I cannot conceive why I had ever
made the promise, and in the afternoon, meeting Bohun at Watkins'
bookshop in the Morskaia, I told him that I couldn't go.
"Oh, come along!" he said. "It's your duty."
"Why my duty?"
"They're all talking as hard as they can about saving the world by
turning the other cheek, and so on; and a few practical facts about
Germany from you will do a world of good."
"Oh, your propaganda!" I said.
"No, it isn't my propaganda," he answered. "It's a matter of life and
death to get these people to go on with the war, and every little
helps."
"Well, I'll come," I said, shaking my head at the book-seller, who was
anxious that I should buy the latest works of Mrs. Elinor Glyn and Miss
Ethel Dell. I had in fact reflected that a short excursion into other
worlds would be good for me. During these weeks I had been living in the
very heart of the Markovitches, and it would be healthy to escape for a
moment.
But I was not to escape.
I met Bohun at the top of the English Prospect, and we decided to walk.
Rozanov lived in the street behind the Kazan Cathedral. I did not know
very much about him except that he was a very wealthy merchant, who had
made his money by selling cheap sweets to the peasant.
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