re
are three lines of illegible writing)... so I will think again and
again of that last time when we sat together and all the good things
that she said. What greatness of soul, what goodness, what splendour!
And perhaps after all I am a fortunate man to be allowed to be faithful
to so fine a grandeur! Many men have poor ambitions, and God bestows
His gifts with strange blindness, I often think. But I am tired, and you
too will be tired. Perhaps you have not got so far. I must thank you for
your friendship to me. I am very grateful for it. And you, if afterwards
you ever think of me, think that I always wished to... no, why should
you think of me at all? But think of Russia! That is why I write this.
You love Russia, and I believe that you will continue to love Russia
whatever she will do. Never forget that it is because she cares so
passionately for the good of the world that she makes so many mistakes.
She sees farther than other countries, and she cares more. But she is
also more ignorant. She has never been allowed to learn anything or to
try to do anything for herself.

You are all too impatient, too strongly aware of your own conditions,
too ignorant of hers! Of course there are wicked men here and many idle
men, but every country has such. You must not judge her by that nor by
all the talk you hear. We talk like blind men on a dark road.... Do you
believe that there are no patriots here? Ah! how bitterly I have been
disappointed during these last weeks! It has broken my heart... but do
not let your heart be broken. You can wait. You are young. Believe in
Russian patriotism, believe in Russian future, believe in Russian
soul.... Try to be patient and understand that she is blindfolded,
ignorant, stumbling... but the glory will come; I can see it shining
far away!... It is not for me, but for you--and for Vera... for Vera...
Vera....

Here the letter ended; only scrawled very roughly across the paper the
letters N.M....

XIV

As soon as I had finished reading the letter I went to the telephone and
rang up the Markovitches' flat. Bohun spoke to me. I asked him whether
Nicholas was there, he said, "Yes, fast asleep in the arm-chair," Was
Semyonov there? "No, he was dining out that night." I asked him to
remind Vera that I was expecting to take her to the meeting next day,
and rang off. There was nothing more to be done just then. Two minutes
later there was a knock on my door and Vera came in.

"Why!" I cr