by R. N. Morris
He let himself out of the bedroom and moved noiselessly to the apartment door. He sensed the presence of the other in the silence. He laid a hand flat on the door, as if to reach out to whoever was there. He withdrew the hand as the knocking was repeated, the same pattern, more urgently.
A voice, Dolgoruky’s, hissed: ‘Magistrate! Open up. It’s me, Dolgoruky.’
‘I can’t. She’s locked me in.’
There was laughter from the other side. ‘She’s not taking any chances, that one.’
‘What do you want?’
To Virginsky’s astonishment, he heard a key fit into the lock. A moment later the door was open. The Prince’s gaze swept over him hungrily. ‘My, my, magistrate, what have you done?’
Virginsky closed the door quickly. ‘You have a key?’
‘Of course. This is my apartment. That is to say, it was. I put it at the disposal of the central committee and they handed it over to Kirill Kirillovich and Varvara Alexeevna. I must have forgotten to surrender all the keys.’
‘But you live in that squalid room? With all those others.’
‘One must make sacrifices for the revolution.’
The look Virginsky bestowed on Dolgoruky was almost one of admiration. There were many questions he could have asked. He settled for, ‘Why did you knock, if you had a key?’
‘It’s hardly polite, is it, to go barging in uninvited.’ Dolgoruky’s sheepish expression suggested another motive.
Only now did Virginsky think of the question he should have asked in the first place: ‘How did you know I was here?’
‘Everyone knows you are here. That is to say, all our people do, at least.’
‘Which means that the authorities will by now. Tatyana Ruslanovna believes there is an agent in our midst.’
‘Oh, it is never as simple as that, in my experience. Do you not agree?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘And so you shot him!’ cried Dolgoruky abruptly. ‘You really shot him, that horrible little man. I must say, I couldn’t be more pleased.’
‘I didn’t do it to please you.’
Dolgoruky seemed surprised by this. ‘Why did you do it?’
The question seemed to throw Virginsky. ‘I would have thought that was obvious. To strike at the heart of the administration. . The central committee called for an act of singular daring. .’
‘Yes, but why did you take it upon yourself to be the one? And why did you shoot him?’
‘Do you have any news. . concerning his condition? Is he. .?’ Virginsky was unable to complete the question.
‘He’s still alive, if that’s what you mean. He is being cared for at the Obukhovsky Hospital. Perhaps we should go there and finish the job off?’ Dolgoruky grinned maliciously.
‘I. . I imagine he is closely guarded.’
‘Yes, but to a daredevil like you, what does that matter? I like your disguise, by the way. That will serve you well. You can turn up at the hospital pretending to be a workman — there is always some work or other to be done in those filthy, crumbling wrecks. In amongst your bag of tools, you hide a gun, or some dynamite — do you know what dynamite is?’
Virginsky nodded.
‘There! What could be simpler?’
‘I don’t have. . any tools,’ objected Virginsky lamely. He added, ‘I cannot conceive of acting without the authorisation of the central committee.’
‘Why not? You did before.’
‘No, you are mistaken. As I said, I was called upon — ’
‘I think not. I was there, remember. I don’t think anyone explicitly called upon you to do what you have done. You acted on your own initiative. The central committee would be within their rights to hang you out to dry.’
‘They would not dare!’
‘Oh my goodness, listen to him! Now he threatens the central committee!’
‘What do you want, Dolgoruky?’
‘Do you have any tea?’
‘No. There is no tea. And no one to provide it.’
‘What did it feel like?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘When you squeezed the trigger and saw what you had done. When you saw him there bleeding. . What did you feel?’
Virginsky hesitated before answering. ‘I don’t know. It’s hard to say. I felt. . different. I felt as if my life would never be the same again.’
Dolgoruky shook his head impatiently. ‘Of course! That goes without saying. That is nothing. But. . you felt free? For the first time in your life, you were free!’
‘Yes, for a moment. In the instant I pulled the trigger. As the bullet was released. Yes, then, in that moment, I was free.’ Virginsky shook his head violently, as if he were trying to cast out from it a weight of unhappiness. ‘But look at me now. I am a prisoner in this infernal apartment. Can you believe she locked me in?! And when I am moved from here, I will be a prisoner somewhere else.’
‘Until the moment when your crime is multiplied across society. When an army of men like you each stands up and shoots. . a magistrate here, a minister there, a governor in this province, the marshal of the nobility in that! When your lead is followed, and widespread destruction is unleashed, you will be once again free.’
Virginsky sighed, as if he found Dolgoruky’s vision oppressive. He gave him a critical look. ‘And what if no one rises up?’
‘Don’t be despondent, my friend. The day will come. And you have helped to hasten it. I was talking to someone who. .’ Dolgoruky broke off, and began to pick his words more carefully: ‘Someone who. . considers himself. . to be a friend of yours. . to have your best interests at heart. Who, it might be said, has followed your career with interest.’
‘Who is this?’
‘I am not at liberty to reveal his name. It is too dangerous for you, as well as for him. Still and all, this man — let us just call him “Dyavol,” for that is a soubriquet it amuses him to answer to — this man — ’
‘Dyavol? The Devil? Is this your demon that you’re talking about?’ Virginsky gave a sarcastic laugh.
‘No. This is a real man. A man of flesh and blood. He is known as Dyavol amongst our people, though in truth, I look upon him more as some kind of god. He has had a tremendous influence on me.’
‘Not Lebezyatnikov?!’ cried Virginsky incredulously.
‘Don’t try to get his name out of me. I will not even answer your questions. However, as I was saying, if you would only let me finish you would hear something that redounds to your considerable credit. .’
‘Go on.’
‘This man, this great man, believes that your action may well prove crucial in heralding in the next, necessary phase of the struggle that will bring about the end of the regime. Widespread violence and destruction are on the brink of being unleashed. This is palpable. I for one feel it. When the time comes, you will take your place amongst the heroes of the revolution.’
‘I would like to meet this man. Would this be possible?’
‘Quite out of the question.’
‘You know,’ began Virginsky tentatively. ‘Last night, I thought about your demon. I imagined I had a demon of my own. I will not say he was real to me. But certainly I considered the possibility of his reality.’
Dolgoruky’s reaction was unsurprised, matter-of-fact. ‘This is what happens when you take the step that you and I have taken. When one transgresses. .’
‘What did you do, Dolgoruky? What was your crime?’
‘The more one transgresses, the more real one’s demon becomes. All this is very perplexing and ironic. I don’t believe in demons, and the only god I acknowledge is. . myself. And perhaps, also, the great man I have just told you about. And to prove that I don’t believe in it all, I set about. .’ There was something shocking about the innocently mischievous giggle that Dolgoruky let out. Virginsky had the sense that it was far from appropriate to the enormity of Dolgoruky’s actual crimes. ‘Sinning.’ He put his hand in front of his mouth like a naughty chi
ld. ‘Yes. I sinned to banish the demon, but it only made him more real.’
Virginksy looked over Dolgoruky’s shoulder. ‘Is he here now?’
‘I left him outside the apartment.’
‘Shall we not let him in?’
‘It will do no good. You will not be able to see him. I took him to see Lebezyatnikov. I thought if anyone could see him it would be my old tutor.’
‘Did you introduce him to Kozodavlev?’
‘Why bring up Kozodavlev? You’re not still interested in Kozodavlev, are you? That was before. When you were with him.’ Dolgoruky screwed up his face distastefully. ‘He claimed that I did not interest him!’
‘It’s just that when you mentioned Lebezyatnikov, I naturally thought of Kozodavlev.’
‘Why naturally?’
‘Because Kozodavlev attacked Lebezyatnikov in print.’
‘Ah yes.’ Dolgoruky gave a distracted smile.
‘I believe you acted as an agent in the transactions.’
Dolgoruky’s air of distraction deepened. Virginsky had the sense that it was an evasive strategy.
‘As you did in the articles Kozodavlev wrote attacking my former professor.’
Dolgoruky could not prevent himself from being interested in what Virginsky was saying. ‘Your former professor? You mean. .?’
‘Tatiscev.’
‘I see. So you know Professor Tatiscev.’
‘And knowing him to be a man of great integrity, a man whose radical credentials are beyond question, who is furthermore known to be sympathetic to the cause of social revolution, I must confess that I was surprised to find him the target of Kozodavlev’s barbs. Equally, I am disappointed that you played a part in that transaction too, a sordid part, if I may say so.’
‘But you don’t understand. All that was. . well, let’s just say, it was Dyavol’s idea.’
‘Is Dyavol a member of the central committee?’
Dolgoruky shrugged. ‘Dyavol is Dyavol. He needs no one’s authority but his own.’
Virginsky’s face lit up with sudden realisation. ‘Dyavol is “D.” The author of Swine!’
Dolgoruky’s cracked grin left room for the possibility that he was right.
‘And, if I remember rightly,’ continued Virginsky, ‘there is a character in the book called Dyavol. He wrote the book and put himself in it! But why? Is he an anti-revolutionist? It does not portray our people in a very good light.’
‘He wrote it primarily as a warning. If you betray the cause, this is what will happen to you. But perhaps it amused him to write it too. He often does things because they amuse him.’
‘Did it amuse him to have Kozodavlev attack Professor Tatiscev?’
Dolgoruky gave a delighted giggle. ‘Oh, yes! That was the most amusing diversion he had ever concocted!’
‘And why did Kozodavlev go along with it? That’s what I don’t understand. Kozodavlev’s convictions, at least as evidenced by the articles he wrote under his own name, were every bit as radical as Professor Tatiscev’s. Ideologically speaking, you could not put a cigarette paper between the two men.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. That’s true. But what you are forgetting is that, many years ago, Professor Tatiscev stole Kozodavlev’s wife.’
‘No!’
‘It’s true! It’s wonderfully, fantastically true! Although perhaps it is not so correct to talk of his stealing her. In truth, Kozodavlev rather gave her up. He was very much the new man, you see. He loved his wife as an equal, or so he claimed. And when he saw that she was in love with. . with your old professor, he would not stand in her way. So he allowed her to choose. And she chose Tatiscev. It’s just like that book, you know, What Is to Be Done? Except he did not fake his own suicide. He just gave her up.’
‘How could he do that? How could any man?’
‘Well, the point is, and here this is my own theory you understand, but I think psychologically the facts bear me out. . the thing is, he was a little bit in love with Professor Tatiscev himself! And he was driven, I think, as much by a desire to make the professor happy as to give his wife her freedom. I told you he was a new man.’
‘But then to attack him in the press?’
‘What could be more natural? Because, yes, of course, he proved himself capable of acting in the most selfless, noble way imaginable. But, you know, that’s going to hurt. That’s going to breed resentment. That’s going to inflict a wound that festers. And so when, all these years later, out of a devilish desire for amusement, it is suggested to him, by none other than. . than, well, by Dyavol himself. . naturally, he agreed. And I was happy to act as intermediary.’
‘But what political purpose was served by all this? How did it aid the cause of revolution?’
‘It allowed us to control what was said about our people in the enemy’s press. Yes, of course, we defamed ourselves, but in the most ludicrous ways imaginable.’ Dolgoruky seemed to remember himself. ‘And of course, we picked harmless targets, straw men. We made the reactionaries look in one direction, while the real work was being done elsewhere. That, I believe, was the theory. Lebezyatnikov, for example, was never anything to do with anything.’
‘And Professor Tatiscev?’
‘Professor Tatiscev is a respected member of the University of St Petersburg’s teaching staff, as you know.’
‘Why did Kozodavlev have to die?’
‘Did he?’
‘Did Dyavol kill him? Perhaps it amused him?’
‘He may have put the idea in someone’s head. The Devil works like that, you know.’
‘But you don’t believe in the Devil.’
‘It’s a useful figure of speech.’
‘And Dyavol is a man.’
‘Sometimes I forget.’
Virginsky smiled. ‘What do our people call you, Dolgoruky? Alyosha Afanasevich is called Hunger. .’
‘He is?’
‘So he tells me.’
‘I have never heard anyone call him that.’
‘He says that I shall be known as the Fiend.’
‘I think we shall just call you Magistrate. Or Magistrate-Slayer.’
‘He is not dead. Porfiry Petrovich is not dead.’ Virginsky spoke urgently, pleadingly almost.
Dolgoruky frowned distractedly. ‘Not yet. But we may hope.’
‘Of course.’ Virginsky nodded strenuous agreement. He affected a joviality that was not entirely convincing. ‘But you didn’t answer me. They must call you something.’
‘I am the Prince, of course.’ Dolgoruky cackled to himself, his eyes skittering wildly as if buffeted by the shockwaves of his laughter. Then he fell silent, as abruptly — and madly — as he had begun laughing. His expression snapped into seriousness. ‘But, God, you must be bored, cooped up in here.’
‘I have no choice, for the time being.’
‘Of course you have a choice. One always has a choice.’ Dolgoruky took hold of Virginsky’s arm and began to pull. There was something boyish about his eagerness and insistence. ‘Come on! A bit of fresh air will do you good.’
‘I have been told to stay put. Not even to show myself at a window. It is for the best.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘What if I am picked up? The central committee — ’
‘Hang the central committee.’
‘But Tatyana Ruslanovna. .’
‘Ah now! That’s a different matter! Tatyana Ruslanovna! What an admirable woman! You do admire her, don’t you, Magistrate?’
‘Yes.’
‘Naturally. We all admire her. And she admires you. Your recent escapade has impressed her tremendously. That I have heard.’
‘You have?’
‘Indubitably.’
‘From Tatyana Ruslanovna in person?’
‘From someone very close to her.’
Virginsky frowned, as if the idea of someone very close to Tatyana Ruslanovna distressed him.
‘From Dyavol, no less.’ Dolgoruky could not resist making his hints explicit.
‘They are very attached to one another.’
‘I see.’
‘There is no need for jealousy. Both Dyavol and Tanya are new people. Both believe that a woman should be free to love wherever her heart leads her. Such old-fashioned notions as fidelity, and therefore infidelity, do not trouble them. If Tanya takes it into her head to give herself to you, Dyavol will not stand in her way.’
‘But he might write a nasty article about me in ten years’ time.’
‘It would be more Dyavol’s style to get you to write it yourself.’
‘You make it sound as though he can get anyone to do anything.’
‘I believe he can.’ Dolgoruky’s smile took on a particular quality. ‘He can make you leave this apartment. Today. Right this minute, in fact.’
Virginsky angled his head sceptically.
‘You want to meet him, don’t you?’ teased Dolgoruky.
‘You said that was out of the question.’
‘Nothing is out of the question, as far as Dyavol is concerned. Come with me, and I will take you to him.’
A white radiance, a sudden spill of spring, momentarily filled the apartment, cascading in from all the windows at once. Virginsky felt it enter his heart, emptying it of its anxieties, expanding it with light and levity. In that moment, he made his decision. ‘Very well.’
The all-encompassing flare faded as quickly as it had arrived. In its passing, Virginsky saw the particular quality he had noticed in Dolgoruky’s smile intensify. There seemed in it something malevolent and heartless that was directed entirely at Virginsky. It was unmistakably personal.
A cleansing solution
A crowded omnibus ground its way lugubriously down the centre of the broad avenue, the horses’ hooves clashing angrily with the cobbles. It was like a giant, round-shouldered beetle trudging unthinkingly along a predetermined path. Lighter, more limber vehicles — carriages, cabs and carts — passed either side of it in both directions, mayflies speeding off towards their destinies. Pedestrians dodged between the traffic: fashionable women in pairs, nursemaids with their infant charges, young bucks in military uniforms, cooks and housekeepers engrossed in the day’s marketing. A tradesman in cap and apron cleared the deposits of manure from the road in front of his store.