"Nachman, there is another thing. Here is an old man,--a friend of
mine,--he is very sick. His days are numbered, and I feel very sorry
for him. If I go away all will be lost for this old chap; he has
nobody in this world. Could you use your power and place him in a
hospital? I will give you money, of course,--I have some."
Nachman sighed: "This is so out of time! Nowadays love and charity are
much more dangerous than murders and thefts."
Then after a pause, he continued;
"Very well, friend, I will take care of your man. Hand me the money."
Then he gave me a letter to his friends in Ekaterinburg (it was ready
in his pocket) and we parted.
I am free, happy, independent, with a good standing amongst the
present Russians. And if only _she_ could be near me ... but there is
no perfect happiness on this strangest of planets of ours.
53
(_pages missing_)
... heavy trucks, and other military paraphernalia. Some of the men on
them surely are not Russians, Letts, or Germans, or ...
(_nine lines scratched out_)
... I don't know whether it was Nachman's talk or the truth.
Anyhow I am going away,--again alone,--alone forever. Damn life!
I cannot look backwards--I feel sorry for my past; the present--is
sufficiently bad not to speak of it; the future--is just as dark--as
this night. Not a star, not a single star.
The old man was taken to the People's Hospital this afternoon. He
thanked me.
54
... starting rumors of the killing of the whole Family, and always
emphasizing that this tragedy--was the supreme penalty brought to the
altar by the Emperor.
Nachman, and others, who--it seems to me, know what they are talking
about, foresee many chances; the best of them, is of course the fact,
that some ...
(_few lines scratched out_)
... are in this enterprise, and therefore it might be crowned with
success. I really do not know what to think. Only one point is clear:
I cannot believe that our sufferings, the sufferings of the _whole
country_, are unknown beyond our frontiers. They must be known; the
tears shed cannot during so long a time fall on stones,--even stones
get wet. If they are not known,--these sufferings,--if our hands
stretched for help are not seen, if we are condemned just for the only
fact that we are Russians,--and if ...
(_a page missing_)
55
... knocked at the door. I hardly had time to say "enter," when
something enveloped in a thick brown overcoat rolled in, jumped at
me and in a second covered all of my face with hot kisses. I answered
them very attentively.
Then I noticed that the amiable creature was Lucie.
"No, you don't hate me! No, you don't hate me! I know it! I knew
it!..."
"Lucie," I said, "before we proceed, please let me put some of these
papers in my pockets."
"Alex! Don't remind me of that! How _did_ you dare to write such
stories about me? You can't blame me, can you?"
"Perhaps I don't--for some pages you destroyed. How about the chart,
and about the?..."
She covered my mouth with her hands. "If we recollect everything it
will be endless. And besides I don't think I took anything from you.
Let's forget! I'll forgive you, if you promise me not to write nasty
stories about your Lucie."