se because Vera didn't love him and he adored her. But there was
more in it than that. He let himself go one night to me--the only time
he's ever talked to me really. He was drunk a bit, and he wanted to
borrow money off me. But there was more in it than that. He talked to me
about Russia. That seemed to have been his great idea when the war began
that it was going to lead to the most marvellous patriotism all through
Russia. It seemed to begin like that, and do you know, Durward, as he
talked I saw that patriotism _was_ at the bottom of everything, that you
could talk about Internationalism until you were blue in the face, and
that it only began to mean anything when you'd learnt first what
nationality was--that you couldn't really love all mankind until you'd
first learnt to love one or two people close to you. And that you
couldn't love the world as a vast democratic state until you'd learnt to
love your own little bit of ground, your own fields, your own river,
your own church tower. Markovitch had it all as plain as plain. 'Make
your own house secure and beautiful. Then it is ready to take its place
in the general scheme. We Russians always begin at the wrong end,' he
said. 'We jump all the intermediate stages. I'm as bad as the rest.' I
know you'll say I'm so easily impressed, Durward, but he was wonderful
that night--and so _right_. So that as he talked I just longed to rush
back and see that my village--Topright in Wiltshire--was safe and sound
with the highgate at the end of the village street, and the village
stores with the lollipop windows, and the green with the sheep on it,
and the ruddy stream with the small trout and the high Down beyond....
Oh well, you know what I mean--"

"I know," said I.

"I saw that the point of Markovitch was that he must have some ideal to
live up to. If he couldn't have Vera he'd have Russia, and if he
couldn't have Russia he'd have his inventions. When we first came along
a month or two ago he'd lost Russia, he was losing Vera, and he wasn't
very sure about his inventions. A bad time for the old boy, and you were
quite right to tell me to look after him. Then came the Revolution, and
he thought that everything was saved. Vera and Russia and everything.
Wasn't he wonderful that week? Like a child who has suddenly found
Paradise.... Could any Englishman ever be cheated like that by
anything? Why a fellow would be locked up for a loony if he looked as
happy as Markovitch looked t