219
'You do. That's interesting. And we're not to correspond with each
other, I suppose?'
He was silent.
'Wait a minute, I won't be long,' I said, and left the room.
The floor lady was sitting at her desk. I asked permission to use her
telephone, and while I was talking I kept an eye on the corridor to make
sure that Romashka did not leave. But he did not-it probably did not
occur to him that I had gone out to make a call.
'Nikolai Antonich? Grigoriev here.' He asked me to repeat the name,
evidently thinking that he had misheard. 'Nikolai Antonich,' I said
politely, 'excuse me for disturbing you so late. But I must see you.'
For a moment he did not answer. Then he said: 'In that case, come
along.'
'Nikolai Antonich, if you don't mind I'd like you to call at my place.
Believe me it's very important, not so much for me as for you.'
There was another pause and I could hear him breathing at the other
end.
'When? I can't come today.'
'But it must be today. Right now. Nikolai Antonich,' I raised my
voice, 'believe me this once, at least. You will come. I'm ringing off
now.'
He did not ask where I was staying, and that was proof enough, if
proof were needed, that it was he who had sent me the newspaper
containing the article 'In Defence of a Scientist'. But just then I had
other things on my mind and I dismissed the matter and went back to
Romashka.
I don't remember ever having lied and shuffled the way I did during
the twenty minutes before Nikolai Antonich arrived. I pretended that I
did not care at all what Nikolai Antonich had ever been, I asked what
the papers were about, and assured him in a voice nasal with cunning
that I could not go away without Katya. Then came a knock at the door
and I cried out: 'Come in!'
Nikolai Antonich came in and stopped in the doorway.
'Good evening, Nikolai Antonich,' I said.
I wasn't looking at Romashka but when afterwards I did I saw him
sitting on the edge of the chair, his head drawn down into his shoulders
with an anxious listening air-a real owl, and a sinister one too.
'There, Nikolai Antonich,' I went on very calmly, 'you probably know
this gentleman. He goes by the name of Romashov, your favourite pupil
and assistant, and almost next door to a kinsman, if I am not mistaken.
I've invited you here to give you the gist of our talk.'
Nikolai Antonich was still standing by the door, very erect,
surprisingly upright, coat and hat in his hand. Afterwards he dropped
the hat.
'This Romashov here,' I proceeded, 'came to me an hour and a half
ago with the following proposition. He offered me the use of certain
evidence which shows, first, that you swindled Captain Tatarinov's
expedition and, second, that you have a number of other shady dealings
to your name of which no mention is made by you in your personnel
questionnaires.'
This was when he dropped his hat.
220
'I have the impression,' I continued, 'that this is not the first time he
has been offering this merchandise for sale. I don't know, I may be
wrong.'
'Nikolai Antonich!' Romashka suddenly squealed. 'It's a lie. Don't you
believe him. He's lying.'
I waited until he had finished shouting.
'It's all the same to me now, of course,' I went on. 'It's between you
two. But you deliberately...'
I felt my cheek beginning to twitch, and I did not like it, because I had
sworn to keep cool when talking to them.
'But you deliberately arranged for this man to marry Katya. You were
trying to talk her into it, because you were afraid of him. And now he
comes here, shouting: 'We'll send him toppling.' '
As though suddenly coming awake, Nikolai Antonich took a step
forward and stared at Romashka. He stared at him hard and long, and
the tense silence was beginning to tell even on me.
'Nikolai Antonich,' Romashka began again in a stammering, piteous
voice.
Nikolai Antonich kept staring. Then he began to speak, and the sound
of his voice, the broken, quavery voice of an old man, astonished me.
'Why did you invite me here?' he said. 'I am ill, it's hard for me to
speak. You wanted me to see that he's a scoundrel. That's no news to
me. You wanted to crush me again, but you can't do more than you have
already done-and done irreparably.' He drew a deep breath. I realised
that it really was hard for him to speak.
'I leave to her conscience,' he went on just as quietly, but in a voice
hardened and bitter, 'the act she has committed in going away without
saying a word to me, believing the base slander of which I have been a
victim all my life.'
I was silent. Romashka poured out a glass of water with a shaking
hand and offered it to him.
'Nikolai Antonich,' he mumbled, 'you mustn't get excited.'
But Nikolai Antonich thrust his arm aside with a violent gesture and
the water spilled over the carpet.
'I accept no reproaches, no regrets,' he said, suddenly snatching off
his glasses and twisting them about in his fingers. 'It's her affair. Her
own fate. All I wanted for her was happiness. But my cousin's memory—
that will never yield to anybody,' he said hoarsely, and his face became
sullen, puffy, thick-lipped. 'I would gladly accept this suffering as a
punishment-even unto death-because life has long been a burden to me.
But I deny all these monstrous, shameful accusations. And not even a
thousand false witnesses would make anyone believe that I killed this
