ad gone to her
boudoir with his confession."

Razumov sat up in anguish. Was he to remain a political suspect all his
days? Was he to go through life as a man not wholly to be trusted--with
a bad secret police note tacked on to his record? What sort of future
could he look forward to?

"I am now a suspect," he thought again; but the habit of reflection and
that desire of safety, of an ordered life, which was so strong in him
came to his assistance as the night wore on. His quiet, steady, and
laborious existence would vouch at length for his loyalty. There were
many permitted ways to serve one's country. There was an activity that
made for progress without being revolutionary. The field of influence
was great and infinitely varied--once one had conquered a name.

His thought like a circling bird reverted after four-and-twenty hours to
the silver medal, and as it were poised itself there.

When the day broke he had not slept, not for a moment, but he got up
not very tired and quite sufficiently self-possessed for all practical
purposes.

He went out and attended three lectures in the morning. But the work in
the library was a mere dumb show of research. He sat with many volumes
open before him trying to make notes and extracts. His new tranquillity
was like a flimsy garment, and seemed to float at the mercy of a casual
word. Betrayal! Why! the fellow had done all that was necessary to
betray himself. Precious little had been needed to deceive him.

"I have said no word to him that was not strictly true. Not one word,"
Razumov argued with himself.

Once engaged on this line of thought there could be no question of doing
useful work. The same ideas went on passing through his mind, and he
pronounced mentally the same words over and over again. He shut up all
the books and rammed all his papers into his pocket with convulsive
movements, raging inwardly against Haldin.

As he was leaving the library a long bony student in a threadbare
overcoat joined him, stepping moodily by his side. Razumov answered his
mumbled greeting without looking at him at all.

"What does he want with me?" he thought with a strange dread of the
unexpected which he tried to shake off lest it should fasten itself
upon his life for good and all. And the other, muttering cautiously with
downcast eyes, supposed that his comrade had seen the news of de P---'s
executioner--that was the expression he used--having been arrested the
night before las