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The next instant Ivan walked quietly into the wrecked room, and gazed about him at the ruin, where, in the midst of splinters and scraps of wood, empty cartridges, and greasy blood-streaks, lay three bodies: Lemsky, the first sacrifice; Burevsky the assassin; and Vladimir Tronsky, a gentle, beardless boy.
Ivan was on his feet, facing the other, who stared at him as he gasped, between his quick breaths: "You, Gregoriev! You! Go, instantly! Leave the house at the back; there may be time! You " "But for God's sake, Burevsky, what's the matter? Where are Sergius and Irina?" "Irina got away, thank God! We managed that, last night. See here, Ivan, she's at "
However, when he spoke again, Michael's voice was quiet enough, though touched with irony: "So actually you are in love with her still!" "Neither now nor ever," Ivan answered, steady-eyed. Michael, inwardly relieved, shrugged. "Where is she, Ivan?" "Thank God, I don't know!" "Why don't you know?" "Burevsky was shot with the name of the place on his lips unspoken."
My God, man, you should be in bed! come, sit down!" But Burevsky laughed hoarsely. "No, no. You will give me the best medicine: a meal company a glass of wine. I've I've been working! Sergius told you ?" He broke off, waving a listless hand towards his friend.
Presently, as if his thoughts had broken unconsciously into words, Ivan muttered, in a low, expressionless voice: "Anarchy! Murder! Good God why didn't they make it my father?" Then Burevsky rose slowly to his feet. "We all rejoice, Ivan, for and with you, that it was not your father. And you have saved me from from a serious difficulty.
Interested in the little theme he had developed, Ivan lost count of time, and nearly two hours passed before he was interrupted. There was a sound of feet running rapidly up-stairs, and then there burst into the room Burevsky: bare-headed, leaden-hued, eyes aflame, his left hand hanging, crushed and bloody, at his side, in his right a pistol, its barrel glinting in the light.
Certain he was that he knew where to lay hands upon Ternoff's assassin. Certain also was he that, if he gave Burevsky up to justice his father's "justice," the responsibility of Burevsky's execution or exile would be on his conscience forevermore. What to do? Burevsky and his companions had used him ruthlessly, as their shield.
The chair between Sergius and Féodor Lemsky was to have been occupied by Yevgeny Burevsky, the young man who had been the recipient of those "scientific instruments" for which the whole Quarter was still out of ready money. It was Sergius himself who explained to their host that, ever since he had received his outfit, Burevsky had been tirelessly working at his chemistry.
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