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Updated: June 29, 2025
I went into Finland alone, saw no one, talked to no one, saw only her. Then quite suddenly I came to life again. She withdrew from me.... Work seemed the only possible thing; but I was, during all this time, happy not miserable. She was not with me, but she was not very far away. Then Andrey Vassilievitch came back to me.
He got very excited when he talked to me and asked me whether I thought it would all be very terrible." "He is a nervous fussy little man. Russians are not cowards, but Andrey Vassilievitch lost his wife last year. He was very devoted to her very. He is miserable without her, they say. Perhaps he has come to the war to forget her."
I have never in all my life seen anything more charming than the behaviour of Nikitin and Andrey Vassilievitch to Trenchard. There is something about Russian kindness that is both simpler and more tactful than any other kindness in the world.
Was with Durward and Andrey Vassilievitch in a Podvoda Like the latter, but he's out of place here. Arrived 1.30. "June 24th. Off early morning. This time black carriage with Sisters K and Anna Petrovna. More dust thousands of soldiers passing us, singing as though there were no retreat. News from L very bad. Say there's no ammunition. Arrived Nijnieff evening 7.30. Very hungry and thirsty.
Trenchard, little Andrey Vassilievitch, Semyonov, Nikitin ... yes, there was promise of much development here. We had dropped down into the valley and, at a sudden turn, saw the school-house in front of us. It is before me now as I write with its long low whitewashed two-storied front, its dormer-windows, its roof faintly pink with a dark red bell-tower perched on the top.
Of Nikitin and Andrey Vassilievitch, at least, I was the friend, but however deeply a Russian admits an Englishman into friendship he can, to the very last, puzzle, confuse, utterly surprise him.
I was jealous of that which Andrey Vassilievitch had and I lacked. My whole relationship to Andrey Vassilievitch was a curious one. My friendship for his wife must I am sure have been torture to him. He knew that she had given me a great deal that she had never given to him. And yet, because he loved her so profoundly, he was only anxious that she should be happy.
But she will say: 'Poor Andrey Vassilievitch! She will pity me!... I think that I would be happier if I did not see my friend. But I cannot leave him.... We talk of her often. And yet he despises me and wonders that she can have loved me...." I had a fear lest Andrey Vassilievitch should cry.
I felt a passionate irritation against Andrey Vassilievitch. Why could he not keep quiet? What, after all, was he doing here? I could hear that he was dreaming. He muttered some woman's name: "Sasha ... Sasha ... Sasha...." "Can't you keep still?" I whispered to him, but in the cold I myself was trembling.
The subject here is simply the attitude of certain private persons with whom I was allowed some intimacy ... for the rest one has no right to speak. There comes then the second difficulty, namely: that of Nikitin, Andrey Vassilievitch, Semyonov and Marie Ivanovna one can only present a foreign point of view.
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