New-York tribune., 1918-12-22


he avoid her. Their circle of friends was
the same. Whenever they should happen
to meet, he would be coldly polite.
On the third day after his return to the
capital he learned accidentally because he
did not take the trouble to make any in
quires about her, that she was no longer
there. But several times he caught him
self wishing that he knew how she was
getting along. When he learned that she
had gone, he became lonely. He yearned
for her presence under the same sky that
arched above him, in the limits of the same
city. He reproved himself, however, telling
himself that he was not yet free-that he
was a weak-willed fellow, and that if an
agent of the Ochranka should happen to
come along he would be lost again. He
bit his lips; he would slay the memory of
her within his heart.
When, a few weeks later, he met her, he
seized with trembling, but he recalled
in a moment that she was dead 70 him.
She asked him, ever so kindly and friend
ly, what had been the matter with him.
Why had he disappeared? Why had he
not replied to Der letter?
He about to answer her questions
with the first excuse that came 20 his mind.
For a moment he sought plausible ex-
planation, but Immediately there came to
him the desire once and for all to tell the
truth, to free himself from pettiness. His
face, upon which had lain soft, polite
smile, assumed hard expression, and he
spoke as calmly possible.
"One day I knocked at your door-with
much, ever so much on my heart-and you
| did not answer my knock. So l opened the
door. 1t was not very proper of me, [
admit. Not at all proper. But I opened it.
I couldn't help myself. wanted to be con-
! vinced Of something. Very low on my
! part. And when 1 opened the door 1 saw
you with Leggn ="
She uttered cry and covered her face
| He left her standing in this position and
hastened away A free man, self-liberated,
throbbing with new strength. He knew that
IN this moment he had been born anew
Late in autumn, gloomy, rainy day,
he was met at his door by an agent. A
small, dark man with beady eyes, of the
sort that make you instinctivey put your
hands to your pocket. He greeted Vilbushe-
witch with the familiarity of old friend
ship.
haven't seen you for so long? Are YOU
working with The Free Thought again :?
Can you tell me who wrote that article on
Sturmer?"
An instant of weakness Vilbushevitch
was about to reply in his former manner
that he did not know But at once he
mastered himself and recalled that he had
been born anew
He cast an angry glance at the spy and
considered whether it wouldn't be good
idea to punch his jaw. But the fellow be-
fore him was so nauseatingly dirty. so re
pulsve, that Vilbushevitch could not raise
his hands to the task. So he spat square
an the agents face, momentarily binding
him. And while the latter, surprised and
frightened wiped his face Vilbushevitch
said: Take only your share Give the
rest to the Ochranka"
Vlbushevitch went into the house.
Quietly calmly, resolutely. Once in his
room, he sat down to read a newspaper and
refused to permit himself to think of what
he had just done or what the Ochranka
would do In retaliation Strong, proud, deter
mined. new man-one who had freed
himself from his weaknesses and had dis
covered the better man within him.
And yet, not free. He expected a new vista
tlon at any moment His walks in the
street were shadowed by that possibility,
and his nights were clouded by the expec-
tation of horrible guests
But nobody came to visit him, nor did he
encounter any one. Until finally, in the
first days of March, when the Gar and the
Ochranka were overthrown, he met in the
tumultuous crowd the frightful agent with
the goatee and the spiderlike movements.
But the latter disappeared at once in the
mazes of the multitude. For long time
Vilbushevitch sought to locate him; he
wanted to grab him by the goatee laugh
into his face all his former fears, and give
him over to the mob that was wild with the
JOY of freedom. But the spy had van
ished if the earth had swallowed him.
XTEVT