"No. When I came, early in
the morning, no one was here. I thought that you were dead, Barin, and I
began collecting your property, so that no one else should take it. Then
you made a movement, and I saw that you were alive--so I got some
cabbage soup and gave it you. That certainly saved you.... I'm going to
stay with you now."
I did not care in the least whether he went or stayed. He chattered on.
By staying with me he would inevitably neglect his public duties.
Perhaps I didn't know that he had public duties? Yes, he was now an
Anarchist, and I should be astonished very shortly, by the things the
Anarchists would do. All the same, they had their own discipline. They
had their own processions, too, like any one else. Only four days ago he
had marched all over Petrograd carrying a black flag. He must confess
that he was rather sick of it. But they must have processions.... Even
the prostitutes had marched down the Nevski the other day demanding
shorter hours.
But of course I cannot remember all that he said. During the next few
days I slowly pulled myself out of the misty dead world in which I had
been lying.
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