XIII
I stared at him. I could not take my eyes away. I instantly forgot everyone else, the room, the tree, the lights.... With a force, with apoignancy and pathos and brutality that were more cruel than I couldhave believed possible that other world came back to me. Ah! I could seenow that all these months I had been running away from this very thing,seeking to pretend that it did not exist, that it had never existed. Allin vain--utterly in vain. I saw Semyonov as I had just seen him, sittingon his horse outside the shining white house at O----. Then Semyonovoperating in a stinking room, under a red light, his arms bathed inblood; then Semyonov and Trenchard; then Semyonov speaking to MarieIvanovna, her eyes searching his face; then that day when I woke from mydream in the orchard to find his eyes staring at me through the brightgreen trees, and afterwards when we went in to look at her dead; thenworst of all that ride back to the "Stab" with my hand on his thick,throbbing arm.... Semyonov in the Forest, working, sneering, hating us,despising us, carrying his tragedy in his eyes and defying us to care;Semyonov that last time of all, vanishing into the darkness with his"Nothing!" that lingering echo of a defiant desperate soul that hadstayed with me, against my bidding, ever since I had heard it.
What a fool had I been to know these people! I had felt from the firstto what it must lead, and I might have avoided it and I would not. Ilooked at him, I faced him, I smiled. He was the same as he had been. Alittle stouter, perhaps, his pale hair and square-cut beard looking asthough it had been carved from some pale honey-coloured wood, the thickstolidity of his long body and short legs, the squareness of his head,the coldness of his eyes and the violent red of his lips, all were justas they had been--the same man, save that now he was in civilianclothes, in a black suit with a black bow tie. There was a smile on hislips, that same smile half sneer half friendliness that I knew so well.His eyes were veiled....
He was, I believe, as violently surprised to see me as I had been to seehim, but he held himself in complete control!
He said, "Why, Durward!... Ivan Andreievitch!" Then he greeted theothers.
I was able, now, to notice the general effect of his arrival. It was asthough a cold wind had suddenly burst through the windows, blown out allthe candles upon the tree and plunged the place into darkness. Those whodid not know him felt that, with his entrance, the gaiety was gone.Markovitch's face was pale, he was looking at Vera who, for an instant,had stood, quite silently, staring at her uncle, then, recoveringherself, moved forward.
"Why, Uncle Alexei!" she cried, holding out her hand. "You're too latefor the tree! Why didn't you tell us? Then you could have come todinner... and now it is all over. Why didn't you tell us?"
He took her hand, and, very solemnly, bent down and kissed it.
"I didn't know myself, dear Vera Michailovna. I only arrived inPetrograd yesterday; and then in my house everything was wrong, and I'vebeen busy all day. But I felt that I must run in and give you thegreetings of the season.... Ah, Nicholas, how are you? And you, Ivan?...I telephoned to you.... Nina, my dear...." And so on. He went roundand shook hands with them all. He was introduced to Bohun and Lawrence.He was very genial, praising the tree, laughing, shouting in the ears ofthe great-aunt. But no one responded. As so frequently happens in Russiathe atmosphere was suddenly changed. No one had anything to say. Thecandles on the tree were blown out. Of course, the evening was notnearly ended. There would be tea and games, perhaps--at any rate everyone would sit and sit until three or four if, for no other reason,simply because it demanded too much energy to rise and make farewells.But the spirit of the party was utterly dead....
The samovar hissed at the end of the table. Vera Michailovna sat theremaking tea for every one. Semyonov (I should now in the heart of hisrelations, have thought of him as Alexei Petrovitch, but so long had hebeen Semyonov to me that Semyonov he must remain) was next to her, and Isaw that he took trouble, talking to her, smiling, his stiff strongwhite fingers now and then stroking his thick beard, his red lipsparting a little, then closing so firmly that it seemed that they wouldnever open again.
I noticed that his eyes often wandered towards me. He was uneasy aboutmy presence there, I thought, and that disturbed me. I felt as I lookedat him the same confusion as I had always felt. I did not hate him. Hisstrength of character, his fearlessness, these things in a countryfamous for neither quality I was driven to admire and to respect. And Icould not hate what I admired.
And yet my fear gathered and gathered in volume as I watched him. Whatwould he do with these people? What plans had he? What purpose? Whatsecret, selfish ambitions was he out now to secure?
Markovitch was silent, drinking his tea, watching his wife, watching usall with his nervous frowning expression.
I rose to go and then, when I had said farewell to every one and wenttowards the door, Semyonov joined me.
"Well, Ivan Andreievitch," he said. "So we have not finished with oneanother yet."
He looked at me with his steady unswerving eyes; he smiled.
I also smiled as I found my coat and hat in the little hall. Sachahelped me into my Shuba. He stood, his lips a little apart, watching me.
"What have you been doing all this time?" he asked me.
"I've been ill," I answered.
"Not had, I hope."
"No, not had. But enough to keep me very idle."
"As much of an optimist as ever?"
"Was I an optimist?"
"Why, surely. A charming one. Do you love Russia as truly as ever?"
I laughed, my hand on the door. "That's my affair, Alexei Petrovitch," Ianswered.
"Certainly," he said, smiling. "You're looking older, you know."
"You too," I said.
"Yes, perhaps. Would I still think you sentimental, do you suppose?"
"It is of no importance, Alexei Petrovitch," I said. "I'm sure you haveother better things to do. Are you remaining in Petrograd?"
He looked at me then very seriously, his eyes staring straight intomine.
"I hope so."
"You will work at your practice?"
"Perhaps." He nodded to me. "Strange to find you here...." he said. "Weshall meet again. Good-night."
He closed the door behind me.
The Secret City Page 13