councillor Mikulin's question "Where to?" comes in with the force of an insoluble problem, I shall simply say that I made the acquaintance of these ladies about six months before that time. By "these ladies" I mean, of course, the mother and the sister of the unfortunate Haldin.
She shrank before Razumov's savage snarl of, "I have heard something like this before." She was so confounded that she could do nothing but blink for a long time. "It was your humane manner," she explained plaintively. "I have been starving for, I won't say kindness, but just for a little civility, for I don't know how long. And now you are angry...." "But no, on the contrary," he protested.
He was a Russian: and for him to be implicated meant simply sinking into the lowest social depths amongst the hopeless and the destitute the night birds of the city. The peculiar circumstances of Razumov's parentage, or rather of his lack of parentage, should be taken into the account of his thoughts. And he remembered them too.
But in a moment the woman, moving aside, motioned with her arm to the two men, who, leaving the drive at once, struck across the large neglected lawn, or rather grass-plot, and made directly for the house. The woman remained on the path waiting for Razumov's approach. She had recognized him. He, too, had recognized her at the first glance.
He pounced upon Razumov about midday, somewhat less uproariously than his habit was, and led him aside. "Just a moment, Kirylo Sidorovitch. A few words here in this quiet corner." He felt Razumov's reluctance, and insinuated his hand under his arm caressingly. "No pray do. I don't want to talk to you about any of my silly scrapes. What are my scrapes? Absolutely nothing. Mere childishness.
Her bosom heaved, but her left arm remained rigidly extended along the back of the couch. "You will only upset yourself," breathed out a deep voice, which, to Razumov's startled glance, seemed to proceed from under the steady spectacles of Peter Ivanovitch, rather than from his lips, which had hardly moved. "What of hat? I say thieves! Voleurs! Voleurs!"
If he were lying here on the floor I could walk over his breast.... The fellow is a mere phantom...." Razumov's voice died out very much against his will. Mikulin behind the table did not allow himself the slightest movement. The silence lasted for some little time before Razumov could go on again. "He went about talking of me.
The mobile, superficial mind of the ex-Guards officer, man of showy missions, experienced in nothing but the arts of gallant intrigue and worldly success, had been equally impressed by the more obvious difficulties of such a situation and by Razumov's quiet dignity in stating them. He had said, "No. Upon the whole I can't condemn the step you ventured to take by coming to me with your story.
Razumov's forehead was moist. He took a turn or two in the room, his head low and smiling to himself viciously. "Have you ever reflected on the power of goggle eyes and grey whiskers? Excuse me. You seem to think I must be crazy to talk in this vein at such a time. But I am not talking lightly. I have seen instances.
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