XXII
And yet for the first half-hour it really seemed that it would "go" verywell indeed. It had been agreed that it was to be absolutely a "family"party, and Uncle Ivan, Semyonov, and Boris Grogoff were the onlyadditions to our number. Markovitch was there of course, and I saw atonce that he was eager to be agreeable and to be the best possible host.As I had often noticed before, there was something pathetic aboutMarkovitch when he wished to be agreeable. He had neither the figure northe presence with which to be fascinating, and he did not know in theleast how to bring out his best points.
Especially when he tried, as he was sometimes ill-advised enough to do,to flirt with young girls, he was a dismal failure. He was intended, bynature, to be mysterious and malevolent, and had he only had amalevolent spirit there would have been no tragedy--but in the confusedwelter that he called his soul, malevolence was the least of theelements, and other things--love, sympathy, twisted self-pity, ambition,courage, and cowardice--drowned it. He was on his best behaviourto-night, and over the points of his high white collar his peaked, ugly,anxious face peered, appealing to the Fates for generosity.
But the Fates despise those who appeal.
I very soon saw that he was on excellent terms with Semyonov, and thiscould only be, I was sure, because Semyonov had been flattering him.Very soon I learnt the truth. I was standing near the table, watchingthe company, when I found Markovitch at my side.
"Very glad you've come, Ivan Andreievitch," he said. "I've been meaningto come and see you, only I've been too busy."
"How's the ink getting along?" I asked him.
"Oh, the ink!" He brushed my words scornfully aside. "No, that'snothing. We must postpone that to a more propitious time.Meanwhile--meanwhile, Ivan Andreievitch, I've hit it at last!"
"What is it this time?" I asked.
He could hardly speak for his excitement. "It's wood--the bark--the barkof the tree, you know--a new kind of fibre for cloth. If I hadn't got tolook after these people here, I'd take you and show you now. You're aclever fellow--you'd understand at once. I've been showing it to Alexei"(he nodded in the direction of Semyonov), "and he entirely agrees withme that there's every kind of possibility in it. The thing will be toget the labour--that's the trouble nowadays--but I'll find somebody--oneof these timber men...."
So that was it, was it? I looked across at Semyonov, who was now seatedon Vera's right hand just opposite Boris Grogoff. He was very quiet,very still, looking about him, his square pale beard a kind of symbol ofthe secret immobility of his soul. I fancied that I detected behind hisplacidity an almost relieved self-satisfaction, as though things weregoing very much better than he had expected.
"So Alexei Petrovitch thinks well of it, does he?" I asked.
"Most enthusiastic," answered Markovitch eagerly. "He's gone into thething thoroughly with me, and has made some admirable suggestions....Ivan Andreievitch, I think I should tell you--I misjudged him. I wasn'tfair on what I said to you the other day about him. Or perhaps it isthat being at the Front has changed him, softened him a bit. His loveaffair there, you know, made him more sympathetic and kindly. I believehe means well to us all. Vera won't agree with me. She's more cynicalthan she used to be. I don't like that in her. She never had asuspicious nature before, but now she doesn't trust one."
"You don't tell her enough," I interrupted.
"Tell her?" he looked at me doubtfully. "What is there I should tellher?"
"Everything!" I answered.
"Everything?" His eyes suddenly narrowed, his face was sharp andsuspicious. "Does she tell me everything? Answer me that, IvanAndreievitch. There was a time once--but now--I give my confidenceswhere I'm trusted. If she treated me fairly--"
There was no chance to say more; they called us to the table. I took myplace between Nina and Ivan.
As I have said, the supper began very merrily. Boris Grogoff was, Ithink, a little drunk when he arrived; at any rate he was noisy from thevery beginning. I have wondered often since whether he had any privateknowledge that night which elated and excited him, and was responsiblein part, perhaps, for what presently occurred. It may well have beenso, although at the time, of course, nothing of the kind occurred to me.Nina appeared to have recovered her spirits. She was sitting next toLawrence, and chattered and laughed with him in her ordinary fashion.
And now, stupidly enough, when I try to recall exactly the steps thatled up to the catastrophe, I find it difficult to see things clearly. Iremember that very quickly I was conscious that there was danger in theair. I was conscious of it first in the eyes of Semyonov, those steady,watching, relentless eyes so aloof as to be inhuman. He was on the otherside of the table, and suddenly I said to myself, "He's expectingsomething to happen." Then, directly after that I caught Vera's eye, andI saw that she too was anxious. She looked pale and tired and sad.
I caught myself in the next instant saying to myself, "Well, she's gotLawrence to look after her now"--so readily does the spirit that isbeyond one's grasp act above and outside one's poor human will.
I saw then that the trouble was once again, as it had often been before,Grogoff. He was drinking heavily the rather poor claret which Markovitchhad managed to secure from somewhere. He addressed the world in general.
"I tell you that we're going to stop this filthy war," he cried. "And ifour government won't do it, we'll take things into our own hands...."
"Well," said Semyonov, smiling, "that's a thing that no Russian has eversaid before, for certain."
Every one laughed, and Grogoff flushed. "Oh, it's easy to sneer!" hesaid. "Just because there've been miserable cowards in Russian history,you think it will always be so. I tell you it is not so. The time iscoming when tyranny will topple from its throne, and we'll show Europethe way to liberty."
"By which you mean," said Semyonov, "that you'll involve Russia in atleast three more wars in addition to the one she's at present somagnificently losing."
"I tell you," screamed Grogoff, now so excited that he was standing onhis feet and waving his glass in the air, "that this time you have notcowards to deal with. This will not be as it was in 1905; I know of whatI'm speaking."
Semyonov leant over the table and whispered something in Markovitch'sear. I had seen that Markovitch had already been longing to speak. Hejumped up on to his feet, fiercely excited, his eyes flaming.
"It's nonsense that you are talking, sheer nonsense!" he cried."Russia's lost the war, and all we who believed in her have our heartsbroken. Russia won't be mended by a few vapouring idiots who talk andtalk without taking action."
"What do you call me?" screamed Grogoff.
"I mention no names," said Markovitch, his little eyes dancing withanger. "Take it or no as you please. But I say that we have had enoughof all this vapouring talk, all this pretence of courage. Let us admitthat freedom has failed in Russia, that she must now submit herself tothe yoke."
"Coward! Coward!" screamed Grogoff.
"It's you who are the coward!" cried Markovitch.
"Call me that and I'll show you!"
"I do call you it!"
There was an instant's pause, during which we all of us had, I suppose,some idea of trying to intervene.
But it was too late. Grogoff raised his hand and, with all his force,flung his glass at Markovitch. Markovitch ducked his head, and the glasssmashed with a shattering tinkle on the wall behind him.
We all cried out, but the only thing of which I was conscious was thatLawrence had sprung from his seat, had crossed to where Vera wasstanding, and had put his hand on her arm. She glanced up at him. Thatlook which they exchanged, a look of revelation, of happiness, of suddenmarvellous security, was so significant that I could have cried out tothem both, "Look out! Look out!"
But if I had cried they would not have heard me.
My next instinct was to turn to Markovitch. He was frowning, coughing alittle, and feeling the top of his collar. His face was turned towardsGrogoff and he was speaking--could catch some words: "No right...
in myown house... Boris... I apologise... please don't think of it." Buthis eyes were not looking at Boris at all; they were turned towardsVera, staring at her, begging her, beseeching her.... What had he seen?How much had he understood? And Nina? And Semyonov?
But at once, in a way most truly Russian, the atmosphere had changed. Itwas Nina who controlled the situation. "Boris," she cried, "come here!"
We all waited in silence. He looked at her, a little sulkily, his headhanging, but his eyes glancing up at her.
He seemed nothing then but a boy caught in some misdemeanour, obstinate,sulky, but ready to make peace if a chance were offered him.
"Boris, come here!"
He moved across to her, looking her full in the face, his mouth sulky,but his eyes rebelliously smiling.
"Well... well...."
She stood away from the table, drawn to her full height, her eyescommanding him: "How dare you! Boris, how dare you! Mybirthday--_mine_--and you've spoilt it, spoilt it all. Come here--upclose!"
He came to her until his hands were almost on her body; he hung hishead, standing over her.
She stood back as though she were going to strike him, then suddenlywith a laugh she sprang upon the chair beside her, flung her arms roundhis neck and kissed him; then, still standing on the chair, turned andfaced us all.
"Now, that's enough--all of you. Michael, Uncle Ivan, Uncle Alexei,Durdles--how dare you, all of you? You're all as bad--every one of you.I'll punish all of you if we have any more politics. Beastly politics!What do they matter? It's my birthday. My _birthday_, I tell you. It_shan't_ be spoilt."
She seemed to me so excited as not to know what she was saying. What hadshe seen? What did she know?... Meanwhile Grogoff was elated, wildlypleased like a boy who, contrary to all his expectations, had won aprize.
He went up to Markovitch with his hand out:
"Nicholas--forgive me--_Prasteete_--I forgot myself. I'm ashamed--myabominable temper. We are friends. You were right, too. We talk here inRussia too much, far too much, and when the moment comes for action weshrink back. We see too far perhaps. Who knows? But you were right and Iam a fool. You've taught me a lesson by your nobility. Thank you,Nicholas. And all of you--I apologise to all of you."
We moved away from the table. Vera came over to us, and then sat on thesofa with her arm around Nina's neck. Nina was very quiet now, sittingthere, her cheeks flushed, smiling, but as though she were thinking ofsomething quite different.
Some one proposed that we should play "Petits Cheveaux." We gatheredaround the table, and soon every one was laughing and gambling.
Only once I looked up and saw that Markovitch was gazing at Vera; andonce again I looked at Vera and saw that she was staring before her,seeing nothing, lost in some vision--but it was not of Markovitch thatshe was thinking....
I was the first to leave--I said good-night to every one. I could heartheir laughter as I waited at the bottom of the stairs for the Dvornikto let me out.
But when I was in the street the world was breathlessly still. I walkedup the Prospect--no soul was in sight, only the scattered lamps, thepale snow, and the houses. At the end of the Canal I stopped. Thesilence was intense.
It seemed to me then that in the very centre of the Canal the icesuddenly cracked, slowly pulled apart, leaving a still pool of blackwater. The water slowly stirred, rippled, then a long, horned, and scalyhead pushed up. I could see the shining scales on its thick side and theribbed horn on the back of the neck. Beneath it the water stirred andheaved. With dead glazed eyes it stared upon the world, then slowly, asthough it were drawn from below, it sank. The water rippled in narrowingcircles--then all was still....
The moon came out from behind filmy shadow. The world was intenselylight, and I saw that the ice of the canal had never been broken, andthat no pool of black water caught the moon's rays.
It was fiercely cold and I hurried home, pulling my Shuba more closelyabout me.
PART II
LAWRENCE
The Secret City Page 22