wood flew onto the Mansion's
roof, where they landed and rolled down with a rattling noise, scaring
the inhabitants. A frightened face looked out of the window--and hid
immediately.

"The Hooligans!" said Botkin. "Every God's day the same, every God's
day!"

With laughter and whistles the crowd went down the Great Liberty
Street. All started suddenly and just as quickly ended; the street
became calm again.

Botkin turned to me and continued:

"Perhaps I was too hasty about this 'no answer.' I should've said it
otherwise. I think it is of _no use_ to attempt to do anything, that's
the idea. If any plan will be successful,--it will not be this," he
showed the letter, "though it is appreciated, trust me when I say it!
We are confronted with other interests, we happen to be in somebody's
game." He wanted to add something,--but stopped. "Perhaps our misery
was seen abroad through this dead screen of general selfishness!
Believe me, sir, any attempt is hopeless. Our effort only spoils, or
might spoil, more cleverly prearranged plans. Now--if you wish me to
be frank, I personally don't believe in what I say to you. I think the
song is sung...."

"Very well, if I happen to communicate, I'll say so."

An old lady passed the room and searchingly gazed at me. Then a man,
tall and thin came in, got a drink of water and left. We both kept
silent. An atmosphere of distrust reigned for a while. I got up.

"Wait a while," Botkin said, "I still would like to know whom I have
the pleasure of speaking to?"

"Syvorotka is my name. I'll stay here in the hotel for a while."

He looked at me without any confidence.

"As you please," he said, "I cannot force you to take the mask off.
Good-by."

We shook hands,--and I left the Kornilov's House.

Here I am in the Hotel. Dirty hole--that's it. No linen. A mattress
covered with spots. Rotten humor.

Botkin fears that the efforts might compromise those who are
around the Mansion. He fears even those who are in exile. He fears
everything. But--not for himself. I think he is an honest man.

There is nothing to do here--with these scared people. Suspicious,
having lost faith in each other, and jealous! I must try to approach
them against their will,--perhaps I can do something better than in
Tumen.

It is evident that the tragedy develops here. I would not be surprised
to know that Lucie is somewhere around.

41

With my pass from the Tumen soviet and a very sure feeli