Lembke cringed.

"But with us it's too early, much too early," he said almost pleadingly, pointing to the tracts.

"No, it's not too early; see, you're afraid, so it's not too early."

"But, all the same, here, for example, is an invitation to destroy churches."

"And why not? You're an intelligent man and, of course, not a believer yourself, but you understand only too well that you need belief in order to brutalize the people. Truth is more honest than lying."

"I agree, I agree, I fully agree with you, but for us it's too early, too early ..." von Lembke kept wincing.

"And what sort of government official are you after that, if you yourself agree to destroy churches and march with cudgels to Petersburg, and the only difference is when to do it?"

So rudely caught up, Lembke was sorely piqued.

"It's not that, not that," he was getting carried away, his amour-propre more and more chafed. "Being a young man and, above all, unfamiliar with our goals, you are mistaken. You see, my dearest Pyotr Stepanovich, you call us officials of the government? Right. Independent officials? Right. But, may I ask, how do we act? The responsibility is on us, and as a result we serve the common cause the same as you do. We merely hold together that which you are shaking apart, and which without us would go sprawling in all directions. We're not your enemies, by no means. We say to you: go forward, progress, even shake—all that's old, that is, and has to be remade—but when need be, we will keep you within necessary limits, and save you from yourselves, for without us you will only set Russia tottering, depriving her of a decent appearance, while our task consists precisely in maintaining her decent appearance. Realize that you and we are mutually necessary to each other. In England, the Whigs and Tories are also mutually necessary to each other. So, then, we are the Tories and you are the Whigs, that's precisely how I see it."

Andrei Antonovich even waxed enthusiastic. Ever since Petersburg, he had enjoyed talking intelligently and liberally, and here, furthermore, no one was eavesdropping. Pyotr Stepanovich was silent and bore himself somehow with unusual gravity. This egged the orator on even more.

"Do you know that I, the 'master of the province,’” he went on, pacing the study, "do you know that I, owing to the multitude of my duties, am unable to fulfill even one of them, and, on the other hand, it would be just as correct to say that there is nothing for me to do here. The whole secret is that here everything depends on the views of the government. Suppose the government even establishes a republic, say, out of politics, or to restrain passions, and on the other hand, parallel with that, suppose it strengthens the power of the governors—then we governors will swallow up the republic; not just the republic, we'll swallow up whatever you like, I at least feel I am ready ... In short, if the government sends me a telegram declaring activité dévorante,^[lxxxviii]then I'll give them activité dévorante. I said here, right in their faces: 'My dear sirs, for the balancing and flourishing of all provincial institutions, one thing is necessary—an increase of the governor's power.' You see, all these institutions, whether local or legislative, ought, so to speak, to live a double life—that is, they ought to exist (I agree that this is necessary), well, and on the other hand, they ought at the same time not to exist. All depending on the government's view. If the notion should arise that these institutions suddenly seem necessary, I immediately have them available. If the necessity passes, no one will find them anywhere in my province. That is how I understand activité dévorante, and it cannot exist without an increase of the governor's power. We are talking privately. You know, I've already applied to Petersburg about the necessity for a special sentry at the door of the governor's house. I'm awaiting an answer."

"You need two," said Pyotr Stepanovich.

"Why two?" von Lembke stopped in front of him.

"I don't think one will be enough to earn you respect. You surely need two."

Andrei Antonovich made a wry face.

"You... you allow yourself God knows what, Pyotr Stepanovich. You take advantage of my kindness to make caustic remarks and play some sort of bourru bienfaisant^[lxxxix] . . ."

"Well, that's as you like," Pyotr Stepanovich muttered, "but all the same you're paving the way for us and preparing our success."

"That is, which 'us' and what success?" von Lembke stared at him in surprise, but received no answer.

Yulia Mikhailovna, after hearing a report of the conversation, was very displeased.

"But, really," von Lembke defended himself, "I cannot behave as a superior towards your favorite, especially when we're in private ... I might have let something slip... from the goodness of my heart."

"From all too much goodness. I didn't know you had a collection of tracts, kindly show it to me."

"But... but he asked to take it for a day."

"And once again you gave it!" Yulia Mikhailovna became angry. "What tactlessness!"

"I'll send someone now to take it back from him."

"He won't give it back."

"I'll insist!" von Lembke boiled over, and even jumped up from his place. "Who is he to be so feared, and who am I not to dare to do anything?"

"Sit down and calm yourself," Yulia Mikhailovna interrupted. "I will answer your first question: he came to me with excellent recommendations, he has abilities, and occasionally says extremely intelligent things. Karmazinov assured me that he has connections almost everywhere and is extremely influential with the youth of the capital. And if through him I can attract them and gather them all around me, I can divert them from ruin by showing a new path for their ambition. He is devoted to me with his whole heart and heeds me in everything."

"But while we're indulging them, they can do ... devil knows what. Of course, it's an idea..." von Lembke vaguely defended himself, "but. . . but now I hear that some tracts have appeared in the ——--- district."

"But we heard that rumor already in the summer—tracts, false banknotes, and whatnot—yet nothing has been brought in. Who told you?"

"I heard it from von Blum."

"Ah, spare me your Blum, and do not dare to mention him again!"

Yulia Mikhailovna boiled over and for about a minute was even unable to speak. Von Blum was an official from the governor's office whom she especially hated. Of that later.

"Please don't worry about Verkhovensky," she concluded the conversation. "If he had participated in any mischief, he wouldn't talk the way he does with you and with everyone here. Phrase-mongers are not dangerous, and I would even say that if something were to happen,I would be the first to learn of it through him. He is fanatically, fanatically devoted to me."

I will note, anticipating events, that had it not been for Yulia Mikhailovna's self-importance and ambition, perhaps none of the things these bad little people managed to do here would have taken place. Much of it is her responsibility!

5: Before the Fête

I

The day of the fête conceived by Yulia Mikhailovna as a subscription benefit for the governesses of our province had already been fixed and canceled several times. Constantly fluttering around her were Pyotr Stepanovich; the little clerk Lyamshin, serving as errand boy, who once upon a time used to visit Stepan Trofimovich but suddenly came into favor in the governor's house for his piano playing; Liputin, partly, whom Yulia Mikhailovna planned to make the editor of a future independent provincial newspaper; a few ladies and young girls; and finally even Karmazinov, who, though he did not flutter, nevertheless announced aloud and with a satisfied air that he was going to give everyone a pleasant surprise when the quadrille of literature began. A great many subscribers and donors turned up, all select town society; though the most non-select were also admitted, as long as they came with money. Yulia Mikhailovna observed that sometimes the mixing of ranks even ought to be allowed, "otherwise who will enlighten them?" An unofficial home committee was formed at which it was decided that the fête should be a democratic one. The extravagant subscription list tempted them to spend; they wanted to do something wonderful—which was why it kept being postponed. They still could not decide where to organize the evening ball: at the huge house of the marshal of nobility's wife, which she had offered for the day, or at Varvara Petrovna's in Skvoreshniki. Skvoreshniki would be a bit far, but many of the committee insisted that it would be "freer" there. Varvara Petrovna herself was only too anxious to have it take place there. It is hard to understand why this proud woman almost fawned on Yulia Mikhailovna. She probably liked it that the woman, in her turn, almost demeaned herself before Nikolai Vsevolodovich and paid court to him as to no one else. I will repeat once more: Pyotr Stepanovich, all the time and unceasingly, in whispers, continued to cultivate in the governor's house an idea he had set going even earlier, that Nikolai Vsevolodovich was a man who had the most mysterious connections in a most mysterious world, and that he must have come on some assignment.