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Updated: June 9, 2025
To what? "I have been speaking to him with the greatest openness," he said to himself with perfect truth. "What else could I tell him? That I have undertaken to carry a message to that brute Ziemianitch? Establish a false complicity and destroy what chance of safety I have won for nothing what folly!"
The General, with his elbows on the desk, took his head between his hands. "Yes. Yes. I am thinking it out.... How long is it since you left him at your rooms, Mr. Razumov?" Razumov mentioned the hour which nearly corresponded with the time of his distracted flight from the big slum house. He had made up his mind to keep Ziemianitch out of the affair completely.
"I am come here," he began, in a clear voice, "to talk of an individual called Ziemianitch. Sophia Antonovna has informed me that she would make public a certain letter from St. Petersburg...." "Sophia Antonovna has left us early in the evening," said Laspara. "It's quite correct. Everybody here has heard...."
And it was still about the famous letter, referring to various minute details given by her informant, who had never seen Ziemianitch. The "victim of remorse" had been buried several weeks before her correspondent began frequenting the house. It the house contained very good revolutionary material.
Thus, when on arriving at the low eating-house he heard that the man of horses, Ziemianitch, was not there, he could only stare stupidly.
Who could believe anything against me? Had not Ziemianitch hanged himself from remorse? I said to myself, 'Let's put it to the test, and be done with it once for all. I trembled when I went in; but your mother hardly listened to what I was saying to her, and, in a little while, seemed to have forgotten my very existence. I sat looking at her. There was no longer anything between you and me.
"I ought to have told very circumstantial lies from the first," he said to himself, with a mortal distaste of the mere idea which silenced his mental utterance for quite a perceptible interval. "Luckily, that's all right now," he reflected, and after a time spoke to himself, half aloud, "Thanks to the devil," and laughed a little. The end of Ziemianitch then arrested his wandering thoughts.
He walked faster, making his way to one of the poorer parts of the town in order to look up Ziemianitch. This Ziemianitch, Razumov understood, was a sort of town-peasant who had got on; owner of a small number of sledges and horses for hire. Haldin paused in his narrative to exclaim "A bright spirit! A hardy soul! The best driver in St. Petersburg. He has a team of three horses there.... Ah!
She charged Ziemianitch either with drunken indiscretion as to a driving job on a certain date, overheard by some spy in some low grog-shop perhaps in the very eating-shop on the ground floor of the house or, maybe, a downright denunciation, followed by remorse. A man like that would be capable of anything. People said he was a flighty old chap.
On the contrary every obligation of true courage is the other way." Razumov looked round from under his cap. "What can the prejudice of the world reproach me with? Have I provoked his confidence? No! Have I by a single word, look, or gesture given him reason to suppose that I accepted his trust in me? No! It is true that I consented to go and see his Ziemianitch. Well, I have been to see him.
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