The White Terror and The Red: A Novel of Revolutionary Russia

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  A POSTPONED WEDDING.

  In June of that year, shortly before Makar escaped from prison, theunhappy Empress of Russia died after a long illness that was generallyascribed to her many years of jealousy and anguish. The Czar signifiedhis intention to enter into morganatic wedlock with Princess Dolgorukiat once. His sons and brothers remonstrated with him, pleading for apostponement of the marriage until the end of a year's mourning; but hewas passionately devoted to the princess, with whom he had been on termsof intimacy for the past few years; he was determined to have theserelations legitimatised, and, in view of the unrelenting campaign of theTerrorists, he felt that he could not do so too soon. Several members ofthe imperial family then went on a foreign tour, and the wedding wasquietly solemnised on July 31 in Livadia, Crimea, where the Czar and hisbride remained for a long honeymoon.

  Pavel's and Clara's wedding was to take place in the early part ofOctober. The relations of the sexes among the Nihilists were based uponthe highest ideals of purity, and the marriage bond was sacred in thebest sense of the word, but they were not given to celebrating theirweddings. When a couple became man and wife the fact was recognised astacitly as it was made known, the adoption by the bride of her husband'sname being out of the question in a world in which passports and nameswere apt to be changed every day. Still, there were exceptions, andPavel insisted upon being one of these. In his overflowing bliss heoften cast the spartanism of the movement to the winds, and now he wasbent upon indulging himself in the "romanticism" of having his weddingproclaimed at a gathering of his most intimate friends. This was to bedone at the close of an important revolutionary meeting, at the samelodgings where we once saw Pavel, Zachar and My Lord at a gathering ofmilitary officers. A high government official who occupied the firstfloor of the same building was giving an elaborate reception which keptthe house porters busy and the street in front crowded with carriagesand idlers; so the central organisation of the Party of the Will of thePeople took advantage of the occasion and held one of its generalmeetings under cover of the excitement. The assemblage, which was madeup of about sixty or seventy persons of both sexes, comprised nearlyevery member of the Executive Committee in town, and some candidates foradmission to the Executive who were allowed to participate in itsdeliberations without a vote. Most of the revolutionists present hadtaken part in attempts on the life of the Czar, as also in some of therecent assassinations. One man, a southerner, was the hero of the mostsensational rescue during the past few years, having snatched from theKieff prison, in which he had contrived to obtain the position of headkeeper, three leaders of an extensive revolutionary plot. This man, theJanitor and Purring Cat now constituted the Governing Board (asub-committee clothed with dictatorial powers) of the Terrorists'Executive.

  The police were hunting for the people here gathered throughout theempire. Had the present meeting been discovered by spies the wholemovement would have been seriously crippled for a considerable time.Indeed, the complex conspiracies of the Will of the People were anelement of fatal weakness as well as a manifestation of fascinatingstrength. The Terror absorbed the best resources of the party,necessitating highly centralised organisation, with the threads of ascattered national propaganda in the hands of a few "illegals" who wereliable to be seized at any moment.

  The street was full of police, but these had all they could do to salutethe distinguished guests of the first floor and to take care of thecarriages and the crowd of curiosity seekers.

  Partly through Pavel's influence and partly because she was an "illegal"and had produced a very favourable impression, Clara had made theacquaintance of many of the revolutionary leaders and been admitted as aprobationary member of the Executive Committee. The present gatheringwas the first general meeting of the central body she had attended.

  "So this is the Executive Committee!" she was saying to herself. This,then, was the mysterious force that people were talking about in timidwhispers; that the Czar dreaded; that was going to make everybody freeand good and happy. This was it, and she was attending its meeting. Shecould scarcely believe her senses that she actually was there. She knewmany of the members, but she had never seen several of them together.The present meeting almost benumbed her with a feeling of reverence,awe, and gratitude. Even those she had met often since her arrival inSt. Petersburg seemed different beings now, as though spiritualised intothat mysterious force that seemed mightier than the Czar and holier thandivinity. An overpowering state of exaltation, of something akin to theecstasy of a woman upon taking the veil, came over her. Pavel was dearerthan ever to her, but in her present mood their love impressed her as ajarring note. Self-sacrifice, not personal happiness, was what appealedto her, and by degrees she keyed herself up to a frame of mind in whichher prospective married life seemed a gross profanation of the sanctuaryto which she had been admitted.

  "Let us postpone it, Pasha dear," she whispered to him, with a thrillingsense of sacrificing her happiness to the cause.

  "Why?" he demanded in perplexity.

  They went into the adjoining room. "What is the trouble? What's thetrouble?" he demanded, light-heartedly.

  "No trouble at all, dearest," she answered affectionately. "You aredearer than ever to me, but pray let us postpone it."

  "But there must be some reason for it," he said with irritation.

  "Don't be vexed, Pashenka. There is really no special reason. I simplydon't feel like being married--yet. I want to give my life to themovement, Pasha. I am enjoying too much happiness as it is." She utteredit in grave, measured, matter-of-fact accents, but her hazel eyesreflected the uplifted state of her soul.

  "Oh!" he exclaimed with a mixed sense of relief and adoration. "Ifthat's what you mean, all I can say is that I am not worthy of you,Clara; but of course, the question of giving our lives to the cause hasnothing to do with the question of our belonging to each other. Or,rather, it's one and the same thing."

  She made no reply. The very discussion of the subject jarred on her.

  "You are in a peculiar mood now, and you are an angel, anyhow, butto-morrow you'll see the matter in a different light."

  "At any rate, let us postpone it, Pashenka." And she led the way back tothe meeting room.

  Many of the company knew of the expected announcement, and when theyheard that it was not to take place they felt sorely disappointed. Whenthe business of the meeting had been disposed of, a Terrorist namedSablin waggishly drank the health of Mlle. Yavner and the socialrevolution, to the accompaniment of the rapturous band of the firstfloor, and then he began to improvise burlesque verses on her as anewcomer, with allusions to her power over Pavel. This revolutionist wasone of the "twin poets" of the party, his muse, which had a weakness forsatire, being the gayer of the two. The "grave bard," whose name wasMorosoff, was in Switzerland now. The two were great chums. As always,Sablin was the great convivial spirit of the company. When he was notversifying, he was making jokes, telling anecdotes or trying to speakLittle-Russian to Purring Cat, who, being from Little Russia, answeredhis questions with smiling passivity. Some of his rhymes related toPurring Cat's interminable side-whiskers, Zachar's habit of throwing outhis chest as he walked, the reticence of the tall man with the Tartarianface, and, above all, the Janitor's explosions of wrath when one "wasnot continually leering around for spies."

  The Janitor cursed him good-humouredly, without stuttering, and resumedhis discussion with a man who looked like the conventional image ofChrist, and with Urie, the tall blond man with typical Great-Russianfeatures who had introduced Pavel to the Nihilist world and whom hestill called "Godfather." The gay poet then took to versifying on the"three blond beards" of this trio.

  Zachar made the most noise, dancing cossack hops till the floor shookunder his feet, singing at the top of his lungs, filling the large roomwith deafening guffaws. Baska, the light complexioned "housewife" of thedynamite shop, who looked like a peasant woman, was the greatest gigglerof all the women present. Grisha, her passport husban
d at that shop, andher real husband--a thin man with Teutonic features, known among therevolutionists as "the German"--were also there.

  Sophia, the daughter of the former governor of St. Petersburg, sat byClara's side, smiling her hearty good wishes upon her. She looked like ahappy little girl, Sophia, her prominent cheeks aglow, and her clearblue self-possessed eyes full of affection and sweet-spiritedpenetration. She was engaged to Zachar, and Pavel's courtship hadenlisted her tender interest. There were several other women at thegathering, two or three of them decidedly good-looking.

  There was an unpublished poem, "Virgin Soil," by the "gay bard," whichClara had heard him recite and which portrayed, among other things, aNihilist woman becoming a mother in her isolated cell. Her child iswrested from her arms to perish, and she goes insane. The episode, whichis part of a bitter satire on a certain official, is based on fact. AsClara now thought of it and beheld the demented woman nursing a rag, ashudder passed through her frame.

  "Cheer up, Clara! Cheer up!" Zachar thundered. "We don't want any longfaces to-night."

  Clara smiled, a sorry smile, and Zachar went on hopping and laughing.But when Sophia stroked her hand, smilingly, Clara buried her face inher bosom and gave way to a quick sob.

  "What does it mean?" Pavel asked.

  "Nothing," Clara answered, gleaming through her tears.

  There were four or five Jews in the assemblage, but Makar was not amongthem. His cherished dream had been realised at last. He was working in asecret printing office. Establishments of this sort were guarded withspecial solicitude, so in view of his absent-mindedness, Makar neverleft the place for fear of bringing back some spy. The otherrevolutionists who worked in the same printing shop and who wereregistered at the police station as residents of the house had each hisor her day off. Makar alone was not registered. The porters of the househad never seen him, and the composing room was his prison.

  The only other Jewess in the room was a dark insignificant looking womannamed Hessia Helfman. She was touchingly bashful, so that at one timeClara had offered to befriend her. She had soon discovered, however,that the dark little Jewess was in charge of a most important conspiracystation. On closer acquaintance Hessia had proved to be quite talkativeand of an extremely affectionate nature. Clara's attachment to her hadbecome greater still when she had learned that Purring Cat was herhusband. The great thing was that he was a Gentile and a nobleman,although not a prince. Clara had told herself that the equality of Jewand Gentile and their intermarriage among socialists was a matter ofcourse and that the circumstance attracted no special attention on herpart, but she knew that it did.

  As she now looked at Hessia and her husband, she said to herself, with agreat sense of relief: "She is as good as I, anyhow. If she could marrythe man she loves I can."

  But her joy in this absolution from her self-imposed injunction soonfaded away. To sacrifice her happiness seemed to her the highesthappiness this evening. She would surpass Hessia. If there was a worldin which platonic relations were called for theirs was that world. Theimage of a demented woman fondling a rag in her prison cell came back toher.