That's one thing one saw about him at once--unhappy of
course because Vera didn't love him and he adored her. But there was
more in it than that. He let himself go one night to me--the only time
he's ever talked to me really. He was drunk a bit, and he wanted to
borrow money off me. But there was more in it than that. He talked to me
about Russia. That seemed to have been his great idea when the war began
that it was going to lead to the most marvellous patriotism all through
Russia. It seemed to begin like that, and do you know, Durward, as he
talked I saw that patriotism _was_ at the bottom of everything, that you
could talk about Internationalism until you were blue in the face, and
that it only began to mean anything when you'd learnt first what
nationality was--that you couldn't really love all mankind until you'd
first learnt to love one or two people close to you. And that you
couldn't love the world as a vast democratic state until you'd learnt to
love your own little bit of ground, your own fields, your own river,
your own church tower. Markovitch had it all as plain as plain. 'Make
your own house secure and beautiful.
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