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Updated: June 29, 2025
You're always so tiresome, Vera.... I'm not a baby now, nor is Boris. If he wants to come he shall come." Vera stood away from us both. I could see that she was very angry. I had never seen her angry before. "You know that it's impossible, Nina," she said. "You know that Rozanov hates him. And besides there are other reasons. You know them perfectly well, Nina."
I heard Rozanov say, "Ah, you in Petrograd! What do you know of things? Don't let me hurt any one's feelings, pray.... Most excellent soup, Vera Michailovna I congratulate you.... But you just wait until Moscow takes things in hand. Why only the other day Maklakoff said to a friend of mine 'It's all nonsense, he said."
He was placed on Vera Michailovna's left hand, Rozanov, the Moscow merchant near to him, and I did not hear him say anything very bright or illuminating, but every one felt, I think, that he was a cheerful and dependable person. I always felt, when I observed him, that he understood the Russian character far better than any of us.
He was from Moscow his name Paul Leontievitch Rozanov and I met him on a later occasion of which I shall have to tell in its place. Then there were two young girls who giggled a great deal and whispered together. They hung around Nina and stroked her hair and admired her dress, and laughed at Boris Grogoff and any one else who was near them. Nina was immensely happy.
Perhaps for a time she may, but our Idea will not die. "The further Germany goes, the deeper will that Idea penetrate into her heart. At the end she will die of it, and a new Germany will be born into a new world.... I tell you I am an evil man, but I believe in God and in the righteousness of God." What do I remember after those words of Rozanov?
During these weeks I had been living in the very heart of the Markovitches, and it would be healthy to escape for a moment. But I was not to escape. I met Bohun at the top of the English Prospect, and we decided to walk. Rozanov lived in the street behind the Kazan Cathedral.
Our town doctor, Rozanov he too was an accoucheur asserted most positively that on one occasion when a patient in labour was crying out and calling on the name of the Almighty, a free-thinking sally from Arina Prohorovna, fired off like a pistol-shot, had so terrifying an effect on the patient that it greatly accelerated her delivery.
It's lovely! All about impossible people! Durdles, dear! I'll give up the party. We won't go. We'll sit here and entertain you. I'll send Boris away. We'll tell him we don't want him." "Boris!" cried Vera. "Yes," Nina laughed a little uneasily, I thought. "I know you said he wasn't to come. He'll quarrel with Rozanov of course. But he said he would. And so how was one to prevent him?
Rozanov answered him, Rozanov flushed, his fat body swollen with food and drink, a little unsteady on his legs, and the light of the true mystic in his pig-like eyes. He came forward into the middle of the circle. "That's perhaps true what you say," he cried; "it's very English, very honest, and, if you will forgive me, young man, very simple. You say that we Russians are conceited.
He would not tell any one now that "he really thought that he did understand Russia," nor would he offer to put his friends right about Russian characteristics and behaviour. He watched the young giggling girls, and the fat Rozanov, and the shrill young man with ill-concealed distress.
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