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Updated: August 23, 2024
After luncheon I crossed the street to see Mikhalovsky, whom I was sure to find in the Club. He was going out with Polenov. "Aha, dear boy!" Polenov said to me. There are no political parties or platforms at Nadejda Stepanovna. A little lawyer, and an old soldier are equally welcome. Nadejda Stepanovna just telephoned there are new ones." The old fool!
"Well," he said, "she was released." And Mikhalovsky became sad and worried, looking humble and frightened. "I am all tangled up, friend!" he said. "I think I am in mortal danger. Last Friday Kerensky asked me to come to his office and said she must be freed, and everything was a misunderstanding. He said he had received proof; her arrest was a mistake.
I stopped him and asked him to be more explicit, as I could not grasp all of the meaning of his eloquence. Mikhalovsky, who is now taking great care of himself, drinks some waters, takes green pills and goes to bed at nine, became enraged and refused, but Misha said he was an ass, and simply had to dress and go to the headquarters. So the old thing had to dress and appear.
A crowd of cooks, or maids, passed near me shouting and screaming for help; they had disgustingly lost their self-control. I reached home in a hurry and found Maroossia pale and frightened. I had to tell her not to show her nose in the streets. Then Mikhalovsky called me up and asked how did I like the revolution.
He took the letter from Misha saying that "as I see it affects you too much, I will make a private and personal investigation and let you know when I get some results." "Now," Mikhalovsky continued, lowering his voice, "Misha has disappeared. He is not in the office. He has never come home since the morning he told me all of that.
Another one "listened in," and understood from Maroossia's and Baroness B's. conversation, that my wife took the package to a certain Madame van der Hüchts in Sestroretsk, on being told to do so by the Baroness, and that she did not know what there was in it, and even did not know who Madame van der Hüchts was. "You see, you boneheaded fool," Mikhalovsky continued, "what was the danger?
I suspected, and feared, that it could or might have happened, and so it was! Yesterday Mikhalovsky asked me to come to his office. He looked queer and worried, and when I stepped in, he closed the door and started to reproach me with every sign of excitement, so proper to him; spitting all over my face. "I never expected that from you! I never expected! How is it? What is it!?..." and so on.
And only when we reached his room and he verified as to whether or not the door was well shut, he said: "Now what seems to be your question, and what in hell do you know about her? Who told you that something happened to her?" As this is the time when "homo homini lupus," I said that nobody ever told me of her, but having met Mikhalovsky at the Club I thought of the Baroness and asked.
Nothing happened to Misha ..." and I continued in that tone of consolation, though I knew how weak the words sounded. Mikhalovsky shook his head. "Anyhow I won't let it pass so easily. I'll try to know, and I'll try to clear it out...." I left him with his head down on his hands, in an agony of sorrow for Misha, and in an agony of fears for his own sake.
Maroossia left for her father's. We certainly had some explanation! She cried and felt indignant, and finally understood why I was so angry when the evening papers came out with the news of Baroness B's arrest. Then she understood that she never should do anything that was asked her "without her husband's knowledge." The case, as Mikhalovsky says, is closed.
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