The Created Legend Fyodor Sologub (chromebook ebook reader txt) 📖

to be silent for so long, and he made haste to say, not without embarrassment:

“Please don’t think about it. I quite well understand that there are things which.⁠ ⁠… But if you find it difficult or unpleasant to speak about it, then please.⁠ ⁠…”

Trirodov said a few more incoherent, confused words of apology to Piotr and thanked him. He breathed a sigh of relief when Stchemilov was announced.

Piotr let loose his irritation at the newcomer with the ironic question:

“Again free? For how long?”

“I’ve skipped,” answered Stchemilov calmly. “I’m leading an illegal life now.”

Piotr soon left.

“Today?” asked Stchemilov. “Here?”

“Yes, we’ll meet here today,” replied Trirodov.

“He hasn’t left yet, and there are several matters and reports to attend to. It is necessary to arrange a meeting and to let various people know about it.”

“You have a convenient house here,” said Stchemilov. “May I help myself?” he added, pointing at the box of cigars as he lounged back comfortably on the large sofa. “Most convenient,” he repeated, as he lit his cigar. “They don’t suspect us as yet, but if they should pay you a visit, there are so many exits and entrances here and out-of-the-way nooks.⁠ ⁠… Very convenient indeed. It is easy to hide things here⁠—no comparison at all with my little trunk.”

XX

The town was in a state of unrest: strikes were in the air, patriotic demonstrations were held. Its outer environs were visited by suspicious-looking characters; these distributed proclamations, mostly of an illiterate nature, in the villages. The proclamations threatened incendiarism if the peasants did not revolt. The incendiaries were to be “students,” discharged from the factories on account of the strikes. The peasants believed the announcement. In some of the villages watchmen were engaged to catch the incendiaries at night.

Ostrov began to play a noticeable role in town. He quickly squandered the money he received from Trirodov in drink and in other ways. He did not dare as yet to visit Trirodov again, but appeared to be in an expectant mood, and remained in town.

It was here that Ostrov met his old friend Yakov Poltinin.

Yakov Poltinin and two other members of the Black Hundred were sent from the capital at the request of Kerbakh and Zherbenev. The apparent purpose of this request was to establish a connection between the local section of the All-Russian Black Hundred union⁠—organized by Kerbakh, Zherbenev, and Konopatskaya, the wife of a general⁠—with the central office of the organization. The actual purpose, however, as understood by all these respected folk, though they ventured to do little more than hint of it to one another, was to establish⁠—with the help of the trio⁠—a patriotic movement; in short, to strike a blow at the intelligentsia.

Yakov Poltinin took Ostrov with him to visit the families of the patriots. A company of suspicious characters was in town⁠—ready to do anything they were bidden. Yakov Poltinin led Ostrov also among this company.

In the course of the company’s friendly carouse at Poltinin’s apartments in a dirty little house on the outskirts of the town, the idea of stealing the sacred icon came into someone’s mind. Poltinin said:

“There’s no end of precious stones on it of all sorts⁠—diamonds, sapphires, and rubies. It took hundred of years to collect them. Little Mother Russia, orthodox Russia, has done her best.”

The thief Potseluytchikov affirmed:

“It’s certainly worth not less than two million.”

“You’re putting it on rather thick,” declared Ostrov incredulously.

“Not at all,” said Poltinin with a knowing look. “Two million is putting it mildly⁠—it’s more likely worth three.”

“And how are you going to dispose of it?” asked Ostrov.

“I know how,” said Poltinin confidently. “Of course you’d get a trifle compared with its real value⁠—still we ought to get a half-million out of it.”

This was followed by blasphemous jests.

Yakov Poltinin had for some time entertained the secret ambition of accomplishing something on a grand scale, something that would cause a lot of talk. It is true the murder of the Chief of Police created a deep impression. Still, it was hardly as important as the affair he had in mind. To steal and destroy the miracle-working icon⁠—that would be something to crow about! Poltinin said:

“The Socialist Revolutionaries are certain to be blamed for it. Expropriation for party purposes⁠—why not? As for us, no one will even suspect us.”

“The priests will never get over it,” declared Molin, a former instructor, who was a drunkard and a thief⁠—a jailbird deprived of his legal rights.

The friends began preparations for the projected theft. Now one of them, now another, developed the habit of frequenting the monastery. Ostrov especially received an eager welcome there. He pleased, by his external piety, the older monks who were in authority. There were a number of convivial monks who were especially fond of Ostrov. The monks advised him to join the local union of the Black Hundred. They said that it would be pleasing to God. They engaged him in religious and patriotic conversations and invited him to drink with them.

Poltinin and Potseluychikov were also well received in the monastery.

Strange threads are woven into the relations of people at times. Although Piotr Matov met Ostrov under unfriendly circumstances, Ostrov managed to scrape up an acquaintance even with him. It reached a point when Piotr even agreed to make a journey with Ostrov to the monastery.

Glafira Pavlovna Konopatskaya, the rich widow of a general, was an energetic, power-loving woman, and enjoyed considerable influence in town. She was a most generous contributor to the various enterprises of the Black Hundred. Her house served as the meeting-place of the local branch of this All-Russian organization as well as of another secret society, which bore the elaborate name of “The Union of Active Combat with Revolution and Anarchy.”

The initiation ceremony of the union was very elaborately exulting. Especial efforts were made to attract working men. Each new member was presented with a badge, a Browning revolver, and a little money.

The local patriots used to say about Glafira Pavlovna’s house:

“Here dwells the Russian spirit, here it smells of