 CHAPTER 18. I arrived at the barrens punctually at eight o'clock. His flat was in a small side street off the English key. I paused for a moment before turning into its dark recesses to gather in the vast expanse of the frozen river and the long white key. It was as though I had found my way behind a towering wall that now closed me in with a smile of contemptuous derision. There was no sound in the shining air, and the only figure was a guard who moved monotonously up and down outside the winter palace. I rang the bell, and the schwitzer, bowing very ceremoniously, told me the flat was on the second floor. I went up a broad stone staircase and found a heavy oak door with brass nails confronting me. When this slowly swung open, I discovered a very old man with white hair bowing before me. He was a splendid figure in a uniform of dark blue, his tall thin figure straight and slim, his white mustaches so neat and fierce that they seemed to keep guard over the rest of his face as though they warned him that they would stand no nonsense. There was an air of hushed splendor behind him, and I could hear the heavy solemn ticking of a clock keeping guard over all the austere sanctities of the place. When I had taken off my shuba and galoshes, I was ushered into a magnificent room with a high gold clock on the mantelpiece, gilt chairs, heavy dark carpets, and large portraits frowning from the gray walls. The whole room was bitterly silent save for the tick of the clock. There was no fire in the fireplace, but a large gleaming white stove flung out a closed scented heat from the further corner of the room. There were two long glass bookcases, some little tables with gilt legs, and a fine Japanese screen of dull gold. The only other piece of furniture was a huge grand piano near the window. I sat down and was instantly caught into the solemn silence. There was something threatening in the hush of it all. We do what we're told the clock seemed to say and so must you. I thought of the ice and snow beyond the windows, and in spite of myself shivered. Then the door opened and the barren came in. He stood for a moment by the door, staring in front of him as though he could not penetrate the heavy and dusky air, and seen thus under the height and space of the room he seemed so small as to be almost ridiculous. But he was not ridiculous for long. As he approached one was struck at once by the immaculate efficiency that followed him like a protecting shadow. In himself he was a scrupulously neat old man with weary and dissipated eyes, but behind the weariness the neatness and dissipation was a spirit of indomitable determination and resolution. He wore a little white imperial and a long white mustache. His hair was brushed back and his forehead shone like marble. He wore a black suit, white spats, and long pointed black patent leather shoes. He had the smallest feet I have ever seen on any man. He greeted me with great courtesy. His voice was soft and he spoke perfect English, save for a very slight accent that was rather charming. This gave his words a certain naivete. He rubbed his hands and smiled in a gentle but determined way as though he meant no harm by it, but had decided that it was a necessary thing to do. I forgot of what we talked, but I know that I surrendered myself at once to an atmosphere that had been strange to me for so long that I had almost forgotten its character, an atmosphere of discipline, order, comfort, and above all of security. My mind flew to the Markovitches and I smiled to myself at the thought of the contrast. Then strangely when I had once thought of the Markovitch flat the picture haunted me for the rest of the evening. I could see the barrens' gilt chairs and gold clock, his little imperial and shining shoes only through the cloudy disorder of the Markovitch tables and chairs. There was poor Markovitch in his dark little room perched on his chair with his boots, with his hands, with his hair, and there was poor uncle and there poor Vera. Why was I pitying them? I gloried in them. That is Russia. This is, allow me to introduce you to my wife, the barren said, bending forward, the very points of his toes expressing amiability. The barreness was a large, solid lady with a fine white bosom and strong white arms. Her face was homely and kind. I saw at once that she adored her husband. Her placid smile carried beneath its placidity a tremulous anxiety that he should be pleased. And her mild eyes swam in the light of his encouragement. I was sure, however, that the calm and discipline that I felt in the things around me came as much from her domesticity as from his discipline. She was a fortunate woman in that she had attained the ambition of her life to govern the household of a man whom she could both love and fear. Lawrence came in and we went through high folding doors into the dining room. This room had dark blue wallpaper, electric lights heavily shaded and soft heavy carpets. The table itself was flooded with light. The rest of the room was dusk. I wondered as I looked about me why the Wilderlings had taken Lawrence as a paying guest. Before my visit I had imagined that they were poor as so many of the better class Russians were. But here were no signs of poverty. I decided that our dinner was good and the wine was excellent. We talked of course politics and the Baron was admirably frank. I won't disguise from you, Monsieur Derwood. He said that some of us watch your English effort at winning the heart of this country with sympathy. But also if I am not offending you with some humor. I'm not speaking only of your propaganda efforts. You've got, I know, one or two literary gentlemen here, a novelist I think and a professor and a journalist. Well, soon you'll find them inefficient and decide that you must have some commercial gentleman and then disappointed with them you'll decide for the military and still the great heart of Russia will remain untouched. Yes, I said, because your class are determined that the peasant shall remain uneducated and until he is educated he will be unable to approach any of us. Quite so, said the Baron, smiling at me very cheerfully. I perceive, Monsieur Derwood, that you are a Democrat. So are we all these days. You look surprised. But I assure you that the good of the people in the interests of the people is the only thing for which any of us care. Only some of us know Russia pretty well. And we know that the Russian peasant is not ready for liberty. And if you were to give him liberty tonight, you would plunge his country into the most desperate torture of anarchy and carnage known in history. A little more soup? We are offering you only a slight dinner. Yes, but Baron, I said, would you tell me when it is intended that the Russian peasant shall begin his upward course towards light and learning? If that day is to be forever postponed? It will not be forever postponed, said the Baron gently. Let us finish the war and education shall be given slowly under wise direction to every man, woman and child in the country. Our czar is the most liberal ruler in Europe, and he knows what is good for his children. And proto pop off and Sturmer, I asked. Proto pop off is a zealous, loyal liberal, but he has been made to see during these last months that Russia is not at this moment ready for freedom. Sturmer, well, Monsieur Sturmer is gone. So you yourself, Baron, I asked, would oppose at this moment all reform? With every drop of blood in my body, he answered, and his hand flat against the tablecloth quivered. At this crisis, admit one change, and your dyke is burst, your land flooded. Every Russian is asked at this moment to believe in simple things, his religion, his czar, his country. Grant your reforms. And in a week, every babbler in the country will be off his head, talking, screaming, fighting. The Germans will occupy Russia at their own good time. You will be beaten on the West and civilization will be set back 200 years. The only hope for Russia is unity. And for unity, you must have discipline. And for discipline in Russia at any rate, you must have an autocracy. As he spoke, the furniture, the gray walls, the heavy carpets seem to whisper an echo of his words, unity, discipline, discipline, autocracy, autocracy, autocracy. Then tell me, Baron, I said, if it isn't an important question, do you feel so secure in your position that you have no fears at all? Does such a crisis as, for instance, Milyukov's protest last November mean nothing? You know the discontent. Is there no fear? Fear, he interrupted me, his voice swift and soft and triumphant. Mr. Derwood, are you so ignorant of Russia that you consider the outpourings of a few idealistic intelligentsia, professors and teachers and poets as important? What about the people, Mr. Derwood? You ask any peasant in the Moscow government, or little Russia, or the Ukraine, whether he will remain loyal to his little father or no? Ask, and the question you suggested to me will be answered. Then you feel both secure and justified, I said. We feel both secure and justified, he answered me, smiling. After that, our conversation was personal and social. Lawrence was very quiet. I observed that the baroness had a motherly affection for him, that she saw that he had everything that he wanted, and that she gave him every now and then little friendly confidential smiles. As the meal proceeded, as I drank the most excellent wine, and the warm austerity of my surroundings gathered ever more closely around me, I wondered whether after all my apprehensions and forebodings of the last weeks had not been the merest sick man's cowardice. Surely, if any kingdom in the world was secure, it was this official Russia. I could see it stretching through the space and silence of that vast land, its servants in every village, its paths and roads, all leading back to the central citadel, its whispered orders flying through the air from district to district, its judgments, its rewards, its sins, its virtues, resting upon a basis of superstition and ignorance and apathy, the three sure friends of autocracy through history. And on the other side, who? The rat, Boris Grogov, Markovitch. Yes, the baron had reason for his confidence. I thought for a moment of that figure that I had seen on Christmas Eve by the river. The strong grave bearded peasant, whose gaze had seemed to go so far beyond the bounds of my own vision. But no, Russia's mystical peasant, that was an old tale. Once on the front, when I had seen him facing the enemy with bare hands, I had myself believed it. Now I thought once more of the rat. That was the type whom I must now confront. I had a most agreeable evening. I do not know how long it had been since I had tasted luxury and comfort and the true fruits of civilization. The baron was a most admirable teller of stories, with a capital sense of humor. After dinner, the baronists left us for half an hour, and the baron became very pleasantly Rabilazian. Speaking of his experiences in Paris and London, Vienna and Berlin so easily and with so ready a wit that the evening flew, the baronists returned and seeing that it was after eleven, I made my farewells. Lawrence said that he would walk with me down the key before turning into bed. My host and hostess pressed me to come as often as possible. The baron's last words to me were, have no fears, Mr. Derward, there is much talk in this country, but we are a lazy people. The we rang strangely in my ears. He's of course no more a Russian than you or I, I said to Lawrence as we started down the key. Oh yes he is, Lawrence said, quite genuine, not a drop of German blood in spite of the name. But he's a Prussian at heart, a Prussian of the Prussians. By that I don't mean in the least that he wants Germany to win the war, he doesn't. His interests are all here and you may not believe me, but I assure you he's a patriot. He loves Russia and he wants what's best for her and believes that to be autocracy. After that Lawrence shut up. He would not say another word. We walked for a long time in silence. The evening was most beautiful. A golden moon flung the snow into dazzling relief against the deep black of the palaces. Across the Neva, the line of towers and minarets and chimneys ran like a huge fissure in the golden light from sky to sky. You said there was something you wanted to ask my advice about. I broke the silence. He looked at me with a long, slow considering stare. He mumbled something. Then with a sudden gesture he gripped my arm and his heavy body quivering with the urgency of his words. He said, it's Vera Markovich. I'd give my body and soul and spirit for her happiness and safety. God forgive me. I'd give my country and my honor. I ache and long for her so that I'm afraid for my sanity. I've never loved a woman nor lusted for one nor touched one in my whole life downward and now and now I've gone right in. I've spoken no word to anyone but I couldn't stand my own silence. Dare word, you've got to help me. I walked on seeing the golden light and the curving arc of snow and the little figures moving like dolls from light to shadow. Lawrence. I had never thought of him as an urgent lover. Even now, although I could still feel his hand quivering on my arm, I could have laughed at the ludicrous incongruity of romance and that stolid, thick-set figure. And at the same time I was afraid. Lawrence in love was no boy on the threshold of life like Bowen. Here was no trivial passion. I realized even in that first astonished moment the trouble that might be in store for all of us. Look here, Lawrence, I said at last. The first thing that you may as well realize is that it is hopeless. Vera Mikolovna has confided in me a good deal lately and she is devoted to her husband, thinks of nothing else. She's simple, naive, with all her sense and wisdom. Hopeless, he interrupted. And he gave a kind of grim chuckle of derision. My dear Dare word, what do you suppose I'm after? Rape and adultery and Markovitch after us with a pistol? I tell you, and here he spoke fiercely, as though he were challenging the whole icebound world around us. That I want nothing but her happiness, her safety, her comfort. Do you suppose that I'm such an ass as not to recognize the kind of thing that my loving her would lead to? I tell you I'm after nothing for myself. And that's not because I'm a fine, unselfish character, but simply because the thing's too big to let anything into it but herself. She shall never know that I care too pence about her, but she's got to be happy and she's got to be safe. Just now she's neither of those things, and that's why I've spoken to you. She's unhappy and she's afraid, and that's got to change. I wouldn't have spoken of this to you if I thought you'd be so short-sighted. All right, all right, I said testily, you may be a kind of Galahad Lawrence outside all natural law. I don't know, but you'll forgive me if I go for a moment on my own experience. And that experience is that you can start on as high brow and elevation as you like, but love doesn't stand still and the body's the body and tomorrow isn't yesterday, not by no means. Moreover, Markovitch is a Russian and a peculiar one at that. Finally, remember that I want Vera Mikolovna to be happy quite as much as you do. He was suddenly grave and almost boyish in his next words. I know that. You're a decent chap, Derward. I know it's hard to believe me, but I just ask you to wait and test me. No one knows of this, that I'd swear, and no one shall. But what's the matter with her, Derward, what's she afraid of? That's why I spoke to you. You know her, and I'll throttle you here where we stand if you don't tell me just what the trouble is. I don't care for confidences or anything of this sort. You must break them all and tell me. His hand was on my arm again, his big ugly face, now grim and obstinate, close against mine. I'll tell you, I said slowly, all I know, which is almost nothing. The trouble is Semyonov, the doctor. Why or how, I can't say, although I've seen enough of him in the past to know the trouble he can be. She's afraid of him, and Markovich is afraid of him. He likes playing on people's nerves. He's a bitter, disappointed man who loved desperately once, as only real sensualists can. And now he's in love with a ghost. That's why real life maddens him. Semyonov, Lawrence whispered the name. We had come to the end of the key. My dear church with its round gray walls stood glistening in the moonlight. The shadows from the snow rippling up its sides, as though it lay under water. We stood and looked across the river. I've always hated that fellow, Lawrence said. I've only seen him about twice, but I believe I hated him before I saw him. All right, Derwood, that's what I wanted to know. Thank you. Good night. And before I could speak, he had gripped my hand, had turned back, and was walking swiftly away across the golden-lighted key. End of Chapter 18 Chapter 19 of The Secret City. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Rita Butros. The Secret City by Hugh Walpole. Chapter 19 From the moment that Lawrence left me, vanishing into the heart of the snow and ice, I was obsessed by a conviction of approaching danger and peril. It has been one of the most disastrous weaknesses of my life, that I have always shrunk from precipitate action. Before the war, it had seemed to many of us that life could be jockeied into decisions by words and theories and speculations. The swift, and as it were, revengeful precipitancy of the last three years had driven me into a self-distrust and cowardice which had grown and grown until life had seemed veiled and distant and mysteriously obscure. From my own obscurity, against my will, against my courage, against my own knowledge of myself, circumstances were demanding that I should advance and act. It was of no avail to myself that I should act unwisely, that I should perhaps only precipitate a crisis that I could not help. I was forced to act when I would have given my soul to hold a and in this town whose darkness and light, intriguing display, words and action seemed to derive some mysterious force from the very soil, from the very air, the smallest action achieved monstrous proportions. When you have lived for some years in Russia, you do not wonder that its citizens prefer inaction to demonstration. The soil is so much stronger than the men who live upon it. Nevertheless, for a fortnight I did nothing, private affairs of an especially tiresome kind filled my days. I saw neither Lawrence nor Vera, and during that period I scarcely left my rooms. There was much expectation in the town that February 14th, when the Duma was appointed to meet, would be a critical day. Fine things were said of the challenging speeches that would be made, of the firm stand that the cadet party intended to take, of the crisis with which the court party would be faced. Of course nothing occurred. It may be safely said that, in Russian affairs, no crisis occurs, either in the place or at the time, or in the manner in which it is expected. Time with us here refuses to be caught by the throat. That is the revenge that it takes on the scorn with which, in Russia, it is always covered. On the 20th of February, I received an invitation to Nina's birthday party. She would be 18 on the 28th. She scribbled at the bottom of Vera's note, Dear Dirtles, if you don't come I will never forgive you. You're loving Nina. The immediate problem was a present. I knew that Nina adored presence, but Petrograd was now no easy place for purchases, and I wished I suppose as a kind of tribute to her youth and freshness and color, to give her something for which she would really care. I sallied out on a wonderful afternoon when the town was a blaze of color, the walls dark red, dark brown, violet, pink, and the snow, a dazzling glitter of crystal. The bells were ringing for some festival, echoing as do no other bells in the world from wall to wall, roof to roof, canal to canal. Everybody moved as though they were inspired with a gay sense of adventure, men and women laughing. The isvastiks surveying possible fairs with an eye less patronizing and lugubrious than usual. The flower women and the beggars and the little Chinese boys and the wicked old men who stare at you as though they were dreaming of eastern debauches, shared in the sun and tang of the air and high color of the sky and snow. I pushed my way into the shop in the morskaya that had the colored stones, the blue and azure and purple stones in the window. Inside the shop which had a fine gleaming floor and an old man with a tired eye, there were stones of every color, but there was nothing there for Nina. All was too elaborate and grand. Near the nevsky is a fine shop of pictures with snow scenes and blue rivers and Italian landscapes and copies of Repin and Verus Chegin and portraits of the Tsar. I searched here but all were too sophisticated in their bright brown frames and their air of being the latest thing from Paris and London. Then I crossed the road, threading my way through the carriages and motocars, past the old white-bearded sweeper with the broom held aloft, gazing at the sky and plunged into the English shop to see whether I might buy something warm for Nina. Here indeed I could fancy that I was in the high street in Chester or Leicester or Truro or Canterbury. A demure English provincialism was over everything and a young man in a high white collar and a shiny black coat washed his hands as he told me that they hadn't any in stock at the moment, but they were expecting a delivery of goods at any minute. Russian shopmen, it is almost needless to say, do not care whether they have goods in stock or no. They have other things to think about. The air was filled with the chatter of English governesses and an English clergyman and his wife were earnestly turning over a selection of woollen comforters. Nothing here for Nina, nothing at all. I hurried away. With a sudden flash of inspiration I realized that it was in the Jews market that I would find what I wanted. I snatched at the bulging neck of a sleeping coachman and before he was fully awake was in his sledge and had told him my destination. He grumbled and wished to know how much I intended to pay him and when I said one and a half rubles answered that he would not take me for less than three. I threatened him then with the fat and good-natured policemen who always guarded the confused junction of the Morskaya and Nevsky and he was frightened and moved on. I sighed as I remembered the days not so long before when that same coachman would have thought it an honor to drive me for a half a ruble. Down the sedovia we slipped bumping over the uneven surface of the snow and the shops grew smaller and the cinemas more stringent and the women and men with their barrows of fruit and colored note paper and toys more frequent. Then through the market with the booths and the church with its golden towers until we stood before the hooded entrance to the Jews paradise. I paid him and without listening to his discontented cries pushed my way in. The Jews market is a series of covered arcades with a square in the middle of it and in the middle of the square a little church with some doll-like trees. These arcades are western in their hideous covering of glass and the ugliness of the exterior of the wooden shops that line them but the crowd that throngs them is eastern so that in the strange eyes and voices the wild gestures the laughs the cries the singing and the dancing that meets one here. It is as though a new world was suddenly born a world offensive dirty a valuable black guardedly perhaps but intriguing tempting and ironical. The arcades are generally so crowded that one can move only at a slow pace and on every side is pestered by the equivalents of the old English cry what do you lack what do you lack. Every mixture of blood and race that the world contains is to be seen here but they are all Tartars, Jews, Chinese, Japanese, Indians, Arabs, Muslim and Christian formed by some subtle color of atmosphere so that they seem all alike to be citizens of some secret little town sprung to life just for a day in the heart of this other city perhaps it is the dull pale mist that the glass flings down perhaps it is the uncleanly dust clogged air whatever it be there is a stain of gray shadowy smoke upon all this world and icons and shabby jewels and piles of eastern clothes and old brass pots and silver hilted swords and golden tassel tartar coats gleam through the shadow and wink and stare today the arcades were so crowded that I could scarcely move and the noise was deafening many soldiers were there looking with indulgent amusement upon the scene and the Jews with their skull caps and the fat huge breasted Jewish women screamed and shrieked and wave their arms like bows in a storm I stopped at many shops and fingered the cheap silver toys the little blue and green icons the buckles and beads and rosaries that throng the trays but I could not find anything for Nina then suddenly I saw a square box of mother of pearl and silver so charming and simple the figures on the silver lid so gracefully carved that I decided at once the Jew in charge of it wanted twice as much as I was ready to give and we argued for 10 minutes before a kindly and appreciative crowd at last we arranged the compromise and I moved away pleased and satisfied I stepped out of the arcade and faced the little square it was at that instant fantastic and oddly colored the sun about to set hung in the misty sky a perfect round crimson glow and it was perched almost maliciously just above the tower of the little church the rest of the world was gray the square was a thick mass of human beings so tightly wedged together that it seemed to move backwards and forwards like a floor of black wood pushed by a lever one lamp burnt behind the window of the church the old houses leaned forward as though listening to the babble below their eaves but it was the sun that seemed to me then so evil and secret and cunning its deep red was aloof and menacing and its outline so sharp that it was detached from the sky as though it were human and would presently move and advance towards us I don't know what there was in that crowd of struggling human beings and that detached red sun the air was cruel and through all the arcades that seemed to run like veins to this heart of the place I could feel the cold and the dark and the smoky dusk creeping forward to veil us all with deepest night I turned away and then saw advancing towards me as though he had just come from the church pushing his way and waving a friendly hand to me semi-on-off end of chapter 19 chapter 20 of the secret city this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Rita Butros the secret city by Hugh Wellpole chapter 20 his greeting was most amiable he was wearing a rather short fur coat that only reached to a little below his knees and the fur of the coat was of a deep rich brown so that his pale square yellow beard contrasted with this so abruptly as to seem false his body was as ever thick and self-confident and the round fur cap that he wore was cocked ever so slightly to one side I did not want to see him but I was caught I fancied that he knew very well that I wanted to escape and that now for sheer perversity he would see that I did not indeed he caught my arm and drew me out of the market we passed into the dusky streets now Ivan Andreevich he said this is very pleasant very you allude me you know which is unkind with two so old acquaintances of course I know that you dislike me and I don't suppose that I have the highest opinion of you but nevertheless we should be interested in one another our common experience he broke off with a little shiver and pulled his fur coat closer around him I knew that all that I wanted was to break away we had passed quickly on leaving the market into some of the meanest streets of Petrograd this was the Petrograd of Dostoevsky the Petrograd of poor folk and crime and punishment and the despised and rejected monstrous groups of flats towered above us and in the gathering dusk the figures that slipped in and out of the doors were furtive shadows and ghosts no one seemed to speak you could see no faces under the spare pale flamed lamps only hear whispers and smell rotten stinks and feel the snow foul and soiled under one's feet look here Samionov I said slipping from the control of his hand it's just as you say we don't like one another and we know one another well enough to say so neither you nor I wish to revive the past and there's nothing in the present that we have in common nothing he laughed what about my delightful nieces and their home circle you were always one to shrink from the truth Ivan Andreevich you fancy that you can sink into the bosom of a charming family and escape the disadvantages not at all there are always disadvantages in a Russian family I am the disadvantage in this one he laughed again and insisted on taking my arm once more if you feel so strongly about me der ward when he used my surname he always accentuated the second syllable very strongly all you have to do is to cut my niece Vera out of your visiting list that I imagine is the last thing that you wish well then Vera Mikolovna is my friend I said hotly it was foolish of me to be so easily provoked but I could not endure his sneering tone if you imply nonsense he answered sharply I imply nothing do you suppose that I have been more than a month here without discovering the facts it's your English friend Lawrence who is in love with Vera and Vera with him that is a lie I cried he laughed you English he said are not so unobservant as you seem but you hate facts Vera and your friend Lawrence have been in love with one another since their first meeting and my dear nephew-in-law Markovitch knows it that's impossible I cried he no Semyonov replied I was wrong he does not know it he suspects and my nephew-in-law in a state of suspicion is a delightful study by now we were in a narrow street so dark that we stumbled at every step we seemed to be quite alone it was I who now caught his arm Semyonov I said and my urgency stopped him so that he stood where he was leave them alone leave them alone they've done no harm to you they can offer you nothing they are not intelligent enough for you nor amusing enough even if it is true what you say it will pass Lawrence will go away I will see that he does only leave them alone for God's sake let them be his face was very close to mine and looking at it in the gathering dark it was as though it were a face of glass behind which other faces passed and repast I cannot hope to give any idea of the strange mingling of regret malice pride pain scorn and humor that those eyes showed his red lips parted as though he would speak for a moment he turned away from me and looked down the black tunnel of the street then he walked forward again you are wrong my friend he said if you imagine that there is no amusement for me in this study of my family it is my family you know I have none other perhaps it has never occurred to you der ward that possibly I am a lonely man as he spoke I heard again the echo of that voice as it vanished into the darkness no one and the answer no one don't imagine he continued that I am asking for your pity that indeed would be humorous I pity no one and I despise the men who have it to bestow but there are situations in life that are intolerable Ivan Andreevich and any man who is a man will see that he escapes from such a thing may I not find in the bosom of my family such an escape he laughed I know nothing about that I began hotly all I know is but he went on as though he had not heard me have you ever thought about death since you came away from the front to der ward it used to occupy your mind a good deal while you were there I remember in a foolish romantic sentimental way of course you'll forgive me saying that your views of death were those of a secondhand novelist all the same I'll do you the justice of acknowledging that you had studied it at first hand you're not a coward you know I was struck most vividly with a sense of his uneasiness during those other days uneasy was the very last thing that I ever would have said that he was even after his catastrophe his grip of his soul did not loosen it was just that loosening that I felt now he had less control of the beast that dwelt beneath the ground of his house and he could hear them snarl and whine and could feel the floor quiver with the echo of their movements I suddenly knew that I was afraid of him no longer now see Alexey Petrovich I said it isn't death that we want to talk about now it is a much simpler thing it is that you shouldn't for your own amusement simply go in and spoil the lives of some of my friends for nothing at all except your own stupid pride if that's your plan I'm going to prevent it why Ivan Andreevich he cried laughing this is a challenge you can take it at what you please I answered gravely but incorrigible sentimentalist he went on tell me are you English and moralist and believer in a good and righteous God as you are are you really going to encourage this abominable adultery this open ruthless wrecking of a good man's home you surprise me this is a new light on your otherwise rather uninteresting character never mind my character I answered him all you've got to do is to leave Vera Mikolovna alone there'll be no wrecking of homes unless you are the wrecker he put his hand on my arm again listen to a word he said I'll tell you a little story I'm a doctor you know and many curious things occur within my province well some years ago I knew a man who was very miserable and very proud his pride resented that he should be miserable and he was always suspecting that people saw his weakness and as he despised human nature and thought his companions fools and deserving of all that they got and more he couldn't bear the thought that they should perceive that he allowed himself to be unhappy he coveted death if it meant extinction he would imagine nothing pleasanter than so restful and aloofness quiet and apart and alone whilst others hurried and scrambled and pursued the future and if death did not mean extinction then he thought that he might snatch and secure for himself something which in life had eluded him so he coveted death but he was too proud to reach it by suicide that seemed to him a contemptible and cowardly evasion and such an easy solution would have denied the purpose of all his life so he looked about him and discovered amongst his friends a man whose character he knew well a man idealistic and foolish and romantic like yourself Ivan Andreevich only caring more for ideas more impulsive and more reckless he found this man and made him his friend he played with him as a cat does with a mouse he enjoyed life for about a year and then he was murdered murdered I exclaimed yes shot by his idealistic friend I envy him that year he must have experienced many breathless sensations when the murderer was tried his only explanation was that he had been irritated and disappointed disappointed of what asked the judge of everything in which he believed said the man it seemed a poor excuse for a murder he is still I have no doubt in Siberia but I envy my friend that was a delightful death to die good night Ivan Andreevich he waved his hand at me and was gone I was quite alone in the long black street engulfed by the high overhanging flats end of chapter 20 chapter 21 of The Secret City this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Rita Butros The Secret City by Hugh Wellpole chapter 21 late on the afternoon of Nina's birthday when I was on the point of setting out for the English prospect the rat appeared I had not seen him for several weeks but there he was stepping suddenly out of the shadows of my room dirty and disreputable and cheerful he had been I perceived drinking furniture polish good evening Baron good evening I said sternly I told you not to come here when you were drunk I'm not drunk he said offended only a little it's not much that you can get these days I want some money Baron I've none for you I answered it's only a little God knows that I wouldn't ask you for much but I'm going to be very busy these next days and it's work that won't bring pay quickly they'll be paid later and then I will return it to you there's nothing for you tonight I said he laughed you're a fine man Baron a foreigner is fine that's where the poor Russian is unhappy I love you Baron and I will look after you and if as you say there isn't any money here one must pray to God and he will show one the way what's this work you're going to do I asked him there's going to be trouble the other side of the river in a day or two he answered and I'm going to help help what I asked help the trouble he answered smiling behave like a black guard in fact ah black guard Baron he protested using a Russian word that is worse than black guard why these names I'm not a good man God have mercy on my soul but then I pretend nothing I am what you see if there's going to be trouble in the town I may as well be there why not I as well as another and it is to your advantage Baron that I should be why to my advantage I asked him because I am your friend and will protect you he answered I wouldn't trust you a yard I told him well perhaps you're right he said we are as God made us I am no better than the rest no indeed you're not I answered him why do you think there'll be trouble I know perhaps a lot of trouble perhaps only a little but it will be a fine time for those of us who have nothing to lose so you have no money for me nothing a mere ruble or so nothing well I must be off I am your friend don't forget and he was gone it had been arranged that Nina and Vera Lawrence and Bowen and I should meet outside the Genesella at five minutes to eight I left my little silver box at the flat paid some other calls and just as eight o'clock was striking arrived outside the Genesella this is Petrograd's apology for a music hall in other words it is nothing but the good old fashioned circus then again it is not quite the circus of one's English youth because it has a very distinct Russian atmosphere of its own the point really is the enthusiasm of the audience because it is an enthusiasm that in these sophisticated 20th century days is simply not to be found in any other country in Europe I am an old fashioned man and quite frankly I adore a circus and when I can find one with the right sawdust smell the right clown and the right enthusiasm I am happy the smart night is a Saturday and then if you go you will see in the little horse boxes close to the arena beautiful women in jewelry and powder and young officers and fat merchants in priceless shubas but tonight was not a Saturday and therefore the audience was very democratic screaming catcalls from the misty distances of the gallery and showering sunflower seeds upon the heads of the bourgeoisie who were for the most part of the smaller shopkeeper kind Nina tonight was looking very pretty and excited she was wearing a white silk dress with blue bows and all her hair was piled on the top of her head in imitation of Vera but this only had the effect of making her seem incredibly young and naive as though she had put her hair up just for the evening because there was to be a party it was explained that Markovich was working but would be present at supper Vera was quiet but looked happier I thought than I had seen her for a long time Bohen was looking after her and Lawrence was with Nina I sat behind the four of them in the back of the little box like a presiding benevolence mostly I thought of how lovely Vera was tonight and why it was too that more people did not care for her I knew that she was not popular that she was considered proud and reserved and cold as she sat there now motionless her hands on her lap her whole being seemed to me to radiate goodness and gentleness and a loving heart I knew that she could be impatient with stupid people and irritated by sentimentality and infuriated by meanness and cruelty but the whole size and grandeur of her nobility seemed to me to shine all about her and set her apart from the rest of human beings she was not a woman whom I ever could have loved she had not the weaknesses and naivetes and appealing helplessness that drew love from one's heart nor could I have ever dared to face the depth and splendor of the passion that there was in her I was not built on that heroic scale God forgive me if as I watched them I felt a sudden glow of almost eager triumph at the thought of Lawrence as her lover I checked it my heart was suddenly heavy such a development could only mean tragedy and I knew it I had even sworn to send me on off that I would prevent it I looked at them and felt my helpless weakness who was I to prevent anything and who was there now in the whole world who would be guided by my opinion they might have me as a confidant because they trusted me but after that no I had no illusions I was pushed off the edge of the world hanging on still with one quivering hand soon my grip would loosen and God helped me I did not want to go Nina turned back to me and with a little excited clap of her hands drew my attention to the gallant Madame Ginicelli who although by no means a chicken a raid in silver tights and a large black picture hat stood on one foot on the back of her white horse and bowed to the already hysterical gallery Mr. Ginicelli cracked his whip and the white horse ambled along and the sawdust flew up into our eyes and Madame Ben Ternese first in and then out and the bourgeoisie clapped their hands and the gallery shouted brava Ginicelli cracked his whip and there was the clown Giacomino beloved of his Russian public as it was put on the program and indeed so he seemed to be for he was greeted with roars of applause there was nothing very especially Russian about him however and when he had taken his coat off and brushed a place on which to put it and then flung it on the ground and stamped on it I felt quite at home with him and ready for anything he called up one of the attendants and asked him whether he had ever played the guitar I don't know what it was that the attendant answered because something else suddenly transfixed my attention the vision of Nina's little white-gloved hand resting on Lawrence's broad knee I saw it once as though she had told me that she had committed herself to a most desperate venture I could fancy the resolution that she had summoned to take this step the way that now her heart would be furiously beating and the excited chatter with which she would try to cover up her action Vera and Bohan could not from where they were sitting see what she had done Lawrence did not move his back was set like a rock he stared steadfastly at the arena Nina never ceased talking her ribbons fluttering and her other hand gesticulating I could not take my eyes from that little white hand I should have been I suppose ashamed of her indignant for her but I could only feel that she was poor child in for the most desperate rebuff I could see from where I sat her cheek hot in crimson and her shrill voice never stopped the interval arrived to my intense relief and we all went out into the dark passage that smelt of sawdust and horses almost at once Nina detached me from the others and walked off with me towards the lighted hall you saw she said saw what I asked saw what I was doing I felt that she was quivering all over and she looked so ridiculously young with her trembling lip and blue hat on one side and burning cheeks that I felt that I wanted to take her into my arms and kiss and pet her I saw that you had your hand on his knee I said that was silly of you Nina why shouldn't I she answered furiously why shouldn't I enjoy life like everyone else why should Vera have everything Vera I cried what has it to do with Vera she didn't answer my question she put her hand on my arm pressing close up to me as though she wanted my protection Dirtles I want him for my friend I do I do when I look at him and think of Boris and the others I don't want to speak to any of them again I only want him for my friend I'm getting old now and they can't treat me as a child any longer I'll show them I know what I'll do if I can't have the friends I want and if Vera is always managing me I'll go off to Boris my dear Nina I said you mustn't do that you don't care for him no I know I don't but I will go if everybody thinks me a baby and Dirtles Dirtles please make him like me your Mr. Lawrence she said his name with the funniest little accent Nina dear I said will you take a little piece of advice from me what is it she asked out fully well this don't you make any move yourself just wait and you'll see he'll like you you'll make him shy if you but she interrupted me furiously in one of her famous tempers oh you Englishmen with your shyness and your waiting and your coldness I hate you all and I wish we were fighting with the Germans against you yes I do and I hope the Germans win you never have any blood you're all cold as ice and what do you mean spying on me yes you were sitting behind and spying you're always finding out what we're doing and putting it all down in a book I hate you and I won't ever ask your advice again she rushed off and I was following her when the bell rang for the beginning of the second part we all went in Nina chattering and laughing with Bohen just as though she had never been in a temper in her life then a dreadful thing happened we arrived at the box and Vera Bohen and Nina sat in the seats they had occupied before I waited for Lawrence to sit down but he turned round to me I say Doherd you sit next to Nina Mikolovna this time she'll be bored having me all the while no no I began to protest but Nina her voice shaking cried yes sturdles you sit down next to me please I don't think that Lawrence perceived anything he said very cheerfully that's right and I'll sit behind and see that you all behave I sat down and the second part began the second part was wrestling the bell rang the curtains parted and instead of the splendid horses and dogs there appeared a procession of some of the most obese and monstrous types of humanity almost naked they wandered round the arena mountains of flesh glistening in the electric light a little man all puffed up like a polter pigeon then advanced into the middle of the arena and was greeted with wild applause from the gallery to this he bowed and then announced in a terrific voice gentlemen you are about to see some of the most magnificent wrestling in the world allow me to introduce to you the combatants he then shouted out the names Yvon Strogov of Kiev Paul Rosing of Odessa Jacob Smieryov of Petrograd John Maris from Africa this the most hideous of Negroes Carl Tubilov of Helsingfors and so on the gentlemen named Smirked and Bound they all marched off and then in a moment one couple returned shook hands and under the breathless attention of the whole house began to wrestle they did not however command my attention I could think of nothing but the little crushed figure next to me I stole a look at her and saw that a large tear was hanging on one eyelash ready to fall I looked hurriedly away poor child and her birthday I cursed Lawrence for his clumsiness what did it matter she had put her hand on his knee he ought to have taken it and patted it but it was more than likely as I knew very well that he had never even noticed her action he was marvelously unaware of all kinds of things and it was only too possible that Nina scarcely existed for him I longed to comfort her and I did then a foolish thing I put out my hand and let it rest for a moment on her dress instantly she moved away with a sharp little gesture five minutes later I heard a little whisper turtles it's so hot here and I hate these naked men shall we go ask Vera the first bout had just come to an end the little man with the swelling chest was alone strutting up and down and answering questions hurled at him from the gallery Uncle Vanya where's Michael of Odessa oh he's a soldier in the army now Uncle Vanya Uncle Vanya Uncle Vanya well well what is it why isn't Charnaia Masca wrestling tonight oh he's busy what's he busy with never mind he's busy what's he busy with Uncle Vanya Uncle Vanya Sto isn't it true that Michael's dead now so they say is it true Uncle Vanya Uncle Vanya the message had passed along that Nina was tired and wanted to go we all moved out through the passage and into the cold fresh air it was quite time said Vera I was going to suggest it myself I hope you liked it said Lawrence politely to Nina no I hated it she answered furiously and turned her back on him it could not be said that the birthday party was promising very well End of Chapter 21 Chapter 22 of The Secret City This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Rita Butros The Secret City by Hugh Walpole Chapter 22 And yet for the first half hour it really seemed that it would go very well indeed it had been agreed that it was to be absolutely a family party and Uncle Ivan Semyonov and Boris Grogov were the only additions to our number Markovich was there of course and I saw it once that he was eager to be agreeable and to be the best possible host as I had often noticed before there was something pathetic about Markovich when he wished to be agreeable he had neither the figure nor the presence with which to be fascinating and he did not know in the least how to bring out his best points especially when he tried as he was sometimes ill advised to do to flirt with young girls he was a dismal failure he was intended by nature to be mysterious and malevolent and had he only had a malevolent spirit there would have been no tragedy but in the confused welter that he called his soul malevolence was the least of the elements and other things love sympathy twisted self-pity ambition courage and cowardice drowned it he was on his best behavior tonight 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 this could only be I was sure because Semyonov had been flattering him very soon I learned the truth I was standing near the table watching the company when I found Markovic at my side very glad you've come Ivan Andrejevich he said I've been meaning to 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's nothing we must postpone that to a more propitious time meanwhile meanwhile Ivan Andrejevich 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 bark of the tree you know a new kind of fiber for cloth if I hadn't got to look after these people here I'd take you and show you now you're a clever fellow you'd understand it once I've been showing it to Alexei he nodded in the direction of Semyonov and he entirely agrees with me that there is every kind of possibility in it the thing will be to get the labor that's the trouble nowadays but I'll find somebody one of these Timbermen so that was it was it I looked across at Semyonov who was now seated on Vera's right hand just opposite Boris Grogov he was very quiet very still looking about him his square pale beard a kind of symbol of the secret immobility of his soul I fancied that I detected behind his placidity an almost relieved self-satisfaction as though things were going very much better than he had expected so Alexei Petrovich thinks well of it does he I asked most enthusiastic answered Markovich eagerly he's gone into the thing thoroughly with me and has made some admirable suggestions Ivan Andreevich I think I should tell you I misjudged him I wasn't fair on what I said to you the other day about him or perhaps it is that being at the front has changed him softened him a bit his love affair there you know made him more sympathetic and kindly I believe he means well to us all Vera won't agree with me she is more cynical than she used to be I don't like that in her she never had a suspicious 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 tell her everything I answered everything his eyes suddenly narrowed his face was sharp and suspicious does she tell me everything answer me that Ivan Andreevich there was a time once but now I give my confidences where I'm trusted if she treated me fairly there was no chance to say more they called us to the table I took my place between Nina and Ivan as I have said the supper began very merrily Boris Grogov was I think a little drunk when he arrived at any rate he was noisy from the very beginning I have wondered often since whether he had any private knowledge that night which elated and excited him and was responsible in part perhaps for what presently occurred it may well have been so although at the time of course nothing of the kind occurred to me Nina appeared to have recovered her spirits she was sitting next to Lawrence and chattered and laughed with him in her ordinary fashion and now stupidly enough when I try to recall exactly the steps that led up to the catastrophe I find it difficult to see things clearly I remember that very quickly I was conscious that there was danger in the air 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 other side of the table and suddenly I said to myself he's expecting something to happen then directly after that I caught Vera's eye and I 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 got Lawrence to look after her now so readily does the spirit that is beyond 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 Grogov he was drinking heavily the rather poor Claret which Markovich had 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 if our 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 ever said before for certain everyone laughed and Grogov flushed oh it's easy to sneer he said just because there have been miserable cowards in Russian history you think it will always be so I tell you it is not so the time is coming when tyranny will topple from its throne and will show Europe the way to liberty by which you mean said Semyonov that you'll involve Russia in at least three more wars in addition to the one she's at present so magnificently losing I tell you screamed Grogov now so excited that he was standing on his feet and waving his glass in the air that this time you have not cowards to deal with this will not be as it was in 1905 I know of what I'm speaking Semyonov leaned over the table and whispered something in Markovic's ear I had seen that Markovic had already been longing to speak he jumped up onto 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 hearts broken Russia won't be mended by a few vaporing idiots who talk and talk without taking action what do you call me screamed Grogov I mentioned no names said Markovic his little eyes dancing with anger take it or no as you please but I say we have had enough of all this vaporing talk all this pretense of courage let us admit that freedom has failed in Russia that she must now submit herself to the yoke cowered cowered screamed Grogov it's you who are the cowered cried Markovic call me that and I'll show you I do call you it there was an instant pause during which we all of us had I suppose some idea of trying to intervene but it was too late Grogov raised his hand and with all his force flung his glass at Markovic Markovic ducked his head and the glass smashed with a shattering tinkle on the wall behind him we all cried out but the only thing of which I was conscious was that Lawrence had sprung from his seat had crossed to where Vera was standing and had put his hand on her arm she glanced up at him that look which they exchanged a look of revelation of happiness of sudden marvelous security was so significant that I could have cried out to them both look out look out but if I had cried they would not have heard me my next instinct was to turn to Markovic he was frowning coughing a little and feeling the top of his collar his face was turned towards Grogov and he was speaking could catch some words no right in my own house Boris I apologize please don't think of it but his eyes were not looking at Boris at all they were turned towards Vera 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 it was Nina who controlled the situation Boris she cried come here we all waited in silence he looked at her a little sulky his head hanging but his eyes glancing up at her he seemed nothing then but a boy caught in some misdemeanor 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 eyes commanding him how dare you Boris how dare you my birthday mine and you've spoiled it spoiled it all come here up close he came to her until his hands were almost on her body he hung his head standing over her she stood back as though she were going to strike him then suddenly with a laugh she sprang upon the chair beside her flung her arms around his neck and kissed him then still standing on the chair turned and faced us all now that's enough all of you Michael Uncle Yvonne Uncle Alexi Dirtles 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 spoiled she seemed to me so excited as not to know what she was saying what had she seen what did she know meanwhile Grogov was elated wildly pleased like a boy who contrary to all his expectations had won a prize he went up to Markovic with his handout Nicholas forgive me prestige I forgot myself I'm ashamed my abominable temper we are friends you are right too we talk here in Russia too much far too much and when the moment comes for action we shrink back we see too far perhaps who knows but you are right and I am a fool you've taught me a lesson by your nobility thank you Nicholas and all of you I apologize to all of you we moved away from the table Vera came over to us and then sat on the sofa with her arm around Nina's neck Nina was very quiet now sitting there her cheeks flushed smiling but as though she were thinking of something quite different someone proposed that we should play petit chevaux we gathered around the table and soon everyone was laughing and gambling only once I looked up and saw that Markovic was gazing at Vera and once again I looked at Vera and saw that she was staring before her seeing nothing lost in some vision but it was not of Markovic that she was thinking I was the first to leave I said good night to everyone I could hear their laughter as I waited at the bottom of the stairs for the Dvornik to let me out but when I was in the street the world was breathlessly still I walked up the prospect no soul was in sight only the scattered lamps the pale snow and the houses at the end of the canal I stopped the silence was intense it seemed to me then that in the very center of the canal the ice suddenly cracked slowly pulled apart leaving a still pool of black water the water slowly stirred rippled then a long horned and scaly head pushed up I could see the shining scales on its thick side and the ribbed horn on the back of the neck beneath it the water stirred and heaved with dead glazed eyes it stared upon the world then slowly as though it were drawn from below it sank the water rippled in narrowing circles then all was still the moon came out from behind filmy shadow the world was intensely light and I saw that the ice of the canal had never been broken and that no pool of black water caught the moon's rays it was fiercely cold and I hurried home pulling my shuba more closely about me end of chapter 22 part 2 chapter 1 of the secret city this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Richard Orte The Secret City by Hugh Walpole part 2 chapter 1 Lawrence of some of the events that I am now about to relate it is obvious that I could not have been an eyewitness and yet looking back from the strange isolation that is now my world I find it incredibly difficult to realize what I saw and what I did not was I with Nina and Vera on that Tuesday night when they stood face to face with one another for the first time was I with Markovich during his walk through that marvellous new world that he seemed himself to have created I know that I shared none of these things and yet it seems to me that I was at the heart of them all I may have been told many things by the actors in those events I may not I cannot now in retrospect see any of it save as my own personal experience and as my own personal experience I must relate it but as I have already said at the beginning of this book no one is compelled to believe either my tale or my interpretation every man would I suppose like to tell his story in the manner of some other man I can conceive the events of this part of my narration being interpreted in the spirit of the wildest farce of the gentlest comedy of the most humorous satire other men other gifts I am a dull and pompous fellow as Semyonov often tells me and I hope that I never allowed him to see how deeply I felt the truth of his words meanwhile I will begin with a small adventure of Henry Bowens apparently one evening soon after Nina's party he found himself about half past ten in the evening lonely and unhappy walking down the Nevsky gay and happy crowds wandered by him brushing him aside refusing to look at him showing in fact no kind of interest in his existence he was suddenly frightened the distances seemed terrific and the Nevsky was so hard and bright and shining that it had no use at all for any lonely young man he decided suddenly that he would go and see me he found in his Vostik but when they reached the Ekaterin-Govsky Canal the surly coachman refused to drive further saying that his horse had gone lame and that this was as far as he had bargained to go Henry was forced to leave the cab and then found himself outside the little people's cinema where once he had been with Vera and myself he knew that my rooms were not far away and he started off beside the white and silent canal wondering why he had come and wishing he were back in bed there was still a great deal of the baby in Henry and ghosts and giants and scaly headed monsters were not in credibilities to his young imagination as he left the main thoroughfare and turned down past the widening docks he suddenly knew that he was terrified there had been stories of wild attacks on rich strangers sandbagging and the rest often enough but it was not of that kind of thing that he was afraid he told me afterwards that he expected to see long thick crawling creatures creeping towards him over the ice he continually turned round to see whether someone were following him when he crossed the tumbledown bridge that led to my island it seemed that he was absolutely alone in the whole world the mast of the ships dimmed through the cold mist were like tangled spider's webs a strange hard red moon peered over the towers and chimneys of the distant dockyard the ice was limitless and of a dirty gray palo with black shadow streaking it my island must have looked desolate enough with its dirty snow heaps old boards and scrap iron and tumbledown cottages again as on his first arrival in petrograd henry was faced by the solemn fact that events are so often romantic in retrospect but grimly realistic in experience he reached my lodging and found the door open he climbed the dark rickety stairs and entered my sitting room the blinds were not drawn and the red moon peered through onto the gray shadows of the ice beyond always flung the stove was not burning the room was cold and deserted henry called my name and there was no answer he went into my bedroom and there was no one there he came back and stood there listening he could hear the creaking of some bar beyond the window and the melancholy whistle of a distant train he was held there as though spellbound suddenly he thought that he heard someone climbing the stairs he gave a cry and that was answered by a movement so close to him that it was almost at his elbow who's there? he cried he saw a shadow pass between the moon and himself in a panic of terror he cried out and at the same time struck a match someone came towards him and he saw that it was Markovich he was so relieved to find that it was a friend that he did not stop to wonder what Markovich should be doing hiding in my room it afterwards struck him that Markovich looked odd like a kind of conspirator in an old shabby shuba with the collar turned up he looked jolly ill and dirty as though he hadn't slept or washed he didn't seem a bit surprised at seeing me there and I think he scarcely realized that he was me he was thinking of something else so hard that he couldn't take me in oh born he said in a confused way hello Nikolai Leon Tevich Boen said trying to be unconcerned what are you doing here I came to see Ivan Andreevich he said wasn't here I was going to write to him Boen then lit a candle and discovered that the place was in a very considerable mess someone had been sifting my desk and papers and letters were lying about the floor the drawers at my table were open and one chair was overturned Markovich stood back near the window looking at Boen suspiciously there must have been a curious couple for such a position there was an awkward pause and then Boen trying to speak easily said well it seems the door isn't coming he's out dining somewhere I expect probably said Markovich dryly there was another pause then Markovich broke out with I suppose you think I've been here trying to steal something oh no oh no no Stammered Boen but I have said Markovich you can look around and see there it is on every side of you I've been trying to find a letter oh yes said Boen nervously well that seems to you terrible went on Markovich growing ever fiercer of course it seems to you perfect Englishman ain't a redful thing but why he did you all do things just as bad only you are hypocrites oh yes certainly said Boen and now said Markovich with a snarl I'm sure you will not think me a proper person for you to lodge with any longer and you will be right I am not a proper person I have no sense of decency thank god and no Russian has any sense of decency and that is why we are beaten and despised by the whole world and yet are finer than them all so you'd better not lodge with us any more but of course said Boen disliking more and more this uncomfortable scene of course I shall continue to stay with you you are my friends and one doesn't mind what one's friends do one's friends are one's friends suddenly then Markovich jerked himself forward just as though Boen afterwards described it to me he had shot himself out of a catapult tell me he said is your English friend in love with my wife what Boen wanted to do then was to run out of the room down the dark stairs and away as fast as his legs would carry him he had not been in Russia so long that he had lost his English dislike of scenes and he was seriously afraid that Markovich was as he put it bang off his head but at this critical moment he remembered it seems my injunction to him be kind to Markovich to make a friend of him that had always seemed to him before impossible enough but now at the very moment when Markovich was at his queerest he was also at his most pathetic looking there in the mist and shadows too untidy and dirty and miserable to be really alarming Henry then took courage that's all nonsense Markovich he said I suppose by your English friend you mean Lawrence he thinks the world of your wife of course as we all do but he's not the fellow to be in love I don't suppose he's ever been really in love with a woman in his life he's a kindly good-hearted chap Lawrence and he wouldn't do harm to a fly Markovich peered into Boen's face what did you come here for any of you yes what's Russia overrun with foreigners for we'll clear the lot of you out all of you then he broke off with a pathetic little gesture his hand up to his head but I don't know what I am saying I don't mean it really only things are so difficult and they slip away from one so I love Russia and I love my wife Mr. Boen and they've both left me but you aren't interested in that why should you be only remember when you're inclined to laugh at me that I'm like a man in a cockle-shell boat and it isn't my fault I was put in it but I'm never inclined to laugh said Boen eagerly I may be young and only an Englishman but I shouldn't wonder if I don't know but I shouldn't wonder if I don't understand better than you think you try and see I'll tell you another thing Nikolai Leãodovich I loved your wife myself loved her madly and she was so good to me and so far above me that I saw that it was like loving one of the angels that's what we all feel Nikolai Leãodovich so that you needn't have any fear she's too far above us all and I only want to be your friend and hers and to help you in any way I can I can see Boen saying this very sincere his cheeks flushed eager Markovich held out both his hands you're right he cried she's above us all it's true that she's an angel and we are all her servants you have helped me by saying what you have and I won't forget it you are right I am wasting my time with ridiculous suspicions when I ought to be working concentration that's what I want and perhaps you will give it me he suddenly came forward and kissed Boen on both cheeks he smelled Boen thought of vodka Boen didn't like the embrace of course but he accepted it gracefully now we'll go away said Markovich we ought to put things straight said Boen no I shall leave things as they are said Markovich so that he shall see exactly what I've done I'll write the note he scribbled a note to me in pencil I have it still it ran dear Ivan Andreevich I looked for a letter from my wife to you in doing so I was I suppose contemptible but no matter at least you see me as I am I clasp your hand in Markovich they went away together end of chapter two part two chapter two of The Secret City this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Richard Auti The Secret City by Hugh Walpole part two chapter two I was greatly surprised to receive a few days later an invitation from Baron Wilderling he asked me to go with him on one of the first evenings in March to a performance of LeMontov's masquerade at the Alexandra Theatre I say LeMontov but heaven knows that that great Russian poet was not supposed to be going to have much to say in the affair this performance had been in preparation for at least 10 years and when such delights as Gordon Craig's setting of hamlet or Bunwa's dresses for La Locandiera were discussed the wise one said all very well just wait until you see masquerade these manifestations of the artistic spirit had not been very numerous of late in Petrograd at the beginning of the war there had been many cabarets the cow, the calf, the dog, the striped cat and these had been underground sellers lighted by Chinese lanterns and the halls decorated with futurist paintings by Yakoliev or some other still more advanced spirit it seemed strange to me as I dressed that evening I do not know how long it was since I put on a dinner jacket with the exception of that one other visit to Baron Wilderling this seemed to be my one link with the old world and it was curious to feel its fascination its air of comforts and order and cleanliness its courtesy and discipline I think I'll leave these rooms I thought as I looked about me and take a decent flat somewhere it is a strange fact behind which there lies I believe some odd sort of moral significance that I cannot now recall the events of that evening in any kind of clear detail I remember that it was bitterly cold with the sky that was flooded with stars the snow had a queer metallic sheen upon it as though it were coloured ice and I can see now the Nevsky like a slab of some fiercely painted metal rising out of the very smack of our horses hooves as my sleigh sped along as though silkworm-like I spun it out of the entrails of the sledge it was all light and fire and colour that night with towers of gold and frosted green and even the black crowds that thronged the Nevsky pavements shot with colour somewhere in one of Shorthouse's stories in the little schoolmaster Mark I think he gives a curious impression of a whirling fantastic crowd of revelers who evoke by their movements some evil pattern in the air around them and the boy who is standing in their midst sees this dark twisted sinister picture forming against the gorgeous walls and the coloured figures until it blots out the whole scene and plunges him into darkness I will not pretend that on this evening I discerned anything sinister or ominous in the gay scene that the Alexander theatre offered me but I was nevertheless weighed down by some quite unaccountable depression that would not let me alone for this I can see now that Lawrence was very largely responsible when I met him and the Wilderlings in the foyer of the theatre I saw at once that he was greatly changed the clear open expression of his eyes was gone his mind was far away from his company and it was as though I could see into his brain and watch the repetition of the old argument occurring again and again and again with always the same questions and answers the same approaches the same defiances the same obstinacies he was caught by what was perhaps the first crisis of his life he had never been a man for much contact with his fellow beings he had been aloof and reserved generous in his judgment of others severe and narrow in his judgment of himself above all he had been proud of his strength now he was threatened by something stronger than himself he could have managed it so long as he was aware only of his love for Vera now when since Nina's party he knew that also Vera loved him he had to meet the tussle of his life that at any rate is the kind of figure that I give to his mood that evening he has told me much of what happened to him afterwards but nothing of that particular night except once do you remember that masquerade evening I was in hell that night which for Lawrence was expressive enough both the Baron and his wife were in great spirits the Baron was more than ever the evocation of the genius of elegance and order he seemed carved out of some coloured ivory behind whose white perfection burned a shining resolute flame his clothes were so perfect that they would have expressed the whole of him even though his body had not been there he was happy his eyes danced appreciatively he waved his white gloves at the scene as though blessing it of course Mr. Dilbert he said to me this is nothing compared with what we could do before the war nevertheless here you see for a moment a fragment of the old Petersburg Petersburg as it shall be please God again one day I do not in the least remember who was present that evening but it was I believe a very distinguished company the lights blazed the jewels flashed and the chatter was tremendous the horseshoe shaped seats behind the stalls clustered in knots and bunches of colour under the great glitter of electricity about the royal box artists Somov and Benoit and Dobidzinski novelists like Sol Ogub and Miakowsky dancers like Karsevina actors from all over Petrograd they were there I expect to add criticism and argument to the adulation of friends and of the carelessly observant rich Jews and merchants who had come simply to display their jewellery Petrograd like every other city in the world is artistic only by the persistence of its minority I'm sure that there were princesses and grand dukes and grand duchesses for anyone who needed them and it was only in the gallery where the students and their girlfriends were gathered that the name of LeMontov was mentioned the name of the evening was Meyerhold the gentleman responsible for the production at last the event that had been brewing ceaselessly for the last 10 years ever since the last revolution in fact was to reach creation the moment of Monsieur Meyerhold's life had arrived the moment had we known it of many other lives also but we did not know it we buzzed and we hummed we gasped and we gaped we yawned and we applauded and the rustle of gold tissue the scent of gold leaf the thick sticky substance of gold paint filled the air flooded the arena washed past us into the street outside meanwhile Monsieur Meyerhold white perspiring in his shirt sleeves with his collar loosened and his hair damp is in labor behind the gold tissue to produce the child of his life and behold the child is produced and such a child it was not I'm sure so fantastic an affair in reality as in my remembrance of it I have since then read Lemontov's play and I must confess that it does not seem in cold truth to be one of his finest works it is long and old-fashioned melodramatic and clumsy but then it was not on this occasion Lemontov's play that was the thing but it was a masquerade and that in a sense far from the author's intention as I watched I remember that I forgot the bad acting the hero was quite atrocious forgot the lapse of taste in the color and arrangement of the play forgot the artifices and elaborate originalities and false sincerities there were I have no doubt many things in it all that were bad and meretricious I was dreaming I saw against my will and outside my own agency mingled with the gold screens the purple curtains the fantasies and extravagances of the costumes the sudden flashes of unexpected color through light or dress or bagcloth pictures from those Galician days that had been until Semyonov's return as I fancied forgotten a crowd of revelers ran down the stage and a shimmering cloud of gold shot with red and purple was flung from one end of the hall to the other and behind it through it between it I saw the chill light of the early morning and Nikitin and I sitting on the bench outside the stinking butt that we had used as an operating theater watching the first rays of the sun warm the cold mountain's rim I could hear voices and the murmurs of the sleeping men and the groans of the wounded the scene closed there was space and light and a gorgeous figure stiff with the splendor of his robes talked in a dark garden with his lady their voices murmured a loot was played someone sang and through the thread of it all I saw that moment when packed together on our cart we hung for an instant on the top of the hill and looked back to a country that had suddenly crackled into flame there was that terrific crash as of the smashing of a world of China the fierce crackle of the machine guns and then the boom of the cannon from under our very feet the garden was filled with revelers laughing dancing singing the air was filled again with the air of gold paint the tenor's voice rose higher and higher the gold screens closed the act was ended it was as though I had received in some dim bewildered fashion a warning when the lights went up there were some moments before I realized that the Baron was speaking to me that the babble of chatter like a sudden rainstorm on a glass roof had burst on every side of us and that a huge duos all bareback and sham pearls was trying to pass me on her way to the corridor the Baron talked away very amusing don't you think after Reinhardt of course although they say now that Reinhardt got all his ideas from your man Craig I'm sure I don't know whether that's so I hope you're more reassured tonight Mr. Derwood you are full of alarms the other evening look around you and you'll see the true Russia I can't believe this to be the true Russia I said Petrograd is not the true Russia I don't believe there is a true Russia well there you are he continued eagerly no true Russia quite so very observant but we have to pretend there is and that's what you've fallen as I was forgetting the Russian is an individualist give him freedom until lose all sense of his companions he will pursue his own idea myself and my party are here to prevent him from pursuing his own idea for the good of himself and his country he may be discontented he may grumble but he doesn't realize his luck give him freedom and in six months you'll see Russia back in the Middle Ages and another six months I asked least stone age and then ah he said smiling you ask me too much Mr. Derwood we are speaking of our own generation the curtain was up again and I was back in my other world I cannot tell you anything of the rest of the play I remember nothing only I know that I was actually living over again those awful days in the forest the heat the flies the smells the glass is sheen of the trees the perpetual rumble of the guns the desolate wine of the shells and then Marie's death trenchards sorrow trenchards death that last view of Semyonov and I felt that I was being made to remember it all for a purpose as though my old friend rich now with his wiser knowledge was whispering to me all life is bound up you cannot leave anything behind you the past the present the future are one you had pushed us away from you but we are with you always forever I am your friend forever and Marie is your friend and now once more you have to take your part in a battle and we have come to you to share it with you do not be confused by history or public events or class struggle or any big names it is the individual and the soul of the individual alone that matters I and Marie and Vera and Nina and Markovich our love for you your love for us our courage our self-sacrifice our weakness our defeat our progress these are the things for which life exists it exists as a training ground for the immortal soul with a sweep of color the stage broke into a mist of movement masked and hooded figures in purple and gold and blue and red danced madly off into the forest of stinking sodden leaves and trees as thin as tissue paper burnt by the sun oh I oh I oh I came from the wounded and the dancers answered tra la la la tra la la la the golden screens were drawn forward the lights were up again and the whole theater was stirring like a colored paper ant heap outside in the foyer I found Laurence at my elbow go and see her he whispered to me as soon as possible tell her tell her no tell her nothing but see that she's all right and let me know see her tomorrow early I could say nothing to him for the Baron had joined us good night good night a most delightful evening most amusing no thank you I shall walk come and see us said the Baroness smiling very soon I answered I little knew that I should never see either of them again end of chapter two part two chapter three of The Secret City this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Richard Orte The Secret City by Hugh Walpole part two chapter three I woke that night with a sudden panic that I must instantly see Vera I even in the way that one does when one is only half awake struggled out of bed and felt for my clothes then I remembered and climbed back again but sleep would not return to me the self-criticism and self-distrust that were always attacking me and paralyzing my action sprang upon me now and gripped me what was I to do how was I to act I saw Vera and Nina and Lawrence and behind them smiling at me Semyonov they were asking for my help but they were in some strange intangible way most desperately remote when I read now in our papers shrill criticisms of our officials our cabinet our generals our propagandists our merchants for their failure to deal adequately with Russia I say deal adequately first you must catch your bird and no western snare has ever caught the Russian bird of paradise and I dare prophesy that no western snare ever will had I not broken my heart in the pursuit and was I not as far as ever from attainment the secret of the mystery of life is the isolation that separates every man from his fellow the secret of dissatisfaction too and the only purpose in life is to realize that isolation and to love one's fellow man because of it and to show one's own courage like a flag to which the other travelers may waive their answer but we westerners have at least the waiting comfort of our discipline our materialism of our indifference to ideas the Russian I believe lives in a world of loneliness peopled only by ideas his impulses towards self-confession towards brotherhood towards vice towards cynicism towards his belief in God and his scorn of him come out of this world and beyond it he sees his fellow man as trees walking and the mountain of God as a distant peak placed there only to emphasize his irony I had wanted to be friends with Nina and Vera I had even longed for it and now at the crisis when I must rise and act they were so far away from me that I could only see them like colored ghosts vanishing into mist I would go at once and see Vera and there do what I could Lawrence must return to England then all would be well Markovitch must be persuaded Nina must be told I slept and tumbled into a nightmare of a pursuit down endless streets of flying figures next day I went to Vera I found her to my joy alone I realized at once that our talk would be difficult she was grave and severe sitting back in her chair her head up not looking at me at all but beyond through the window to the tops of the trees feathery with snow against the sky of eggshell blue I'm always beaten by a hostile atmosphere today I was at my worst and soon we were talking like a couple of the weirdest strangers she asked me whether I had heard that there were very serious disturbances on the other side of the river I was on the Nevsky early this afternoon I said and I saw about 20 Cossacks go galloping down towards the Neva I asked somebody and was told that some women had broken into the baker's shops on Vasily Ostrov it will end as they always end said Vera some arrests and a few people beaten and a policeman will get a medal there was a long pause I went to masquerade the other night I said I hear it's very good pretentious and rather vulgar but amusing all the same everyone's talking about it and trying to get seats yes my old must be pleased they discuss it much more than they do the war or even politics everyone's tired of the war I said nothing she continued so I suppose we shall just go on for years and years and then the Empress herself would be tired one day and it will suddenly stop she showed a flash of interest turning to me and looking at me for the first time since I had come in Ivan Andreevich what do you stay in Russia for why don't you go back to England I was taken by surprise I stammered why do I stay why because because I like it you can't like it there's nothing to like in Russia there's everything I answered and I have friends here I added but you didn't answer that and continue to sit staring out at the trees we talked a little more about nothing at all and then there was another long pause at last I could endure it no longer I jumped to my feet Vera Mikhailovna I cried what have I done done she asked me with a look of self-conscious surprise what do you mean you know what I mean well enough I answered I tried to speak firmly but my voice trembled a little you told me I was your friend when I was ill the other day you came to me and said that you needed help and that you wanted me to help you I said that I would I paused well she said in a hard unrelenting voice well I hesitated and stammered cursing myself for my miserable cowardice you are in trouble now Vera great trouble I came here because I am ready to do anything for you anything and you treat me like a stranger almost like an enemy I saw her lip tremble only for an instant she said nothing if you've got anything against me since you saw me last I went on tell me and I'll go away but I had to see you and also Lawrence at the mention of his name her whole body quivered but again only for an instant Lawrence asked me to come and see you she looked up at me then gravely and coldly and without the sign of any emotion either in her face or voice thank you Ivan Ivindarevich but I want no help I am in no trouble it was very kind of Mr. Lawrence but really then I could endure it no longer I broke out Vera what's the matter you know all this isn't true I don't know what idea you have now in your head but you must let me speak to you I've got to tell you this that Lawrence must go back to England and as soon as possible and I will see that he does that did its work in an instant she was upon me like a wild beast springing from her chair standing close to me her head flung back her eyes furious she wouldn't dare she cried it's none of your business Ivan Ivindarevich you say you're my friend you're not you're my enemy my enemy I don't care for him not in the very least he has nothing to me nothing to me at all but he mustn't go back to England it will ruin his career you will ruin him for life Ivan Ivindarevich what business is it of yours you imagine because of what you fancied you saw at Nina's party there was nothing at Nina's party nothing I love my husband Ivan Ivindarevich and you are my enemy if you say anything else and you pretend to be his friend but you are his enemy if you try to have him sent back to England he must not go for the matter of that I will never see him again never if that is what you want see I promise you never never she suddenly broke down she Vera Mikhailovna the proudest woman I'd ever known turning from me her head in her hands sobbing her shoulders bent I was most deeply moved I could say nothing at first then when the sound of her sobbing became unbearable to me I murmured Vera please I have no power I can't make him go I will only do what you wish Vera please please then with her back still turned to me I heard her say please go I didn't mean I didn't but go now I'll come back later I waited a minute and then miserable terrified of the future I went end of chapter three