... I have no place to go. So I am
here. But she? I am sure she could be somewhere else, in better
surroundings, amongst people better than I am. And during these six
weeks--we were not friends. We were only plotters, joined under one
roof, and secretly hostile to each other--"I am ashamed," I said to
her, "honestly I am. You must think that I have never cared to know
what is in your mind. We have always been distant and mysterious,
always absorbed in our own affairs. Why should I trouble you with my
questions? Especially, if I knew beforehand that you wouldn't answer.
Yes, we have been together six weeks--more than that--we live under
the same roof, eat the same food, have our life as close as two human
beings can,--and yet--here we are,--apart from each other. You are a
woman, it's up to you to break this distance and build a bridge over
it."
"Well," she said, putting her small hand on mine, "you approach
the question evidently from another angle. I am not speaking of our
business, which may, and which may not, be the same. Why am I so sad
and so blue? It is that I feel I am all alone here. I can tell you and
I think that you have already understood it, that I came to Tumen
with orders to see a certain Syvorotka. I had to be with him, use his
house, use his protection, use his connections. I did not know who
this Syvorotka was.
A cave man? An ex-soldier? A sick man? A fat butcher? A sentimental,
but dirty druggist? Of all the men in the world,--and while coming
here I imagined all possible types,--that I should have met you, Alex!
You have always meant so much to me.
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